by V. K. Ludwig
“What’s that?”
“Her human mate walked out on her,” I blurt. “It’s only natural that she’s hesitant and guarding her feelings.”
“That’s a no then.” Varac’s brows wrinkle, nostrils flaring. “Do you smell that?”
I immediately hurry back outside, following the smoky traces of burnt meat. “Lilly! The food!”
“Oh shit!” She jumps from her chair, strawberry margarita spilling over the rim of her glass, and speckling her dress red in some areas. “I’m so sorry, Jax.”
“It’s fine,” I say with as little tension on my vocal cords as possible. It’s not like I spent hours in the kitchen for it… “Sit back down and let me save it.”
“We got so carried away talking.” She plants herself back on the chair, taking a napkin to dry whatever of her drink spilled on the table. “Varac, sit down and help yourself to the salad and bread, just in case I ruined the meat.”
I stack the skewers, near black on one side, and turn just in time to watch Varac grab his plate. He scoots all the way to the end of the table, as far from Steph as the covered patio allows.
“This is terrorhog and rukan fowl marinated in shavini sauce for two days.” I put the plate at the center, pinning Varac down with my stare. “The peppers and onions are from our garden.”
Varac rolls his eyes and grabs a skewer, running his finger over it before he licks the grease. “Too much te’keri.”
“Vek you,” I snarl. “You got kicked out because you can’t cook to save your life. My cooking scored highest points in class.”
Lilly groans. “Gosh, I swear his cooking is to die for.”
“So,” Steph says, dangling a skewer between red-tipped nails. “No more collar, Jax, hmm? Does that mean you’re planning to stick around a while longer, although the crop is coming in nicely?”
I lean back into my chair and glance at Lilly, who sits beside me, my core humming with affection. “Lilly and I get along well, I think. And I like it out here. Reminds me of how I grew up. I wouldn’t mind staying a while longer.” Or forever.
Lilly takes a bite of the marinated meat, and her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment before she grins at me. “Where would I find a replacement for such an amazing cook?”
“On Vandalheim, our home planet,” Varac mocks with sarcasm sitting on his undertone. “Better yet, get yourself a second saikh. Nothing improves performance like a bit of healthy competition.”
“I’ll remember that,” Steph hisses.
“He can stay a while longer.”
My head snaps toward Lilly. Did she just say that?
She must have because she stares straight at me when she adds, “I still need him around for the harvest.”
My jaws clench, and my hand wanders to my neck, scratching the phantom pain of the shock collar. Underneath the table, Lilly may or may not be patting my leg. Hard to tell because numbness spreads across my body. And after the harvest?
“Right, Jax?” she asks with a wink.
A wink?
Is this supposed to be funny?
It has to be because everyone breaks out in laughter — everyone but me.
Varac howls the loudest, his mood drastically improved, fully aware that her joke was like a punch in the guts. Doubt infests my core right along with embarrassment, given how I told him of my plans to make her my mate only a few minutes ago.
To save face, I laugh with them.
It’s just a joke, right?
No need to panic.
But my laughter comes out throttled, and I wish she would have worded that differently. Or better yet, not at all. Way to make me feel like a slave all over again.
Varac carries a satisfied grin, and my fingers curl into fists. “Sounds like you’re getting an extension, Jax, before she gives you the boot. You better step up your game. Whatever pleases her, right?”
“At least he does please her,” Steph hisses in Varac’s direction. “Funny how life goes. I wanted a saikh and got a brute. Lilly wanted a male with brute strength, and she got the saikh.”
Varac slowly taps his collar, silently mouthing the word ‘saikh’ at me with more commiseration in his gray eyes than I can handle.
Lilly places her palm onto my lap and leans into me. “Everything alright?”
No. “Sure, sure.”
Her eyes pin me down, almost as if she’s trying to look right through me and read my mind. “Really?”
