Beth's Stable

by Amanda Milo

  Beth glances between us, before bearing down on Ekan, looking relieved to see him and more than a touch irritated with him at the same time.

  I can sympathize with her mixed reaction. When it comes to Ekan, we all have cause to feel it quite often.

  Beth watches with interest as Ekan passes her to carry his load of food to his room, which is just across the way and a little zig zagged from mine. He crosses to his bed, and takes a little care as he lets his load implode and drain from between his arms; packages, jars, boxes—all spreading out across the only clear surface his room has to offer. Swiftly, he lays out a plate and a hydration sleeve and even a cloth napkin.

  I bite back a grin. “You decided to bring her the galley instead of taking her there?” I’m taunting him. I know exactly why he didn’t bring her there.

  “And give you jacklegs the chance to swoop in? Hells no.” To Beth, he says, “Sorry for the delay, narra, I dropped in to chat with Bres and his female.”

  Breslin has a female? I bet Meesahrah’s already tried to eat her. My curiosity isn’t going to rest until I meet the woman, but I decide I’m not ready to leave these two alone just yet, and I settle my shoulders against the wall, ready for a show. “Do you know Beth isn’t Na’rith?”

  Ekan’s shoulders tighten imperceptibly. Less to do with my question and most to do with the fact that I’m still here, in his domain during what should be his alone-time with our mate. “If that bothers you, that’s fine by me.”

  What he means is if her heritage is a problem for you; more for me.

  I roll my shoulders. “Doesn’t bother me a wit. Beth is the finest of humans.”

  Beth pauses in the act of nibbling on a cracker, her cheeks going warmer in color even as her eyes roll in her head.

  As if she’s able to dismiss my claim. I’m not simply flattering her; being that she’s the only human I know, I can title her the finest and still do it with impartiality.

  Ekan starts laying out small portions of food, and I realize he’s arranging a sort of tasting tray for Beth. To me, he says, “You thought she was one of our females? Not a Gryfala?”

  Still watching him preparing her plate, I answer, “She looks nothing like a Gryfala.”

  “You’ve seen one?” Ekan falls still. Then he shakes himself, returning to the turmecht soup he’s measuring out. “I should be asking if you’ve ever seen our females. Beth looks nothing like them. Don’t you have a lifebearer?”

  I snort. “Yes, and Beth looks like my lifebearer.”

  Ekan considers me. “Cog-damn, really?”

  “Truly.”

  His eyes are wide, shocked. “Stunner spawner! Family reunion time for Oquilion,” he crows. He shoots a look at Beth, making a show of checking out her attributes even as he tilts his head in my direction. “This machaii should have introduced me to his lifebearer solars ago—”

  “TEVEK OFF,” I growl.

  Before Ekan can say something that will really make me wish I could introduce his face to my fist, Beth surprises us both by tossing back her head and filling the air with her laughter.

  CHAPTER 9—BETH

  BETH

  Ekan’s got the energy of a classroom of kindergarteners after mowing down their Trick ‘O Treat bags, and maybe like three or four litters of puppies.

  Okay, whoa—that analogy sounds way wrong. He’s not bunches of five year olds eating puppies: he’s got the energy of kids hyped up on sugar, and also like spazzy puppies.

  There. Moving on...

  Ekan gives a forceful goodbye to Oquilion—Oquilion, who waves at me sort of roguishly for a man being bodily removed from his friend’s bedroom.

  There’s one chair in here, but it’s covered in a mish mash of stuff. Ekan starts to sift through the items, but quickly gets bored of sorting so he unlocks big suctioned feet at the bottom and tips the chair, dumping everything off of it and onto the floor.

  I rest my hip against the side of his bed and treat myself to another spoonful of whatever the jelly-like stuff is among the alien hors d'oeuvres. It tastes a bit like bananas and pecans, but with no texture. Eh. Not the worst thing I’ve had to eat.

  Ekan starts to drag the heavy-looking chair over to me, but it keeps catching on the stuff he spilled off of it, and on the lone rug in the room. Finally, he drops it and moves to look at the legs. “Why is it hooking?” he asks in frustration.

  “Lack of opportunities, education. Comes from a background of poverty. You know, the common reasons for a chair to start hooking,” I offer helpfully.

