The afternoon passed in a blur. I immersed myself in books. I read as much as I could about the geography and the world I found myself in. Ute read everything about the theories of magic. Talking to Ute sometimes made me feel like I was talking to an encyclopedia, but I loved the visceral feel of a book in my hands. Especially these books, handwritten, loosely bound, with the smell of old ink.

My thoughts swirled. I heard a voice instructing me in a mechanical tone.

“Don’t move, Elizabeth. Don’t want us to make a mistake, do you? You know what happens then.” The scalpel slipped across my flesh. Pain followed slickly in its wake. Sharp, biting agony. I broke out in a sweat as it crashed through me in a wave, stealing my breath, followed by a tug deep inside. My body skidded across the table. Xade grinned down at me, his hands buried deep in my gut.

I jerked, clenching my teeth to hold back a scream. The book I’d been reading fell from my nerveless fingers. I stood, my hands rubbing along my stomach. No scar. Nothing. What the fuck was that? I scrubbed at my face, nauseated. I didn’t know if I wanted to remember any more… I hated pain. When I tried to recall anything else, my head just hurt worse. The more I pushed, the less I saw.

After that, I couldn’t face reading. I ached to run, to do something physical. Being cooped up like this sucked. Restless, I moved around the room. I was never much into yoga, but I decided to give it a go. I was in Downward-Facing Dog, and Ute was making dinner when Finn walked back in.

Finn whistled and walked behind me to enjoy the view. “Pretty.”

I flipped him off as I moved into Cobra. Ute tossed a spoon at Finn, who caught it one-handed and held up some bottles in his other. No matter the culture, alcohol was a constant that I was sure took a man to create.

The wine was fruity, a good complement to tonight’s stew. Dinner passed in a blur as the wine flowed. I curled up in my chair, sloped sideways. Ute and Finn spread their legs out. I felt a bit guilty drinking, yet also very sophisticated. On Earth, I wasn’t the legal drinking age. Sure, I’d had beer at frat parties, but on the whole, I was a good girl.

Hell, I spent most my nights acting as my roommate’s wing woman. Sarah. My thoughts scattered as I pictured her, head down in her own vomit. My teeth clenched. I couldn’t think about that now.

This was Solum. I could drink here. But the alcohol made my funk worse. I needed to know how I got here and what happened to me, yet at the same time, I was afraid. I wanted to go home, but I knew that wasn’t an option, not really.

This was my home now.

“What is Earth like?” Ute wondered aloud, distracting me from my morbid thoughts.

I turned to him. “I think Earth is beautiful, so many different cultures and ways of life, so many different people. It’s amazing. I loved learning about new people and places. I considered going into anthropology in school; that’s the study of cultures, but I’ve never traveled much myself.” I choked. “Well, until now, until here.”

Finn snorted and Ute raised his glass, and I continued. “We did when I was little, but after my dad left, my mom moved us back to where she grew up, near Pittsburgh and her parents, my grandparents.”

“I would love to see different lands,” said Ute. “We used to be able to travel. There are a few other races around, the Avaresh, the Rocians, but since we moved to the canyon, we have not had any contact with them. But some races do not like to interact with others, most likely due to the Imani. Why do people feel their way has to be the only way? Why can there not be different ways for different people?”

I grimaced “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“Love, not hate,” Finn said with a smirk.

“On Earth, we didn’t always coexist peacefully, but there was an accord. There were times when that wasn’t the case. We had two world wars. People picked one side or the other. One country held themselves above the others and almost destroyed the world with their vision of a master race, an Aryan race. They lost.” I frowned and took a gulp of my wine. “I’ve never understood such hatred. I read somewhere once that the worst atrocities against humanity were committed by man himself. Having said that, there are huge similarities between our two worlds. There would have to be, right?”

“What do you mean?” Ute asked.

“Well, we would have to have a similar environment, the same basic structure of air and gravity for me to be able to live here. If that is similar, then the types of plants grown would be similar. The basics of life. We can understand each other, which amazes me. We are the same, you and I.” I motioned between myself and them.

Finn smiled. “Physically?” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. “My world is more advanced, though; we have music, medicines, cars, phones, TVs, so many things.” I glanced down. “Some of the things you attribute to the Imani, we had. But we also had ethics and politics and structures in place to prevent anything like what the Imani did, thus the world wars.” That similarity also helped me understand them. They knew about everything of which I spoke because the Imani had similar technology at one point. They just didn’t embrace it.