I’m tempted to ask Lilly for a word inside, but that might displease her. And if I want to put my claiming mark on this female, then I cannot, under any circumstances, piss her off.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “Everything’s fine.”
Seventeen
Lilly
“I just wish he would piss me off sometimes, you know what I mean?” I ask Steph and take the cake out of the fridge.
She curves up a brow. “Nah, I have no clue what you’re talking about. Varac is constantly pissing me off. For that, I could have gotten myself a mail-order-husband from Earth instead of a saikh.”
I place the round platter onto the counter, the buttery frosting topped with flower petals Jax foraged for all morning. “I never wanted a saikh.”
Steph digs a red nail into the frosting and licks it with a grave sigh. “Why did you tell him that he is your saikh then?”
“Because I kinda panicked, okay?” My stomach hardens, and dinner sits heavier in my guts than just a moment ago. “His question caught me off-guard, and I had to say something. I swear, five minutes after I called him my saikh, I realized…” I sink my head into my palm and pinch the bridge of my nose. “That I might be falling in love with this guy.”
Steph cocks her head, blue eyes searching for mine. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
“Because I have no clue if the guy I’ve got a crush on actually exists. Jax is literally trained to create an illusion that appeals to females, and I never know what is real,” I huff. “I had that with Nick, and it almost killed me when he couldn’t keep it up anymore.”
“Need some emotional support vodka? Because this sounds like post-divorce trauma talking. You’re getting cold feet.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Girl, Jax absolutely adores you. He’s all lovey-dovey, always observing your reactions, staring at you with soft eyes.”
“It’s his job to adore me and observe my every reaction.” I grab the knife and cut the cake in more or less equal slices. “We had sex a few nights ago. As in normal sex. Just some same old same old, and he was totally there. But most of the time… I don’t know.”
“Stop freaking out.”
“I don’t want to live a fantasy, Steph. Not again. If something is too good to be true, then it’s probably fake.”
“Sugar bean.” Her fingers dart for a slice of cake, crumbling apart on her tongue as she speaks. “You ruined his dinner, and he didn’t even bat an eye.”
“Exactly! He spent days preparing them, and he just shrugged it off like any good saikh would. Which means that he either can’t be anything different or doesn’t want to.” My chest contracts at what comes next. “He told me he’s never allowed himself to grow emotionally attached to females. I know he likes me, but I’m not sure if he feels the same way about me as I do about him.”
“Ask him,” Steph says, gathering four small forks from the drawer. “Sit down like two grown adults and discuss it.”
“That’s perhaps the most mature advice you’ve ever given, Steph, but it’s worthless in this case.” I toss the knife into the sink with a clank. “What do you think he’ll say?” When she shrugs, I draw out the words. “He will say whatever he thinks will please me. The way you burned the food was so cute, Lilly. I love pulling your bras from behind couch pillows, Lilly. Thanks for stomping into the house with your boots on, Lilly, I love vacuuming.”
She suckles another scoop of frosting from her finger. “Alright, I think I’m starting to understand where you’re coming from.”
; “Did you notice how quiet he got after I joked about needing him for the harvest?”
“Yeah, he looked tense,” Steph says. “Maybe he’s afraid you’ll send him away after all? Or perhaps it bothered him because another Vandalar sat at the table?”
I flip my palms up. “See! We’ll never find out because, if I ask, he will probably tell me nothing’s wrong, and everything’s fine. Nick literally said that while he was packing.”
“You shouldn’t compare them. Jax is a decent guy.”
“Is he?” Do I even know who Jax really is? Why am I breathing so fast? “Am I hyperventilating?”
“Totally.”
“Here’s the thing,” I say and fan myself. “Even if he did have feelings for me, they would come to nothing if he keeps up this illusion of a guy who reads every wish from my lips. Life doesn’t work like that. If he doesn’t tell me what bothers him, he will get fed up at some point.” And walk out on me.
