Beth's Stable

by Amanda Milo

  Whenever I imagined a harem, I always envisioned more pillows, I think inanely.

  Scowling, Tiernan shoves back his seat without another word, and stalks down a row of greenery.

  I try to sip my tea, and Prow happily helps me find cloth to mop up what I spill of it with the way my hands are slightly trembling.

  Tiernan returns, dropping down into his seat, making it creak like this is the last warning it’s going to be able to give him. He pulls himself to the table in a move that looks as gentlemanly as his next one: he holds out a long stemmed flower to me.

  “Oh,” I pip. “Thank you.” I take it, holding it in one hand, and I give up trying to manage a cup of hot liquid; I pick up the brush instead, clutching both gifts and trying to process the events of my life up to this point.

  HAREMS.

  “I’m pregnant,” I say faintly to Prow.

  He nods. “I heard. Would you like help with your mane?” He tilts his head to the brush I’ve got in a death grip.

  Tiernan’s big hand claps down over Prow’s shoulder almost before Prow can finish the question, and certainly before I can answer. He hauls Prow out of his seat saying, “Time to put you to work: let’s go.”

  Still wide-eyed, I watch two impressive aliens muscle sacks of dirt, mulch, and heavy planters while they growl and exert lots of grunting effort. As before, I find I don’t regret the show. With the idea of a male harem planted in my head, the display spins into my fantasies as I sit.

  Eventually, I manage to calm down.

  And because it’s just that darn good, I even finish my tea.

  CHAPTER 16—BETH

  BETH

  Ekan appears out of nowhere and snags me with a now-familiar arm-around-my waist move. “Do humans take naps?”

  Instantly, I forgive him for taking liberties (not that I minded him hugging me to his side, if I have to be honest). “Pregnant humans love naps. We sort of need them.”

  Ekan’s expression flashes to one of worry, his eyes scanning me quickly before he puts on his playful mask once more. “Then narra, let’s take a daybreak and go to bed.”

  I collapse onto his mattress gratefully. He immediately drops next to me, using my hip as his pillow again once I’m settled. He pats my side. “I’ll wait until you’re not dripping with illness before we rut our brainpans loose.”

  I blow my nose very pointedly into the handkerchief Prow procured for me earlier in the day. “Thanks bunches. Why are you so crazy?”

  Ekan’s lips curve up, but he looks almost… vulnerable. “Maybe I’m showing off for a female. Perhaps I believe it’s worth making an ass of myself if it succeeds in making her smile.”

  This shuts me up.

  I adjust the pillow against my neck.

  Ekan adjusts how his neck is laying over my hip.

  It almost makes me smile, even though, surely, these guys have a spare pillow, or a blanket we could roll up and use for one. Evidently, Ekan didn’t go looking for one, and for reasons I don’t care to examine, I didn’t ask anyone if they had a spare to loan us either.

  We doze, and when I regain consciousness, I see Ekan’s eyes are peeped open too, but he doesn’t bounce up with boundless energy like I expect. It’s nice to soak in a little quiet together—who knew he even could?

  Tentatively, because his head is right there, I brush my hand over his hair. He nuzzles deeper over me, and I tense—but he doesn’t take it farther than that. He lets me play with his hair, and it surprises me how much I like it. He’s basically an overgrown cat; very pretty, very warm, but I’m watching for the moment when his eyes go wild and a spazzy spell overtakes him.

  Cats. Sure, sometimes they can be jerks, but they’re so self-sufficient, and funny, and they make awfully comfy lap decorations. They’re not hard on the eyes when they’re draped on top of you either. I sift my fingers deeper into Ekan’s hair. “Ekan?” I rasp in my Jessica Rabbit and James Earl Jones-blend voice.

  Ekan shifts, sitting up a little, his eyes opening again. “Mm?”

  Since there’s no daylight on a spaceship, Ekan set the room to nightlight before we zonked out. Now, his arm brushes me as he reaches over to tap on the wall. Brighter light fills our space, and I see Ekan in his just-woken glory.

  Not a bad sight.

  I get right to the point. “I heard about this harem thing.”

  Ekan gives his head a shake, just one, and sits up a little more. “Not for you. You’re all mine.” He peers at me. “Tell me though,” he reaches out, skating his thumb over my dry, slightly cracked lip. He glances around his room, squinting at his piles of things. When he gets up and starts rifling through drawers, I don’t interrupt him.

