Chapter Four
Naura stepped from the shower and switched off the water the way Tony had shown her.
The human hair-soap smelled delicious, as did the bodywash she’d found on a shelf attached to the shower wall.
She decided she rather liked the land walkers’ inventions and would have one made for the bathhouse when she returned home.
Her damp clothes lay in a heap on the floor where she’d stepped out of them. She picked them up and brought them to her nose.
They smelled of salt water and something else she’d never noticed until that moment.
With a wrinkle of her nose, she laid them on the side of the sink to brush her teeth and hair before wrapping the towel around her body to go in search of something clean to wear.
Entering the room she’d been designated, Naura noticed an open closet off to the right of an oversized bed. She trailed over to plunder the closet’s contents.
Her eyes lit up with joy as she sifted through the droves of colorful material hanging from strange-looking contraptions along a wooden bar.
She plucked a garment free and held it up to her chest. There were no sleeves on the top, and small white laces were tied together above the shoulders.
“You will do quite nicely,” she murmured aloud, slipping it over her head and wandering across the room to open a drawer on a giant wooden box perched against the wall. What had Abbie called it? Oh, yes. A dresser.
Grabbing a pair of soft white short pants, she pulled them on and went in search of Tony. She found him sitting on a couch in front of the television, loading a handgun.
He glanced up as she stopped in front of him. “You couldn’t find anything less revealing to wear?”
Unsure of his meaning, she took a seat next to him and turned her attention to the woman speaking from the television.
“Although no cure has been discovered,” the pretty blonde proclaimed, “we are told that a vaccine is still in the works and that the CDC is working around the clock to put an end to this madness. I’m Mallory Cahill. Stay tuned for more on the Incola Virus after a word from our sponsors.”
Tears stung Naura’s eyes with the knowledge of the virus’s origin. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for the epidemic’s existence.
“If you’re going to insist on blaming yourself, do it somewhere else besides in here. Your guilt is choking me.”
Naura shook off her gloomy thoughts and watched as Tony pulled something from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
“What is it that you ingested?”
“It’s gum.” He held up a small, clear container with even smaller white squares inside. He shook it once before extending it to her. “Hold out your hand.”
Naura did as he commanded, marveling as the gum rolled onto her palm.
“Don’t swallow it,” he advised, returning the container back to his pocket. “You’re supposed to chew it until the flavor is gone.”
Placing the gum in her mouth, she hesitantly bit down, gasping as the flavor burst across her tongue and took her breath. “I have never had gum before,” she breathed, fanning her mouth with her hand.
“Not all gum is alike. I prefer the icy flavor; it opens my sinuses and keeps me alert when needed.”
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “You better get some sleep. We are leaving at daylight to take you back to the beach.”
“I’m not going back,” she stated, staring into his eyes, refusing to back down.
He ran his palm over the length of his beard. “I am not going to be responsible for you getting yourself killed.”
Naura studied his gray-streaked hair. “I am thirty years old in human terms, Anthony Vaughn. No one is held accountable for my actions but me.”
He appeared surprised by her confession. “You’re thirty?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “What age are you?”
“I’m forty-two going on sixty,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
“I do not understand.”
“It’s a figure of speech. I’m forty-two.”
“Why then is your hair gray with age?”
A shadow passed through his eyes. He averted his gaze and went back to cleaning the handgun he held. “It’s probably hereditary. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
She was hungry, Naura thought with a glance toward the kitchen. She’d consumed the land walker’s delicious food on several occasions since Abbie’s move to Aukrabah.
After being raised on a diet of saltwater creatures, she found the humans’ cooked food had been a welcome treat. “Are there any of the crunchy circles with salt stuck to them?”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You mean potato chips?”
“Yes. Potato chips. They are my favorite.” She bounded off the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen.
“You should eat more than chips. The salt will dehydrate you,” Tony announced, entering the room behind her.
Ignoring him, Naura grabbed up a bag of chips and rolled it in her hands in search of an opening.
Tony stepped in close. “Here, let me.” His hand brushed against hers, sending goose bumps along her flesh.
He plucked the bag from her grasp and pulled, opening the top to reveal the coveted chips.
“Thank you,” Naura whispered, relishing the feel of him standing so close. He smelled of salt water and man.
Food suddenly took a back seat to desire. She wanted him to touch her again, if only for a brief moment. “Tony?”
He stilled, his hand hovering above hers. His breath tickled her cheek as he spoke. “You’re playing with fire, little girl.”
“Is it so wrong for me to find you curious, Anthony Vaughn?”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he growled, spinning on his heel and leaving the room before she could ask him what cats had to do with anything.
Naura stared down at her trembling hands in disappointment. Did Tony truly find her repulsive? Perhaps if she’d been born human instead of Bracadyte, he would show an interest in her.
She glanced back toward the living room to see that he’d returned to the couch to clean his weapons once again.
A vision of his dead wife passed through her mind. The woman had been lovely, with her blonde hair and tiny frame. The complete opposite of Naura.
“Are you going to eat or just stare at it all night?” Tony questioned from the couch.
Naura took a seat at the table with her bag of chips and closed off her mind to him for fear he would read her thoughts. She could never compete with Tony’s deceased wife, no matter how hard she tried.
With a sigh of defeat, Naura did what Abbie would do in her situation… She ate.