“Thank you, I’m starving. Been working on this rekking thing all morning.”
I pause, confused. “What does rekking mean? Before I thought it was the name you had for yourselves, but you also use it as an adjective. The other women call you morts.”
The sound of Oz’s laughter is muffled, but I can’t tell why. “Sweet Whisper. Rekk is, according to Aria, like your alien word fuck.”
Now I blush, hearing such filth on his tongue. His voice is deep and dark and delicious. Like carnal things and secrets. I wonder what I’d have to do to have him say more filthy words like that.
Rekk, fuck. Rekking, fucking. Mortarekker, motherfucker.
How many times had I called them mortarekkers? I don’t want to know.
“How is the weapon building going?” I ask to cover my embarrassment.
“It isn’t,” he says, his voice muffled by food. “But that’s the way of it. It’ll be rogshite until I can get the prototype to work.”
“You’ll get it,” I say confidently.
“Of course I will, my Whisper. But I promised you some glasses. If you’ll sit with me, I’ll tinker with something.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” I protest.
“You’re not. I need to step away for a while and do something else before I launch this catastrophe into outer space.” I hear him stand and place the tray on a countertop. He must be a quick eater, or he was hungrier than I thought. Silly Oz. He probably gets as distracted working on his projects as I do reading a book. Sometimes I can go whole days forgetting to eat when I’m reading something good.
“As long as I’m not disturbing you. My eyes are not nearly as important as what you’re doing.”
“You could never disturb me.”
4
Ozias
Twelve Solars Left
Quinn is a welcome distraction. I feel the pressure from Breccan to get something we can work with completed, but when she walks in the room, I can’t help but put all that on hold.
My focus is on her.
Her pretty blue eyes are unfocused, and she squints. It bothers me she can’t see anything, and I feel rekking terrible about not doing something about it already. The aliens are invading soon, and our entire faction is relying on me to build this weapon, yet I’m more worried over the fact Quinn can’t see where she’s going.
The weapon can wait.
“I made the lenses earlier, but I haven’t had a chance to make the frames yet,” I tell her, pulling the clear disks from a pouch. “Do these help?”
I hold them out in the palm of my hand, pleased when she reaches forward, her gentle fingers caressing my flesh. She holds one up to her left eye and peers through it.
“Oh,” she squeaks. “Ohhh. Oh my.” Legolas, her new pet, holds on to her curls when she starts bouncing in place. “Ohhhh.”
“What about the other one?” I ask, cocking my nog at her, trying to get a read on her.
She holds the other one up to her right eye and looks at me, a silly grin on her face. “Ohhhhhh.”
“That’s a lot of ohhs and not enough words,” I grunt. “Do I need to start over?”
Her blue eyes appear much bigger behind the lenses, showcasing darker lines of blue that makes them look like unique gems. “Rekk no,” she says and then giggles. “This is amazing. Oz…you’re….” She bites on her bottom lip.
“What?”
Her cheeks flood crimson. “Thank you.”
“I’m not done yet, Whisper.”
She relinquishes the lenses and I pull out a long zuta-metal band. With quick, practiced ease, I twist and fold the zuta-metal to my liking. A few clips of stray, jagged pieces and then I have a pair of frames that are like Calix’s but smaller. I wedge the lenses into each hole and affix them with tiny dots of zuta-metal I melt with my evverburner. She’s quiet the entire time I work, an eager smile on her face. I blow on the hot zuta-metal until it cools.
“Ready?” I ask.
“More than ready.”
She leans forward, her face inches from mine. I could let her put them on her own nog, but I want to be the one to do it for her. Gently with my clawed fingertip, I brush an unruly curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her smile is so sweet it makes my heart stutter in my chest. Legolas makes a clittering sound, watching me with interest.
“We can adjust them, so let me know if anything pokes you,” I instruct as I slide them on her face. “What do you think?”
Her blue eyes pool with tears and one streaks down her pink cheek. “Oz…”
I cup her jaw, stroking my thumb along the wetness. “Hmm?”
“I can see. Perfectly.” She leans forward. “Thank you.” Her lips press to mine for a gentle kiss.
I’m stunned that she’s kissing me, but I’m not a mort to waste an opportunity. I slide my hand into her curls, nudging Legolas along the way, and pull her closer. Her lips part on a gasp. My mouth devours hers, eager to taste my little alien.