“Tell me of these different cultures,” Ute asked, leaning his head on his hand. Finn just watched me and took a chug of his wine.

“I’m no historian, not like you, Ute. I don’t know if I can do my world justice. I’m young.”

“Young?” Finn asked.

“How many years are you?” asked Ute at the same time.

“Nineteen. I just started college. People on my world live to be in their eighties and nineties.”

Ute spit out his wine. “Eighties? I am in my forties, and I am considered ancient.”

Finn sniped. “You are old.”

Ute glared at him and manfully ignored his sniggering.

I asked a question that had been niggling at me.

“Do you have any religion, belief systems?” To my eyes, there didn’t appear to be religion here on Solum. That surprised the hell out of me. Man crawled out of the womb wondering why he left that warm cozy place in the first place. Why was he here, where was he going, and what happened to him when he died? Thus was religion born; religion was one of the strongest forces in human history, intertwined with life, love, and politics. The Roman Catholic Church was a good example of this.

“What you mean?” Ute queried, his words slurred.

“Do you believe in God, or gods?” Their blank stares were answer enough. I tried a different tack. “What do you believe in?”

“The land. Candrana,” Finn said. In essence, their connection to the land was their religion. The Imani believed in nothing but science. It was their god.

Maybe I was thinking about it all wrong.

Their fight could be seen as a religious war, couldn’t it? The Fost believed the land had life and power; the Imani were corrupting that. The Fost were the ones who had taken the first shots in the war. I’d originally thought, when Ute relayed their history, that the Imani came after them, but that wasn’t the case. The Imani kidnapped several prominent Fost, and the land was crying. They had no proof but they knew. The Fost invaded the Imani lands, en masse, to get their people back and stop the corruption. The Imani fought back and when they saw the gifts the lands gave the Fost to fight, well, then, it was game on.

We talked long into the night, Ute and I, with occasional snark added by the peanut gallery, aka Finn. Ute faded first. Unable to talk any longer, he got up and lurched to his new quarters to rest.

“Did you drink too much, old man?” Finn taunted.

Ute didn’t deign to respond; he cut Finn to size with his eyes as he staggered out the door.

I waved bye then stared into the fire. Finn watched me. He shifted his long legs; he didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon. “Do you like it here?”

I turned to him, surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. If what you say is true, this must seem different.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It’s true and yes, it’s different, but different is not bad. No one here seems bad; I just need to know what happened, how I got here.” I looked down at the wine in my hand, throat tight. I choked out my next thought. “The Imani had to have taken me and brought me here.”

“That we already knew.”

“I didn’t want to acknowledge it.”

“Does not make it any less true,” Finn added.

“I’m a coward,” I confessed. “I’m afraid of remembering.”

“Knowing the Imani, you should be.”

“You aren’t making me feel any better, Finn.”

“Sorry. Just remember, the past is the past. The present is what is here and now. Nothing in the past can hurt you in the present.”

“That’s better. Thank you.” I smiled.

“You are welcome.” He grinned.

“You’re so weird,” I grumbled.

“You are weird.”

“Finn,” I continued a second later.

“That is my name.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious that is my name.”

I threw a book at him. There were so many around. He deflected it with ease.

“You just proved to me that we may be different races, but smartass is universal.” I rolled my eyes when a cheesy grin spread across his face. “So tell me about your culture and customs. They seem different from mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are all very alive, bold. More so than my people, I think.”

His smile gleamed. “Bold.” He seemed pleased with my word usage. “How so?”

“You’re touchy-feely.” I mimed holding hands and touching.

He said, surprise shading his voice, “Your people do not touch?”

“No, not that we don’t touch; we’re just more reserved.”

He bobbed his head as he took a drink. “The Fost are not ‘reserved.’ We are quite free with our affections. We lost so many in the wars and to the environment. It used to be they encouraged finding a mate, a life-partner, but as our numbers declined, they encouraged sex. They encouraged pregnancy and life. People do not live as long out here, too many things wanting to eat them. We have to live life.”

“So you don’t marry anymore?” I wondered if “marry” translated. Come to think of it, I wondered how everything I said translated to them. I probably sounded like a moron.