  He stares at me.

  I shrug helplessly.

  He kicks his things out of the way and finishes dragging it next to me, then indicates for me to have at it. “Sit, narra, before you drop. I’m starting to feel a niggle of something foreign, and I don’t much like it.”

  “A niggle of what?”

  “I think this might be guilt.” He makes a face. “I’ve heard about it. Never thought I’d feel it.” He cuts me a look. “Not an admirer.”

  I narrow my eyes on him even as I sit back and struggle not to groan with relief. “Whyever would you feel guilt? Did you do something you should feel really, really guilty about?”

  He smiles faintly. “Oh, just afraid I might have overtaxed a spawner with my schemes and games today.” He selects the rubbery red celery-looking thing I’ve been avoiding touching, and forces it into my hands. “This is good for you. Grows strong spawn.”

  I take it from him and crunch into it. “About that. Can we call my baby a ‘baby?’”

  He shrugs. “We can call my offspring whatever you like.”

  “Your offspring?” I cough on the space celery—which tastes more like a very unripe leek. “This is my baby.”

  Ekan crosses a pair of distractingly well-muscled arms. “I bought your moonringed fetching little self, narra; therefore, you belong to me. It follows then that the spawn you carry is also my property.”

  “I dare you to say that again,” I snap, hoping he’s smart enough not to repeat himself.

  He’s not. “I. Own. You.” A grin tugs at his lips and he adds, “And your little rib-kicker.”

  I’m up out of the seat so fast, I surprise us both. He faces off with me, seeming to recharge now that there’s the possibility of an altercation on the immediate horizon. I’m going to give him the smackdown of his life. But before I can launch myself at him—to attack him, not to kiss him stupid, no matter how hot his smile is and how it’s making my heart race like an idiot—out of nowhere, the light in the room dims.

  Or it seems to. But it turns out, the recessed track in the ceiling is just temporarily blocked.

  By a body. A vast, towering, mountainous alien is taking up the doorway and it’s mortifying, but as soon as his shadow falls over me, I panic. It could be the big, purple Barney dinosaur behind me, the 1990’s neutered television version of a T-Rex, but my prey-wired brain says looks like a predator. A big one. RUN!—so I lunge forward and latch onto Ekan like I’m a sticky-footed tree frog. He’s going to have to peel me off of him if he doesn’t want to be my shield.

  “That was an interesting reaction,” Ekan murmurs. For once, his voice doesn’t sound playful at all.

  “I wondered where all the food had gone,” comes a voice so low in frequency that whales on Earth can probably hear him. “It was like it just disappeared. I thought to myself, ‘Who is addled enough to clear out the top galley?’ And then I knew the answer. I didn’t believe my nose though when I started for your room and caught a female’s scent.” I can feel unfamiliar eyes looking at me—but I don’t raise my own to meet the newcomer’s gaze. “And Creator. Not just any female.” He sounds half shocked.

  I slink around Ekan, my hands alternating what points I’m clutching him as I go so that I’ll be harder to drag away, should the giant grab me. I only breathe again once I’m behind Ekan, and he’s fully between me and the big guy.

  Ekan pulls out one of his many weapons from somewhere—what is he, a walk
ing armory? “Tiernan,” he acknowledges, and that’s as far as he goes in giving attention to the other alien’s arrival as he messes with his toy. Despite wanting to slap/throttle/kiss him a minute ago, I scoot tighter to my absent-minded owner, and when he pats my back, I dig my face into his shirt, pressing myself into his side for a semblance of protection as he continues to chat with the newcomer. “Isn’t she a pretty little thing? She was a two-for-one deal too. I get myself the best damn gifts.”

  “Not going to tell me her name?” this Tiernan says. He sounds amused.

  “I’m not going to give you the advantage of an introduction, no,” Ekan says mysteriously. He flicks something on his weapon, and when I peek at him, I see he’s made it glow teal and magenta.

  Tiernan moves closer. And I don’t see how huggable his immense arms have the potential to be. I don’t discern that his face isn’t as imposing as his frame. I only process two things: his tremendous size, and the severity of his expression—a disservice to him on my part, because his severeness is due to the intensity of his attraction to me, not because his features are formed out of a sense of coldness or sharpness or cruelness.

