“You have talked,” he says gently, pulling her close to him. “She knows how resonance works, yes? Let them work it out between them. You would only be in the way.”

They share a secret look and she leans in close to him, whispering. “Something tells me their resonance isn’t going to work out as easily as ours.”

“I don’t think anything is going to be easy with that one,” he says, and grins over at me. “Good luck, my friend. You will need it.”

Friend? Friend? Is that like…an ally? A teammate? But needing a second person in a battle implies I am weak. I draw myself up to my full height, glaring at the amused male and his mate. “I do not need friends,” I inform him. “I am strong enough on my own. I am the best, the fiercest.”

“That poor woman,” is all F’lor says.

Chapter Seven

VIVIAN

If I’m keeping a tally of pluses and minuses for this day, I’m afraid we’re veering into the negative.

It started out good. I got shoes and warm clothes. Plus and plus. I worried nothing would fit because I can’t remember what size I am. I can’t even remember what my face looks like. I just know I’m tall and leggy and my hair is this muddy blondish-brown and hangs past my shoulders. I asked Flor for a ponytail holder of some kind and she handed me a pointed bone, so I jabbed it into my bun, Flintstones-style. The shoes are hand-stitched with lots of warm fur on the inside, and the tunic has stitching that goes up the front so it can be fitted to the person wearing it. Everything fits and I feel less like a rejected clone and more like a human being.

Lunch was hot and tasty and I didn’t even have to watch anyone butcher any animals to make it. Another plus.

I remembered camping and how to make fire. I’m useful.

These are all pluses, and it gives me a feeling of relief to be able to sit by the warmth of the fire and continually poke it to keep the embers bright. I’m doing something instead of just crying, at least. Maybe this will jog more memories for me and I’ll remember things like where I live and my name.

Even just a syllable of a name would be nice.

Flor tells us that we’re going to be heading out tomorrow for her home. It’s on a beach, where the cliffs keep the worst of the winds off of them and the temperature is slightly more moderate than here in the mountains. A more moderate temperature sounds like another plus to me. I’m even looking forward to meeting the others stranded here, because I’m hoping that more conversations will spark more memories. I’m looking forward to warm housing too, of course, but right now, the memories are bothering me more than the weather.

But then the half-lizard guy, Skarr, sits next to me and the day rapidly starts to slide into the minus column.

He beats his chest like some sort of Tarzan wannabe and bellows at the top of his lungs. He tells everyone how amazing he is for picking a fight with another guy and winning. He struts through camp like some sort of green peacock and I decide that living with someone like Skarr for the rest of my days is going to be a checkmark firmly in the minus column. Even Flor doesn’t like the guy. I see the annoyed looks she keeps shooting in his direction, like she wishes he would shut the fuck up. I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking that.

Skarr saunters next to me by the fire, and it takes everything I have not to get up and leave. He’s obnoxious, but even obnoxious guys deserve to get warm. Given that he’s got scales, he’s probably part lizard. If he’s cold-blooded, it’s going to be rough here for him. I should feel sorry for him. When I look up, he flexes and gives me a triumphant look.

Ugh. So much for feeling sorry for the guy. I hope he gets an icicle up his tush to fix that attitude.

But then something alarming happens.

My chest quivers. At first I think I’m shivering again. That I’ve caught a cold. But then the quivering gets louder, like someone’s starting up a lawnmower nearby. I look around for the source of the sound, and it takes a moment before it dawns on me—the reason why it’s so loud is because I’m the one that’s making the sound.

I’m vibrating.

Resonating.

Frowning, I press my hand to my breasts, which feel like they’re being motorboated by my internal organs. I look up—and see the lizard guy’s triumphant expression.

He’s resonating, too.

Oh hell no. That’s for me? He’s supposed to be mine?

There’s an expression about dating and plenty of fish in the sea, but I wonder if there’s also an expression for throwing back the catch you don’t want. Because I most definitely do not want this absolutely obnoxious, pompous jackass.

He smirks at me and thumps his chest again, the gesture one of triumph.

Yeah, no.

I get to my feet and leave. I imagine my minus column just filling with endless negatives, one after the other. Nightmare. This is a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I see a sympathetic look on Sabrina’s face, but I avoid her. I don’t want to hear her say sweet things about how it’ll all work out for the best. Another woman looks miserable as I stagger past, as if she’s realizing that we can just as quickly be fucked over by this “resonance” thing as we can be rewarded. I don’t want to talk to her, either. I don’t want to be comforted by anyone.

I just want to get away.

To run. To escape this hellish nightmare I’ve woken up to and never look back.

I hug my fur-trimmed tunic tighter to my body and keep walking. We’re in a valley—it’s apparently where all the clones were dumped—with high cliffs nearby. I avoid climbing out of the valley bowl, sticking near the walls and walking in the shadows of the rocky cliffs. I don’t know if I’m much of a climber.

I don’t know anything.

Well, I do know one thing—the lizard guy sucks.

What the fuck, khui? What the everloving fuck? I thought we were friends. If not friends, that at least we had a common goal—survival. But that guy is the worst. Maybe my khui is unhinged. Maybe it’s faulty and it’ll just resonate to anyone and anything. There has to be a logical explanation as to why it would pick a bully for me right away. What the hell does that say about me and who I was?

My thoughts spiral as I continue walking. The valley walls ease away, and I see a cluster of trees on the horizon, swaying on the breeze. The ground slopes, the purple and white-capped mountains ubiquitous in the background, a constant reminder that this isn’t home, because home was…

I pause, waiting for the thought to finish itself.

It never does.

With a growl of frustration, I continue on, arms hugged to my chest. I concentrate on those words, trying to force my mind to finish. Because home was…what? Home was…? Home was….??? I chant this mantra, trying on different things as I walk and walk.

Home was…cold? But not this cold?

Home was…hot? The desert?

Home was…the ocean?

Nothing fits quite right.

The crunch of footsteps in the snow tell me that someone has followed me. I turn my head—and recoil when I see it’s the lizard guy. He’s followed me out here. I face forward again, scowling. “Ugh. What do you want?”

There’s a pause, as if he didn’t expect that kind of greeting. “I wanted to look at my female.”

“I’m not yours,” I point out. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Of course you do not.”

His scoffing tone makes me pause. Is this guy reasonable after all?

“It would take more than a paltry sparring session for me to be permanently awarded a female body-slave.”

Nope.

So much for that hope. With a disgusted look in his direction, I decide to keep walking.

He races in front of me. “Wait. Stop.”

I stop, glaring at him.

“All I want to do is look at you.” He raises his hands in the air. “Do you not wish the same of me?”