by Dixon, Ruby
“Pizza…bed?”
“Like a lonely pepperoni,” I say as he sets me down atop the fluffy mattress. I crawl into the middle and flop down as he stands by the edge, looking for the divot where he normally sleeps.
“Do I even want to know what a pepperoni is?”
“Only the best pizza topping ever, duh.” I lie flat on my back, wiggling, and my eyes are so, so heavy. It feels good to lie down, and I feel around for the covers. When I don’t find any, I squint one eye at him. “Where’s my blankets?”
“I do not have any.” He gestures at his body. “I have fur. There is no need for a blanket.”
I shiver. How can you have this kick-ass bed and no blankets? It’s criminal! “Well how am I supposed to sleep if I turn into an icicle?” Now that I know there are no blankets, I feel colder by the moment. I roll onto my side and look at him. He’s blurry thanks to the wine, but he looks warm and inviting, so I pat the mattress. “C’mere, kitty.”
“Kim?” There’s a question in his voice.
“You’re gonna be my blanket. Get in this bed.” I pat it again.
He hesitates, but only for a moment. Then, he strips off his fitted tunic and belt, kicks off his shoes, and climbs into bed next to me. Nassakth lies on his side, watching me. “Better?”
I nod, yawning, and scoot over the rest of the distance between us. I tuck myself against his fluffy mane as if he’s a pillow, curling my hands in his fur and pressing myself to his chest. I push one knee between his and worm my way against him until I’m completely warm and comfy. Oh yeah, much better.
“Kim?” he asks, voice a husky whisper.
“Shhh,” I tell him drunkenly. I reach up and put a finger on his mouth, even though it takes a few tries to find it and I mostly stab him in the face with my finger. “Now we sleep.”
The last thing I hear as I drift off is his rumbling purr of amusement.
24
NASSAKTH
A low groan of pain wakes me from a deep sleep.
I open an eye to look at the small female curled up against my side. She doesn’t sleep like a praxiian does, curled around oneself, tail tucked against a leg. Compact. Neat. Respectful of space. No, Kim sleeps as if the entire bed belongs to her, and since I am in it, I am therefore hers as well. Her limbs are sprawled, and she is turned on her side toward me, one leg shoved between mine and tangled with my tail. In her sleep, she has somehow grabbed my arm and clutches it as she sleeps, tucked between her breasts and my hand dangerously close to places I want to lick fiercely.
Her eyes are still closed, her expression screwed up in a look I can only describe as “miserable.” Kim groans again.
“Are you well?”
She flinches, smacking her lips slowly. “Is…is it really loud in here?” she whispers.
My poor Kim had too much wine, it seems. I lean forward and nuzzle at her hair. “Shall I get you some water and hard bread to nibble on to help your stomach?”
She nods again and whimpers when I get out of bed and the mattress dips. I return a few moments later to find she has an arm thrown over her eyes to blot out what little sunlight there is peeking through the window coverings.
“Something tells me you are not going to wish to go to your farm today,” I comment, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. I hold the glass of water out to her and watch protectively as she takes small sips and nibbles on a crust of hard bread.
“How is it you’re not feeling like death warmed over?” Kim croaks at me. Her expression is accusing. “I feel awful.”
“I am much larger than you. I imagine I can handle my wine better.” I don’t point out she finished my glass…as well as several more than I did. I liked watching her enjoy herself. “Go back to sleep. Nothing is so urgent that it must be done today.”
Kim finishes the bread and the water, then lies back down again with another groan. I make a mental note to water down the wine I serve next time. I want her to enjoy herself but not if it will cause her pain. I watch her go back to sleep, and then head back out of the bedroom. If we are not going to her farm today, there are many things I can do to make mine more comfortable for her. I spend all morning watering and checking each plant for bugs, determined not to give her another nasty surprise. I put a meal of salty askri noodles peppered with leftover meat on for lunch, and while it simmers, I head to my war room to find a weapon for Kim.
It must be the perfect weapon for her, taking into account the length of her arms and the lack of human upper body strength. Skill does not matter, because I will teach her everything she needs to know. I do not want her to ever have to use these skills, but I am a practical male above all, and she must be equipped with the right tools to protect herself.
So I consider my options. Shock-sticks. Throwing knives. Blasters. Swords. Brass knuckles and hand-held weaponry. A bow. I eventually decide on a small, lightweight sword. For someone my size, it is little more than a stick with which to poke and irritate. But it is light enough that Kim will be able to wield it easily, and the sides are slightly curved and dangerous. Pleased, I sharpen the blade to razor sharpness and sheathe it once more. I return to my noodles and set two bowls in the warmer, since Kim is still asleep, and head out to do the rounds on my farm.
Farming is not how I imagined it would be when I started. I check the maintenance logs on the bots, check my crop ratios and estimated timelines for harvest, and run a scan on the temperatures and health of the meat-stock. Then, the farm more or less takes care of itself…which leaves me with a lot of spare time.
Hobbies. I consider what Kim said. I need hobbies. She is right that I still spend all my time waiting for war, waiting for things to be taken from me. Waiting to have to fight for what is mine. But all has been peaceful and quiet these last few years and I think the violent gladiator who killed his master has been forgotten by all.