“There are still some people who seek a mate and form the bond out there. Stein of Clan Halit mated his wife. Marin’s parents mated. Most do not. They leave their options open. Mating means monogamy, and that is not encouraged among the Fost.” Their mating must equal Earth’s marry.

I frowned at that.

He snorted at my expression. “So you believe in monogamy?”

“Yes, I believe in monogamy. There is someone out there for everyone, someone who makes you better, faster, stronger. That’s when it’s right.” I took a drink. “Not that there is anything wrong with the other way. That is just how I like it.”

“So no…?” He circled his thumb and index finger and slipped his other index finger in and out. That was something else that everyone understood.

“We can have sex outside of mating. I just meant I believe in marriage and monogamy.” I grimaced and looked back at the flames, uncomfortable.

“We are much more honest.”

“What do you mean, honest?”

He winked. “We all know where we stand. We have fun and with any luck, it results in a baby. How is that not honest?”

“Because there is no heart involved. No intimacy, no caring.”

“Of course we care. We just care a lot, for many people. And we love our children.”

“I don’t mean you don’t care about your children, I mean about each other. Two parents who care for each other, even if they’re not together, and their child, would be preferable to two parents who care for their child who shuttles between them. Trust me, I know. That’s how it was for me and I hated it.” When my parents divorced, that was my life. Dad wanted more kids; I was such a disappointment. And when Mom couldn’t give them to him, that was that. He still did his duty, did dear old Zacharias Camden. He saw me every other weekend, until I put a stop to the sham. The memories weighed me down. I didn’t realize I’d drifted off in the middle of the conversation.

Finn frowned at me.

“Sorry, plus, it has to affect your relationships. If you don’t see a loving unit as you grow up, then I’d think it would be harder to form one yourself.”

“The child picks which clan they want when they come of age. They are loved by both parents.”

I shrugged again. “Ideally, they would be, but we all know that isn’t always the case. I think if the parents committed to each other before the child, then it leads to a healthier life for the couple, the child, and your people.”

“I think you should not judge until you see how it works,” he said as he sucked down some more wine. He looked me over—slowly—from the top of my head to my toes.

I squirmed a bit.

“I can show you how it works,” he offered and winked. His fingers rubbed down his glass.

“Oh, I know how it works. I’m young, but I’m not that young.” Billy Campbell down the road. One sweaty night. Not that much to remember.

Finn flashed a grin. We slipped into companionable silence. I went back to watching the fire. The heat was quite hypnotizing. I felt the heart of the blaze calling to me. I had fire magic. I wondered, as I watched the flames dance, what that would mean, what I could do. Hmm. I reached out, fingertips heating.

“Oh, I think someone has had too much to drink.” Finn laughed and prevented me from falling face first into the fire. He grabbed my hands and settled me on his lap. I elbowed him, but he didn’t let me go; he also didn’t try anything, just held me in his arms.

I’ll move in a minute.

With a sigh, I rested my head in the area between his neck and jaw and drifted off, waking only when Finn dropped me on the bed, bouncing me a bit. He laughed at my grumpy pout. I burrowed into the blanket.

Finn remained, leaning over me, his gaze drifting downward. I knew what he was seeing, and it wasn’t really me. I held my breath and rolled over on the cot. His hand skimmed along my hair.

He perched on the edge of my cot.

I kept my eyes shut. His breath drifted across my face. A light caress trailed across my cheek; a hand tucked my hair behind my ear.

“What am I going to do with you?” A whisper of a touch feathered along my lower lip. He laughed. “No one falls asleep that fast, woman.”

I screwed my eyes shut and faked a snore. He snickered. The moment dragged on as I waited. My face tingled. I knew he hadn’t moved back yet. God, I wanted to look.

His tongue licked along my lower lip. I gasped.

His mouth covered mine, taking advantage of my gasp. He kissed me, his lips soft, urging me to respond. He tunneled his hands in my hair and turned my face to his.

My eyes drifted open.

His eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin. His lips were soft at first, then firmed. My own lips trembled, then relaxed into the kiss. I opened my mouth and let him in. His taste flooded me: wild, rich, heady man. I pulled back after a quick sip, breath unsteady.

His eyes opened. Those white eyes. I no longer saw the Imani in them, but still, the slit eyes threw me.

We stared at each other.

He rubbed his nose along mine then with a shaky laugh, he got up and left. His ass swayed, quite deliberately, I’m sure, when he walked out the door.