There wasn’t sand, or traditional tile; instead the ground was covered with a fluffy plant, almost like grass that’d been given a perm. The pool itself was an odd shape that curved in some places and went straight in others, flowing around the bumpy walls made of various stones, and swirling around the three large stone columns that sprouted upward toward the ceiling.
In the center of the pool was another smaller pool, perfectly circular, that stood at least a yard higher than the original, with a set of winding stone steps that curled from the edge of the main pool around the left side of the rise to disappear in the back.
There was a green tint to the water, and a sweet smell of almonds permeated the air. She would have believed they were outside on some jungle island if it weren’t for the skylight above, a clear glass bubble that shielded them, curving down to meet walls covered with climbing vines and other foliage.
She moved over to the edge of the pool and reached up to touch a tiny white star-shaped flower. There were seemingly billions of them, sprouting from the vines in scattered pinpricks of white and pale yellow. Their petals were silky soft but were pointed in five directions. The almond smell was coming from them.
“Stellaperier. The best translation I can think of would be ‘star climbers.’” Ruckus had stepped up behind her, close enough so that his warm breath blew against her neck, causing the petals of the nearest flowers to flutter. “There’s a story to them, where it’s said that each bloom was really a star reborn. They reach for the sky because they remember their old lives and wish to return.”
Sounded familiar.
“Ruckus,” she said, “I want to go home.”
“I’ll get you back there,” he assured her. “I promise.”
“I shouldn’t keep making you tell me that.” She forced a smile. “But it helps to hear it.”
“At night the flowers glow,” he told her after a pause.
“They do not.” Then she spun around quickly, too quickly, and almost tripped. His hands at her arms stopped her, and she sucked in a breath at their proximity. She took a moment where all she did was stare at his chest, the part that came at her eye level. Then she risked a glance up, and her heart rate increased.
Oh no. His attractiveness was starting to work on her.
He grinned knowingly and released her, moving over to the edge of the pool. Then he reached back and tugged off his black T-shirt in one swoop. He tossed it onto the strange ground without a care, deft fingers already moving to undo the button of his pants.
She turned, pretending to find something interesting across the room, but his barely restrained laugh clued her in that he knew exactly what she was doing. She’d never been shy around the opposite sex before—didn’t have a ton of experience with them, either, but enough not to blush every time a guy dropped his pants.
He’d come prepared, having put swim trunks on underneath. They were a bright ruby red, a sharp contrast to his golden complexion. Hell, to his golden everything.
“A real golden boy,” she thought, not really meaning to, and froze when she realized what she’d done. Her hand slapped against the back of her neck, cheeks staining the same shade as his suit, and a wide grin split across his gorgeous face.
“Golden boy, huh?” he preened.
“It must have mistaken my thought process as activation,” she cursed. “Stupid alien technology.”
“So you were thinking about me?”
She threw her arm out pointedly toward the water. “Are we going in or what?”
Ruckus openly laughed, seemingly finding great pleasure in her frazzled state. He began wading into the pool, and her traitorous thoughts homed in on the contours of his back and the way his spine arched, and brought her gaze down to his tapered waist. His arms were corded muscle, his legs and torso long. She’d thought he was hot with clothes on, but seeing him like this …
He spun around once he was up to his chin, the grin still in place. No doubt he knew she’d just been ogling him some more. So far his people were an attractive species, reminding her of models back on her planet. He’d probably discovered the effect he had on the opposite sex years ago.
“Delaney,” he said, “come in.”
She licked her lips, stubbornly crossing her arms and cocking out a hip. She was still wearing the green dress and the shoes. The air here was getting crisp, licking against her skin in a way that left chills behind. The water looked like it’d be the perfect temperature, not too warm, not too cold.
“What if I promise to show you sometime? Will you come in then?” he said, and she blinked.
“What?”
“The flowers,” he said, and chuckled, clearly knowing where her mind had just been. “I’ll bring you here one of these nights and show you. You’ve never seen anything like it.” He held her gaze. “They used to be the only thing in this entire castle I actually enjoyed being around.”
A bitter taste rose in her mouth, and the warm feeling that’d been collecting in her lower belly vanished.
“Ruck—”
“What color is your hair?”
She frowned. “My hair? It’s red.”
“Red.” The corner of his mouth turned up in an interested half smile. “We don’t have redheads here. You’d be a commodity. Everyone would stare.”
“So it’s a good thing I look like Olena then, huh?” she managed.
“What color are your eyes?” Obviously, he was determined.
“They’re green,” she said. Then she added, “I got them from my grandmother.”
“What shade of green?” he asked.
“I’ve been told they look exactly like a cat’s.”
“You and cats.” He tilted his head, eyes roaming over her as if trying to picture what she’d look like as someone else. He’d see the black-haired girl he’d known for years, Olena. It was her body right now shoved into the sundress. Her eyes he saw rolling, her arms. Her legs. Her lips.
“You can stare all you like.” Even to her own ears, she sounded deflated. “You’ll never really see me.”
Ruckus flinched and was standing less than an inch in front of her before she could blink. Taking her by the elbows, he held her steady until she met his gaze, staring up at him from under her long lashes.
Were her lashes even long to him? She couldn’t recall what Olena’s looked like, if they were long or short and stumpy. Black, or dark brown.
“I’ll never really see me,” she pondered, pursing her lips. “At least, not the me that you’re seeing. Does that make sense?” When he didn’t respond, she elaborated. “I don’t know what I look like to you, Ruckus. I don’t know if when I make a sad face, that’s what everyone here actually sees. I don’t know Olena’s expressions or her mannerisms, or if any of my own carry over correctly.”
And, considering how hard it still was for her to look in the mirror, she didn’t really see that changing anytime soon.