I hope.
Now I can focus on new things. On the future. On Kim, my beautiful, fragile human mate. On wooing her. I decide to watch more human videos. Perhaps some of the ones with the mating rituals will show how a female likes to be courted, since it is clear that praxiian methods leave much to be desired.
I head for my entertainment room and flip through the vids I’ve procured. There is one I have not watched that seems particularly promising, and so I click it on and watch.
Right away, it becomes obvious that this is not a vid about courting practices. It is a mating video, pure and simple. The female, dressed in a ridiculous costume, simpers at the male’s bedside and when he pulls out his cock, she drops to her knees and begins to suck on it with loud, enthusiastic noises. I cross my arms and snort as I watch this unrealistic mating ritual. I do not know much about Kim, but I know if I pulled my cock out, she would not drop to her knees and suck on me, no matter how much I might dream of such a thing. Likely, she would run away screaming instead.
This is useless.
A soft throat clears behind me, and my ears go back.
Kef me. Why does Kim have such terrible timing? I fight back a groan of frustration as I hastily click the vid off and turn around to greet her. “Good morning. Or good afternoon,” I correct, since it is past lunchtime.
Kim looks better than she did this morning, the puffiness gone from around her eyes and her hair is smoothed into a knot at the base of her neck. She still wears her clothing from yesterday, though it is wrinkled and stained, and I make a mental note to get her new things to wear.
…provided she stays, of course.
Because now Kim is watching me with a most suspicious look on her face. “Why were you watching porn? Human porn?”
25
KIM
It’s interesting to watch Nassakth’s reaction. His face is slightly furry so he doesn’t exactly blush, but his ears go flat and his tail flicks wildly when I catch him watching the smutty vids. I’m not angry about it, because it’s not like we’re a real couple. He’s a guy, and guys are into porn. It’s the fact that he’s watching hum
ans go at it that makes me a little suspicious.
“It is…not what it looks like.”
I cross my arms. “It looks like human porn.”
He hesitates, and then his big shoulders slump. “I was hoping to learn human courting techniques, but I do not think there is anything applicable to be found in those types of vids.”
I soften at that. Nassakth always tells me what he’s thinking, even if he knows I won’t like it. I appreciate his honesty. He’s said several times that he wants this to be a real mating at some point, so of course it makes sense that he’s watching something like that to pick up tips. “Yeah, those aren’t about courting as much as they’re about…fornicating.”
The praxiian’s fluffy tail swishes. “I noticed.”
“You could have asked me.”
I could swear the fur ruff—his mane—prickles just a little, as if standing upright. His expression grows stiff. “A male is supposed to know how to court his female where I am from. We do not ask for guidance. It is considered insulting to ask a female how to court her.”
Funny how he’s so uncomfortable about asking me how to woo me, when he was fine with whipping it out and jizzing on my door to try and impress me. “As a human, can I just say that the best way you can court me is be my friend? Be nice to me? That’s all I want.”
Nassakth goes completely still, and for a moment, his expression looks so very, very sad. “Is that all you want?”
For a moment, I want to relent, but the words stick in my throat. Of course that’s all I want from him. This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. Friendship would be a lovely bonus. “I think so.”
“I understand.” His voice is grave. “I will not press my feelings upon you again.” He moves away from the vid display and walks past me, heading for the kitchen area. “I have made you lunch. Come and eat. We will take the rest of the day and recover from our excess of wine. Tomorrow, we will return to your farm.”
And somehow, that is that. No arguments, no protests, just a boundary set between us. So why is it that I feel so very…disappointed?
* * *
* * *
* * *
That lingering disappointment sticks with me the rest of the day. Like I’ve done something wrong. Nassakth says nothing to make me feel that way, of course. He’s extremely courteous, takes the dishes as we’re done eating, and then disappears into his gym to work out for hours on end.
It’s the perfect time for me to work on my chapters that I can send to my ladies, but…I find it’s difficult to concentrate. I set up in the bedroom, lounging in the bed, but it reminds me too much of last night and just how comfortable it was to be curled up with him. If I’d been sober, I’d never have invited him…and yet now I can’t stop thinking about it. How warm and soft he was to cuddle up against. How good it felt to have contact with another person—comforting, affectionate contact.
I didn’t realize I was so starved for it.
The bedroom leaves me rattled so I head into a sunny section of the house, curl up in an oversized chair, and bring up my files on my datapad. It’s no use, though. I’ll write a sentence, and then pause, looking around the room. Write a sentence, then listen to Nassakth grunting as he lifts weights. Write a sentence, let my mind drift. Eventually Nassakth heads into the kitchen and I hear the clang of pots and pans as he gets to work.
By dinnertime, I have all of a pathetic paragraph written.
I send a note out to the others, feigning pollen-induced migraines (sounds likely) and that I’ll post a new chapter soon. My inbox immediately floods with notes from my friends, telling me to feel better, and that makes me feel even guiltier. I should tell them I got married and it’s messing up my mojo. I imagine they’ll understand—several have made marriages of convenience over the last few months as threats against humans have escalated. No one would judge me.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to type the words.
