PEARL

I have to get out of here.

Need to get out. Now.

The sporadic clicking of the geiger counter overwhelmed my hearing. It was going off like the warning hiss of a snake about to strike. Leaving my colleagues behind, I pushed the past tall, thick grass, stumbling over unseen stones. No matter how far I left our camp, the noise followed.

Their screams were the only things that pierced the frenzied static.

My heart pounded so hard that I felt it in my teeth. My body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The night sky above was clear and forever glittering, so normal amid things that weren't normal.

I yanked the straps of my backpack off my shoulders, tossing my notes and my work to the side. My life's work. But at the moment, I had bigger problems.

I tripped over something—maybe a rock, maybe a clump of wiry grass—and fell to the ground with an oomph.

I was too terrified to get back up, so I huddled into a ball.

The rapid ticking of the geiger counter slowed. My whole body shook. The screams were no longer present. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

I was reliving the night at the ranch, but this time, shit was going much further south.

"Stop running. You are safe."

My body became flooded with warmth, and I curled over onto my side at the sound of that familiar voice. It shook the ground like rumbling thunder, coming from nowhere, yet everywhere. A ragged cry broke through my lips as I clawed at the weeds, squeezing my eyes shut. My body was too weak to move, so all I did was tremble.

"Settle."

I obeyed the command, willing my limbs to relax. That velvet voice was like a harbor from the storm, even though the voice was the storm. I mentally clung to the richness of it, wanting to hear it again.

"Why save me?" I asked.

A hand touched mine, warm and firm, completely enveloping it. I uncurled myself and turned onto my back and gasped. A gloriously beautiful face, so achingly perfect that it hurt to look at, was inches from my own. A hard jawline. Full, curved lips. Glittering, purple eyes. More warmth spread from my toes to my crown, chasing away the fear.

My heartbeat slowed and I shivered.

So beautiful.

A metallic sphere appeared somewhere above his head.

A firm and lean body was then on me, gently pressing me into the grass, and suddenly, that was all I could think about. The heat. The tingles all over my skin. The smell of petrichor filling my nostrils, watering my mouth in anticipation. For what, I'm not sure.

I stared into his calming gaze, my eyelashes fluttering. White hair rustled gently in the breeze as the geiger counter became silent.

His lips turned up at the sides, almost like a smile. Did he hear my thoughts? Using a finger, he traced a path from the corner of my trembling lips to my collarbone that was slick with sweat. I fought the urge to reach out and touch him back, but for some reason, this being felt... holy. Too ethereal to touch.

So I kept my hands to myself.

His smile became solemn. "Our souls call to one another. Can you not hear them?"

***

The room was dark.

Softness encompassed me—warm, silky, and fluffy. I stretched my legs and my knees popped. Sticky perspiration coated my skin. Groaning, I rolled over. What the hell was that dream about?

That certainly was not how things played out that night. The voice had been demanding, yet firm. It made me feel safe, yes, but it was clear that it wasn't happy with what I was doing. It told me to run, so I did.

Not to stay.

It certainly didn't show itself or lay on top of me, for one.

Was I seriously fantasizing about this... this creature? Something in my gut told me that was wrong, very wrong, and I shuddered. Sure, that voice belonged to a hot-as-hell being, but that same being was also frustrating and too damn frightening to deal with.

My body shook; it wasn't a voluntary movement. I rolled over again and found a pillow. Nausea hit me like a running bull, and I sat up, slapping a hand over my lips.

I need to puke.

A soft light came from the corner of whatever room I was in. Footfalls stopped in front of me. A hand caressed my forehead; a very huge hand. It was cool against my skin. My fingers drifted from my mouth to my lap when I was sure it was safe not to blow chunks. The need to lean into that hand, to use it as a cool compress, was strong.

"I don't feel good," I said, taking in a smooth, almost silver floor. My stomach did a flip and gurgled. "And I might have an accident... in my pants, I think."