“Bring it up,” she says. “Tonight, pull him aside and ask why he was quiet. Or better yet, mention your joke. Maybe you’re wrong, and he would tell you with some encouragement.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “You’re right. I’ll do that. Maybe he’s not used to voicing those things, and I simply need to pull it out of him.”
Steph puts the forks on a stack of dessert plates. “Not trying to patronize you, but I wish I had your problems. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“I have no advice, Steph,” I say. “You should probably ask Jax. After all, they spent months together in the same cell.”
“Varac is nothing like Jax. He barely speaks. If he makes a sound, it’s usually a bunch of annoyed grunts strung together. I can’t believe I got myself waxed bare for this. Shit burns like hell, and it was all for nothing.”
“Can you blame him, considering what he probably went through? Those Vandalar females don’t know what they have.” I grab the cake and carefully lift it up. “Let’s go back outside.”
Following behind Steph, I step out onto the patio but bump the plate into her back. “Move!”
“Where is he?” she yells.
I squeeze myself around her and put the cake on the table. “What’s going on?”
But Steph doesn’t answer.
She stands there, chest heaving, her eyes darting from chicken coop to muck heap to field. My fingers tingle, and realization dawns when Varac is nowhere to be seen. Oh shit.
“Jax,” I say. “Where is Varac?”
“He said he wanted to look at the terror… veking shit.” Jax immediately jumps up, letting his voice shatter through the humid evening. “Varac!”
Steph throws her hands up, splayed fingers shaking. “Not again…”
She immediately falls into a sprint, turning around the corner on wobbly heels. Jax and I follow, both of us calling for Varac.
“I’m giving you to the count of three,” Steph shouts at the top of her lungs. She stands up straight, clears her throat, and plants her hands on her hips, elbows wide. “One… fuck it. Jer’gut!”
“Augh!” A shout echoes from behind the barn, followed by a loud thud.
Steph starts running again.
So am I, pulse throbbing between my ears. I turn the corner of the red-brick barn, my feet faltering to a dead halt. “Oh my god!”
Varac lies on the ground, body stiff like drywall, veins popped on his arms and neck.
“The shock disables him completely?”
Steph gives a dismissive wave. “He always turns stiff like that. Give him ten minutes, and he’ll be able to speak again.”
“Always?” Jax kneels down beside Varac, checking gray eyes which stare straight at the sky. “How many times did he get shocked ever since you bought him?”
Steph shrugs. “As many times as he tried to climb the wall in my yard.”
“This isn’t normal. I got shocked twice, which hurts like vek, but it doesn’t disable you like this. And certainly not this long.”
“Oh that,” Steph says, tapping the com on her wrist. “Yeah, the law department downtown changed the setting on his collar. They got fed up with dispatching peacekeepers to catch him, and threatened heavy fines if I can’t keep him on the property.”
She swipes over the holographic panel illuminating from her com, and her hover car comes slowly driving down toward the barn.
“Jax, be a good friend and help me put him in the car, yes?” Steph opens the passenger door while Jax drags Varac over the ground. “Sorry for all this drama. I shouldn’t have taken him out just yet. He’s still settling in, you know.”
I scratch the back of my head. “Uh-huh. If you want my advice, I doubt he’s gonna like you any better for shocking him.”
“As if he left me a choice. They already wanted to arrest and trial him for disturbance, then toss him back into the slave market.”
Instead of a hug, Jax and I get a goodbye wave, and we both stare in silence as Steph hovers up my driveway.
“That was interesting,” I say, arms clasped in front of my chest now that the evening chill is settling down.
Jax fumbles his hands into his pockets and walks off, mumbling, “I’ll get the table cleaned up.”
By the time I’m back on the patio, I take the untouched cake inside, where Jax is loading the dishwasher. He says nothing, and neither do I, my throat narrowing with each passing second of uncomfortable silence.
This would be a perfect moment to head to bed early. Just skip this crackling tension of unspoken words and ignore his ramrod-straight spine, each clench of his jaw, and the way he loads the dishes in slow motion. But that would make me a hypocrite.