Dinner feels strained. At least, it does to me. Nassakth is courteous, asking me gentle questions about my farm, and the weather, and what I’ve seen of Risda. Safe topics. He talks about his meat-stock and how he learned to become a farmer, and it feels like we’re two guests trapped at an awkward house party, being forced to converse with one another.
Nassakth drinks water.
I have wine, because he knows I like it, but the fact that he’s not drinking with me just reinforces the stiff awkwardness that’s fallen between us. I sip mine, and when he offers to refill it, I shake my head. I want to chug the entire bottle. I want to get drunker than hell and drag him back into the bed with me so I can cuddle him and feel warm and safe again…but that’s not fair, is it? Because I told him I wanted to just be his friend, and friends don’t cuddle. Especially not if one of them wants to be more than friends.
We pile the dishes into the sonic cleanser companionably, and then stand in the kitchen, waiting for each other to speak. To figure out what to do with one another. It’s too early for bed, and I’m far too sober to invite him to join me. But parting again after all afternoon at opposite ends of the house feels…wrong.
I tilt my head and look up at him. “Slapjack?”
For the first time all day, a smile curves his feline mouth. “I would like that.”
A rush of warmth unfurls through me at his smile, and I realize that’s what’s been missing all day. He’s been utterly polite and kind, but he hasn’t been warm. He’s holding back, and…I don’t like it.
“I’ll get the cards,” I tell him, smiling back.
“Shall I get—”
Before he can finish the sentence, there’s a gentle ping that chimes through the house. “Perimeter alarm,” the computer says sweetly. “Local authorities incoming.”
Nassakth stiffens.
“That’s weird,” I whisper (and then I wonder why I’m whispering). “Why would the local authorities come here?”
“No clue.” Nassakth’s voice is utterly flat. I watch as he doesn’t head for the door, but goes to his war room instead. He returns a moment later with two blasters holstered to his belt and a wicked-looking knife strapped to his hip. He glances over at me and hesitates. “Perhaps you should hide.”
Hide…?
26
NASSAKTH
I am suspicious the moment the perimeter alarm goes off.
I have bribed the local authorities many times to ensure my (relative) obscurity. That is how things are done on Risda III. The locals make a show of spouting the laws and then hold their hands out for the appropriate bribe. Luckily for me, I have credits. Credits soothe away all problems. Everyone has their price.
So it’s very surprising to me to see Sivorrin, one of the port authorities, in his uniform, heading to my door. Even more surprising is the unknown figure at his side. A tall, mean-looking mesakkah with dingy, capped horns and a scarred face that tells me he served in the war.
I shoot Sivorrin an irritated look, and he deliberately avoids eye contact. “Greetings to you this fine day, Nass. My friend here has a few questions.” He tilts his head at the silent messakah.
Ah. Someone else has bribed Sivorrin more than I have.
I fight back a swell of irritation and step outside, closing the door behind me so they cannot look upon Kim. That is my mate. “You both dare greatly to approach a newly-mated praxiian at his home,” I say in greeting.
Sivorrin looks uncomfortable. The mesakkah just lifts his arm and begins to type into a wristpad. “We will not be here long,” the hard-faced man says. “The Homeworld bounty hunters guild is looking for this man in connection with multiple crimes. We’re paying well for any information that can be provided in regards to his location. I have been told he was last seen on this planet.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I hope Kim is inside, hiding as I told her to. Not because she is in danger—I will destroy them both before I let them even breathe upon her fair skin—but because I do not want her to worry.
The bounty hunter pulls up
a holo-vid and the image is all too familiar. It is her second suitor, the one I got rid of and even now lies buried in my fields. He shows me the display, watching my face, and I notice several things about him. One of his eyes is cybernetic, scanning and recording information. The arm he holds out is synthetic. The weapons strapped to his waist are not the usual guild issue, which means he is either an independent bounty hunter or not one at all. Doesn’t matter. He’s not getting a single answer out of me.
“Haven’t seen him,” I comment blandly.
“He’s a slave trader,” the bounty hunter says. “Look again.”
I bare my teeth at the male. “I said I haven’t seen him.”
“I’m told he specialized in trading humans,” the bounty hunter continues, ignoring my words. His expression is assessing. Cold. “Is your new mate a praxiian?”
My jaw clenches and I look over at Sivorrin, wondering how much he’s spilled with the promise of a few credits. “Does it matter?”
“Does she know any human females? If so, I’d like to speak to her.”
My ears flatten and I can feel my fur prickling. Does he think to involve Kim? Or to pin this on her? I take a menacing step forward. “Perhaps you did not hear me when I said that I was newly mated?”
Sivorrin takes a step back and grabs the bounty hunter by the collar. “Jamef, maybe—”
The mesakkah flicks his hand away with a dangerous look. “Touch me again and you will lose that hand.”
Sivorrin shrinks back.
Jamef glances over at me. He looks around my serene homestead, full of greenery and open fields, and my costly, imported trees. He glances at the windows of my house, and then finally back at me. “If you hear of anything, I’m paying for information. Nothing more. My bounty is simply to provide his whereabouts, be it dead or alive.”