  But I won’t figure this out until much later.

  Tiernan reaches around Ekan and effortlessly catches me by the nape—and I breathlessly squeak and try to climb my oblivious protector. Being that I’m who-knows-how pregnant, I don’t succeed, and Ekan does nothing more than pat me again reassuringly—but he’s not even looking at me when he does it—he’s looking above my head, at Tiernan.

  Rough fingers caress the side of my throat, making me shudder. An otherworldly-sized thumb glides across my lower lip. It pulls down, taking my lip with the movement.

  I hiss at him before I bite back the reaction, thinking better of it.

  But Tiernan asks, “What did I just see?” He thumbs at my lip again, but I’m not opening up for anything. “Is this why you sent me a Comm asking questions about flat-toothed species and the type of plants they might eat? Ekan, next time, give me enough information to make informed suggestions.” To me, the giant offers a rumbly, “You really are a pretty thing. Let me have at your mouth.”

  Although my body perceives a threat, a tiny part of me registers that Tiernan is the same kind of alien that Ekan is, that Oquilion is, and based on my very limited contact thus far, I’d put Na’rith’s in the ‘these are okay aliens’ category. Plus, when I finally manage to dart a look up, Tiernan’s smile is wide, friendly. But I’ve been stuck all day with Ekan, who—despite the fact he basically hasn’t stopped smiling—is completely insane. Purely by association, I don’t trust this new guy’s smile for an instant. And I really don’t trust his sensual touch on my face. Fear heats my body and words boil out before I can stop them. “I’m warning you right now: if you try to put anything near my mouth, I’ll bite it off!”

  Tiernan goes very still. This close, I finally notice his eyes; the lack of malice in them. They’re full of curiosity, and at my words, this only sharpens.

  “That’s only puffery,” Ekan scoffs, voice easy. As he fiddles with a setting on his weapon, he adds a distracted, “Her teeth are fairly dull and her jaws have no capability for serious bite pressure: she’s bluffing.”

  Tiernan finally breaks the hold he had on my gaze, making me sag in relief, and he turns to make a face at his friend. “I hardly think that’s the issue here.”

  “There is no issue,” Ekan mutters, still playing with his stupid space gun. The clip makes a sharp snap when he pops it out to check the row of colorful darts that are lined up, one atop another. “She can’t hurt you.”

  “Ekan,” Tiernan intones with a patience I have to admire. I’ve only been around Ekan for four sales of my person and I won’t be patient if I get my hands on a blunt object I can clobber him with. No, actually—I want a spiky object. I want to find something with big, big spikes. And little ones: I want it covered in all kinds of painful spikes—dull ones too, just so they hurt more. (Cue the “Why a spoon, cousin?” Scene from Robin Hood. Man that’s a great line. Alan Rickman was a phenomenal bad guy and knew how to deliver his one-liners.)

  Tiernan’s continuing, still using his I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you voice, “You are mistaken. The issue that you should be concerned about is why this female believes she has to defend herself.” Suspicion tumbles into his voice. “Ekan? What did you do with your ‘gift’ after you bought her? You sold her, didn’t you? Did they hurt her?” He doesn’t give Ekan time to answer. His thumb finally leaves my lip as he drops his hand to catch my fingers, and he tugs me until I’m standing instead of cowering. “I’ve seen enough.” He looks right into my eyes, and I don’t want to trust him; he’s a strange man, a huge man—life experience has taught me to be wary. But now that I’m calmer, I recognize something about him is weirdly soothing. “Little female, what’s your name?”

  Anyone would be little next to this guy, but for him to call me little so flatteringly is oddly endearing to hear. “Beth,” I puff out quietly.

  “Beth?” he asks, and my body wants to sway into his. Sympathy is a strong drug, and Tiernan is doling it out like a badass mothertrucker.

  But I don’t let myself move into him. Instead, I lock this ridiculous impulse down and kick it to the curb.

  “Would you like to join me for the rest of the evening? We have a greenhouse,” he adds, like this sweetens the pot even more than escaping Ekan, “and you might—”

  “Don’t move,” Ekan cuts in, his voice low, and for the first time, he sounds deadly serious.

