Page 39 of Primal Hunger
It sounds like a chorus of death, scratching at my skin until I feel the need to tear the flesh from my bones, but Erin’s eyes glimmer with excitement. She fiddles with the knobs some more, and the hissing becomes louder and angrier.
My paws go to my ears, which does little to block out the infuriating sound.
Maybe I’ll just kill her and the radio to get this over with.
Chapter
Fourteen
Syros
“What is that?” I growl, the noise vibrating down to my bones. “You call this music?”
It’s biting, offensive, and hardly appealing. If this is what humans call music, they can keep the atrocity to themselves.
Erin seems unbothered, and continues fiddling with the buttons, the wailing shifting and changing as though she’s attacking it into submission.
“Make it stop,” I demand, pushing my palms harder against my ear holes to alleviate the assault on them. “This is offensive.”
She doesn’t obey—such a stubborn thing—but she adjusts a few knobs. Finally, the wailing stops and a faint, delicate noise floats into the air. Afraid it’ll revert back to the demonic mating call from moments ago, I slowly lower my hands and focus on the noise.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard, some kind of slow siren call that fluctuates from low to very high, and she turns it up a little louder.
The tension in my chest releases the longer I listen.
“See? Music,” she says, pointing to the machine like she’s proud of herself.
I can’t deny that I’m a little proud of her, too. Who knew the radio would function after coming through the portal? There must be something powerful that ties it to Earth, regardless of being in a different realm.
Just one more thing I don’t understand.
“You really don’t have music here?” she asks, her eyes softening. “Nothing like this? I find it hard to believe.”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing of the sort. This is alien and unique.”
Although I can see exactly why the humans would want to listen.
“That’s sad,” Erin says, moving in time to the music spilling from the radio. “So you don’t know anything about dancing either?”
I hesitate, wondering what she could possibly be referencing, but I’m clueless. Radios. Music. Dancing. What little I knew about humans before seems even less impressive now, and as much as I hate it, I find myself wanting to know more about them. More abouther.
“No.” I say. “Explain it.”
“Well,” she starts, cocking her head. “It’s not really something you can explain. More, it’s a feeling, a release. I’m not the best dancer, but I guess I could show you. It’s a way of moving your body. You let the energy of the music push you.”
She positions herself in the middle of the floor. I step back, expecting something grand, but when she starts swaying back and forth on the spot in time to the music, I nearly laugh.
Every shift of her arms or her hips matches the timing of the so-calledbeat.
“This? This is dancing?” I sway mockingly from side to side. “Are humans entertained by this? It seems like a waste of energy and time.”
I’m skeptical but entranced. The more Erin twists her form, the more I find myself unable to look away. I memorize her movements, greedy for more, staring at her hungrily.
This human is full of surprises.
“Well, there are lots of different dances,” Erin explains. “Some are faster. Some slower. Some with a partner.” Her eyes land on me and a curious glint, a look of pure mischief, appears in her eyes. “Come here, I’ll show you. You might even like it.”
I still, entirely unsure of what she’s thinking, and when I don’t move toward her, she stomps over and takes my hands in hers. I flinch, never having had someone willingly touch me before, and the sensation is strange. Unfamiliar.