Was I wearing pants? I felt around and almost sighed with relief.

Thank heavens, I am.

As I slowly adjusted to the darkness, I forgot what I was talking about, the thought leaving me like a leaf blowing in the wind. There was a black, metallic drawer beside me. I was in a bed with a sad excuse for a pillow nestled between my knees. My hair stuck to the sides of my neck with sweat.

"Please abstain from passing waste in this bed if possible. If you require a restroom, all you need to do is say so."

Oh, it was him. Fantastic. Half of me wanted to run from embarrassment from the dream I had, and the other half wanted to bury myself under the covers and never come out. I must be dying.

He held what looked like a metal basin under my chin as I was violently sick. Even when my stomach was empty, I kept heaving to where it felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out of my head and roll away.

When I finally caught my breath, I moaned, "What did you do to me?"

"Inoculation."

I didn't understand him. "You gave me a shot?"

His voice was always the same—robotic, deep. "Without the inoculation, a simple illness of mine would make you gravely ill. Your destination houses pathogens your immune system has never encountered. It was not a shot. Answering questions is not for now. Rest."

I found his pale face in the darkness and it was the same as I remembered it, even if it was harder to see. Beautiful, emotionless. Strange. Humanly familiar yet... not at all. Suddenly, the I had dream made more sense. I always had whacky dreams when I was feverish, even as a kid.

"Why didn't you ask me first?"

"It was a necessity."

I thought about that for a moment, the thought of it tasting like the bile I expelled. "A heads up would have been nice. How long will it take to get to whenever I am going? Why did you avoid so many questions the last time I saw you?"

His answer came surprisingly fast.

"That is not my job. You will have many texts and knowledge at your fingertips wherever you decide to stay. I am not your teacher. I am not your mentor."

I flinched. "Texts? That's all I get?"

"Yes. However, I believe you will learn to enjoy them. There are many things to sort through. I trust in your ability to find what will sate you."

I groaned. What a load of crap. "Whatever. Explain to me where I am going, then."

"If I do, will you rest?"

"Fine."

He said a word I did not understand. Or was it a phrase? I wasn't sure. I cleared my throat of the nasty taste of sickness while I waited, breathing in that strange scent of his. It helped ease my nausea.

His voice was firm. "Get in your bed."

I did as he said, pulling up the sheets to my chin. I shivered, teeth chattering, each muscle aching like the throb of an infected tooth. Letting my eyes close, I took in deep inhales of his smell.

I wished there was enough light to see him and the space around me clearly. The dark was all-encompassing, boiling me down to an ant next to a skyscraper. The skyscraper being him. Would there ever be a time when his tall, enormous frame didn't shock me?

"We are going to a planet called Lare, where you will stay for a bit and decide where you want to live out your days. Are you in need of anything to dull the effects of the inoculation? I can gather you medicines, although I doubt you—"

"No. No, thank you."

"As I thought."

If it was anything like what they already gave me, I didn't want it. I didn't have the energy to be angry that they gave me something without my knowledge. Maybe they were in the right, though. I probably didn't need to die from some alien illness.

My mind wouldn't rest until I asked one last question. "What happened to the guys in the bomb shelter? Did they die?"

Pressure on my forehead. He was touching me again. A tingle settled in the middle of my stomach, but it was quickly chased away by stomach pain.

"I have expired them. Perhaps they should have not placed a weapon to your head before bringing you to the shelter. I detest needless violence." The hand disappeared. "I will return when you awake."

Did expired mean dead?

My eyes snapped open. "Wait! I'm not going back to sleep. I need you to--"

But it was already too late. The entrance he used closed, shutting out the last bit of light, drenching me in pure darkness.

He killed them?

I brought my knees to my chest, my head spinning.

Holy shit.

Best not to be on his bad side, then. Knowing me, and how I couldn't keep my mouth shut, that would be exactly where I landed.

The question was when.