Zawla (The Hallans #1) Read Online Bethany-Kris

Categories Genre: Alien, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love Tags Authors: Series: The Hallans Series by Bethany-Kris
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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“Yes.”

“And why was it whispered on Earth?” I ask.

“We weren’t allowed to say it. It’s considered a curse. Not proper. I don’t know what to compare it to in your language.”

“Our only comparative might be stada. You say it if you’ve made an error or if things are too good to be true. Good or bad.”

“Oh, like if you fuck up?”

“Are you joking?”

She gives a shrug and I tickle her until she’s squirming in my arms. Then, as one, we settle into each other again until we’re as close as we can be.

“Well, we will say it whenever we want to, as loud as we want to here.” I tell her. “Look at my fucking hair. Get the fuck over here. I just fucked my Zawla.”

I love the way she laughs, uncontrollably and without care. “Maybe we don’t say that last one to other people, and it’s one of those words where the less you use it, the better it is. The more impactful it is.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

I kiss the back of her neck as I try to think of more ways to use this new word.

“Bo, why isn’t it night yet? I know your days are longer but it’s still not even dark.”

“It does not get truly dark here. Not like the sky looks when we were coming here. Right now is as dark as it gets, with the darkest moon over us. Our days are longer because we have several moons. I believe your planet rotates around the sun, but here with the many moons rotating around Hallalah, they reflect light even if the sun is not directly in our path. We go from the lightest to the darkest moon on each of our days.”

“There’s so much I need to learn and get used to.”

“And you will, especially with how much you love knowledge. But take your time. You have the rest of your life to learn and explore Hallalah.”

She places her hand atop mine. “The rest of my life with you. With my new family.”

“Exactly.” Then, I use her Earth words. “I love you.”

“I love you, Bo.”

SIXTEEN

I expect to wake up to Bo but by the time I roll out of the pillowy bed that still smells like us, he’s nowhere to be found in our home. The ceramic cup of sweet-smelling tea still rolls with steam at the surface of the deep red liquid. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I lift the cup for a sip to test the taste, but I already know it’ll be amazing.

Everything here is.

I take in the simple furniture of the bedroom, all handmade with little details like flowers carved into the chair legs, and the rug of winding blues and greens beneath my feet that keeps them warm above the stone floor beneath. I’m halfway through the tea, or whatever the drink is that Bo left for me, before my bladder makes itself known and I head for the box of sand and stone cistern catching running water in a room offset from the bedroom. There, I find a clean, white smock waiting for me and a purple cloak that reminds me of satin when I touch the fabric between my fingertips.

There are no automatic flushes taking the sand away this time, but a second box of sand with a carved wooden scoop makes things simple, but the steel bucket in the corner makes it clear that someone—Bo—will be taking any dirty sand out.

Washing my hands at the cistern and drying them on the fluffy cloth hanging from a hook on the wall, I finally think I hear my mate. Or something coming from somewhere. The sing-song sound travels to me until I discern what it is. I follow the whistling out of our private rooms and head for the rear of the house until I step out from the open doorway to stand on the smooth, big step.

The stone under my bare feet isn’t too cold under the shade of an eave hiding me from the morning sun. From my spot, I get to enjoy the sight of my mate as he cares for the horse-like animals he called the Kahlas. In loose trouser-like pants that stay bunched at his knees and sit low on his defined hips, every brush of the wooden paddle he drags over the hairless hide of the Kahla makes the muscles in his back ripple under the sunlight. Their stables, like the house, has been built into the mountain.

“You’re just jealous,” he tells the other beast when it turns its massive head Bothaki’s way for a nip that just misses his elbow. “You’ll get your brush, too.”

“Do they have names?” I ask, finally making myself known to him.

Bo glances over his shoulder with one narrowing eye. “How did you wake up without me hearing you?”


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