I carefully test the waters. “Aside from what just happened, did you have a good time?”
“Uh-huh.”
A breathed answer.
I hand him the final plate from the counter. “I sure hope they’ll be able to get along better soon.”
“Yeah.”
A one-word answer.
I lean against the counter. “Hey, umm, I’m really sorry that I burned the food a little. You have every right to be upset, you know.”
My stomach turns nervous. Please tell me it wasn’t just a little burned. Tell me it was black on one side, ruining all your effort.
“It happens.”
A clipped answer.
“I should have paid more attention,” I say, but Jax offers no reaction in return, and a wave of irritation ripples through me. What does it take for this guy to speak his mind?
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I ask. “You’ve been quiet ever since dinner. Are you upset because of the food? Or what I said about the harvest? Both?”
He folds his arms in front of his chest, muscles underneath his shirt bulging, and shakes his head on a long exhale. “I’m not upset.”
My throat turns dry.
Yes, he is.
And the fact that he’s pretending not to be is precisely what I meant when I talked to Steph. Answers clipped. Posture tense. He’s pissed, but, dear god, he would never tell me. Would never displease me. That’s what husbands do. Boyfriends. But not saikhs, right?
I push myself away from the counter. “I’m going to bed.”
“Hey!” Jax grabs my arm and pulls me against him. “You burned the food, so what? It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. It’s fine.”
“So, you’re saying everything is fine?”
“Yes.”
“Is it?”
Purple eyes stare me down, unblinking. “I don’t understand.”
“Is it fine because it is, or because you don’t want to displease me by telling me that I fucked up? That I said something stupid without thinking?”
There, it’s out.
And I stand there, frozen solid, waiting, hoping, begging for him to make a scene. To be irrational, insulting. To be real!
But he just narrows his eyes, concern edged to his features. “Did I displease you tonight?”
Argh! This guy…
“Jax,
let me ask you this.” I take a deep breath and stare straight into the most beautiful eyes. “Is there anything that ever bothers you about me? The way I always drop my shower towel on the ground and forget it there? How I fold laundry but then never put it away?”
His clasp tightens on my arm. “Never.”
“Never?”
“Everything’s perfect, Lilly,” he says. “Except that I can’t shake the feeling that I somehow displeased you. Tell me, and I’ll do better.”
“Why?”
“Why?” His weight shifts back, and he tortures his upper lip until it’s nothing but a white line. “Because I’m your saikh, right? It’s what I do.”
“Right.” My throat is so paralyzed that next swallow is a struggle. “No, Jax, you didn’t displease me.”
And that’s the problem.
This guy is too good to be true, which means he’s fake. And I feel like the biggest fool because I’m the idiot who’s falling in love with a guy who doesn’t exist. Fell right into that trap again, didn’t I?
I step away from his touch. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Do you want me to join you?” he asks, only reluctantly releasing me from his clasp.
“No.” Because I don’t feel like saikh tonight, and Jax is apparently not there. “Thanks for taking care of the kitchen.”
Eighteen
Jax
“Stop clawing into the chair like that.” Yekosh, the Vandalar male sitting across from me on a stool, dips the blood-stained blade into a container with cleaning solution. “It’s impossible for me to scar your fingers if you keep curling your knuckles like that.”
He takes a sterile wipe from the crinkling wrapper and dabs my hand with it before he tosses it into the biohazard trash beside him. Tacky ointment follows next, cooling the sting on my other, already completed hand.
I take a deep inhale, disinfectant burning my nostrils, and ease my grip on the next exhale. “Sorry about that. It’s been a while since I last scarred myself. Didn’t remember it to be quite so painful.”
Yekosh shakes his head, metal rings pierced through his horns clanking at the motion. “There’s no meat on your fingers. That blade cuts right over bones and joints, and close to a bunch of nerve clusters. It’ll hurt for many suns, especially in such a high-motion area. Not the smartest idea.”