  Tiernan stiffens.

  My eyes are fixed on the slash Tiernan’s mouth makes when he curls his pillowy lip and hisses. It’s not a sound of surprise, but aggression. His glare narrows dangerously, and I follow his gaze down to see the weapon Ekan’s got aimed at his knee. “What in the tevek are you doing?”

  I’m totally taken aback. Ekan’s been so playful all day. Even when we were surrounded and he nearly got us killed, he was still nothing but jokes and bad-boy grins.

  He’s not grinning now. And he sure doesn’t look like he’s joking.

  Not taking his eyes off of a bristling Tiernan, Ekan carefully snags my arm and tows me so my back meets his hard-planed stomach. “I know it seems like Beth wants to escape me—”

  “Hard concept to fathom,” Tiernan drawls, eyes still slitted.

  “—But she can’t. I bought her as my gift to myself.” Ekan lowers his weapon. Tiernan’s nostrils flare. “And you know I never share my toys.”

  CHAPTER 10—EKAN

  EKAN

  “I feel disgusting after auctions,” I tell Beth as I yank her into the karzy with me. “Care to join me in washing up?”

  She backs out of my hold and moves away from me until her spine meets the door that’s slid closed behind her. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I kick my boots off, not bothered when they land on opposite sides of the room. I can always find them easily when I go looking. I rip off my socks, tug my tunic over my head and shrug out of it, then strip off my pants, enjoying the way Beth signals her interest by turning an assortment of increasingly heated hues. I’m not deterred when she tries to look anywhere else but at my body. I’ve heard this is a common reaction for a female if she’s not Na’rith—at least initially, and thankfully, it’s a very small room. She doesn’t have many options—certainly none as fine a thing to stare at as me.

  I wash myself, hissing when the water flashes from boiling to freezing—Beth must have availed herself of the commode and flushed. I emerge as naked as I went in, and Beth’s gaze continues to avoid me in a manner that is distinctly not Gryfala-like in the least, no matter how much she outwardly almost resembles one.

  And apparently, she resembles Oquilion’s spawner. Heh heh heh—note to self: send a Comm to his spawner and flirt with her in front of him. His reaction was too enjoyable not to milk out a couple more fun squeezes.

  As I cross to Beth, she doesn’t cower from me, but if her stiff
posture and the rolling whites of her eyes are anything to go by, she’s a bit wary.

  I don’t like it. I don’t want Beth afraid of me. I much prefer it when her eyes are sparkly and her words come out with the special bite she’s sort of patented just for me. “Beth, love, could you come here?”

  I don’t know what she assumes is the reason I’m calling her over, but I can take a guess, and whatever she has in mind makes her cringe as she complies. It’s slight, but I spot it. An unfamiliar pang hits my chest, and I roughly rub the heel of my hand over the area to quiet it down.

  This isn’t the plucky female who gave me hells when she felt I was treading on her tail. I miss that Beth. I want to get her back.

  “You can use my tooth sprayer, and I’ll show you how to operate the rain booth for whenever you’re ready to avail yourself of it.” I hand her my dirtied shirt. “To your left is a machine that washes clothes. Has your civilization mastered something like it?”

  Her eyes flash with irritation and her nostrils flare—her lips might even purse a little—but she looks less cautious of me. She looks like she might spit on me, but coming from her, I like this fine. I gesture to the machine. “Next to that is a drying drum. I’ve no idea what level of intelligence humankind operates at, but you seem to follow commands with aplomb. You should know that thus far, I’m very proud of you.”

  Oh, she’s definitely pursing her lips now. Also, her eyes are narrowed; it’s giving her an ever-so-slightly dangerous look—and Creator! You can mark it that it’s starting to heat my blood.

  I cough to cover my grin. “There’s a round yellow button—see that? It starts the washer, and the maroon button starts the drying drum. A word of caution for the dryer though? It’ll auto-stop when the average load of laundry is done, but because you’re only washing my things—” I pause to sweep my gaze up and down her body, “Although feel free to strip for me and take care of what you’re wearing too. Anything of yours touching mine sounds like a good time for me.”

  “How would you like the touch of my hand right across your face?” she purrs. With bared teeth.