  He returns to me with a round ball of what looks like… wax. I jerk back slightly when he drags it over my bottom lip. I can’t tell if he notices my reaction or is choosing to ignore it in favor of a kind of hardcore, 48-hour desensitization therapy. “What’s the process for human females colonizing with mates?” he asks soft enough that my eyes jump to his.

  I run my lips against each other, gazing into the calm of his greys. “Thanks.”

  His matter-of-fact retrieval of lip balm on my behalf affects me almost as deeply as all of his heavy flirting has managed. Because he’s not trying to impress me, or woo me—he saw I could use help and he was moved to do something nice for me. No deals. No trying to sell me. No strings attached.

  He watches my lips when he replies. “Feel free to show your appreciation in physical displays.”

  Nevermind. I throw my head back and make my throat sore when I groan. “I’m ignoring your suggestion,” I inform him, and he flashes me a smile. “Traditionally, we don’t ‘colonize.’ Most humans pair up in… pairs.”

  Ekan looks genuinely stunned by this news. “That’s wonderful!”

  “I’ve always thought so too,” I say. “But your friends—”

  “Crew,” Ekan corrects.

  “I was getting a distinct, definite friend-vibe,” I muse.

  “Jacklegs,” he scoffs. “We stopped being friends when I brought my female aboard.”

  Warmth curls in my stomach and it better be the baby moving, not me melting over some idealized view of his possessive words. “So you have no plans to share me.”

  Ekan’s gaze snags on my chest. “Correct.”

  “Do the other guys know this?” I ask.

  Ekan grimaces at my chest. “Those rakehells all know.”

  “Really?”

  He sighs and his eyes raise to mine. “It’s the female’s prerogative to choose who she spends her time with, mostly, so they’re aiming to be your choice no matter what I say.”

  I scoot myself closer to him on my knees, really wanting to hear his answers. “What do you mean, ‘mostly?’”

  Ekan lifts a strand of my hair, and starts to slowly play with it, swishing it over my jaw. “I mean that if you were a normal Na’rith female—and not my female belonging to me, me, and only me—”

  Despite myself, I smile at his insistence that I’m all his.

  “—You could have any male you choose on this ship. But we Na’riths experience mate synchrony, where an entire crew desires a future with the same female. From time to time, you’re bound to get stolen.”

  My eyes bug out of my head. “WHAT?!” I rock back and end up dropping to my butt, and to save my balance, I land on my elbows.

  “Not from the ship,” he’s quick to assure me—if this sort of answer can reassure me. “Just between the crew mates. Na’rith like to… well, Beth, you know we love to steal,” he says in the same matter-of-fact way I might say people love to breathe oxygen. “We see something worthy, and we’re infatuated. So we take it: it’s what we do.”

  I’m still struggling to process. “You guys steal women from each other?”

  As if he’s been with me through this entire pregnancy, Ekan expertly slides his arms under me and helps me sit up sort of perpendicular to him, with my shoulder resting over his hard thigh. “You
. We would steal you right out from under each other.”

  I stare at him.

  “Sometimes in the literal sense,” he feels the need to add.

  I try to swallow.

  “But you have nothing to worry for!” he insists, petting back my hair. “I’ve warned them all away from you; they’re aware of who you belong to.”

  My lips purse at the smug way he’s added this last part, and he grins at me before he goes serious.

  “Beth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just don’t…” he reaches out, and pets my stomach, making my skin tighten and relax under his hand. “Don’t get near Qolt, all right?”

  And I think to myself, who is this Qolt? And WHAT level of bad is he if my fearless pirate is warning me away?

  CHAPTER 17—BETH

  BETH

  When I’d asked Ekan as we rose from our nap what I, as his belonging and glorified possession, was allowed to do, he’d alien-shrugged and said I could do whatever I liked.

  Then he asked me if I’d like to see the treasure room.

  UM, YES. A treasure room on a pirate ship? YEAH, TAKE ME THERE!

  “I vow I’ll roll with you on piles of precious gems just as soon as I finish this deal I’ve got simmering,” he’d promised—and while I was having visions of Scrooge McDuck doing the breaststroke past mounded hills and in pools of golden coins, Ekan was ducking in and stealing a quick kiss.

  It was kind of cute.

  I sigh. Okay. He can be really cute, when he’s not driving me up the wall.

  “You look lost,” someone calls.

  I turn and find Oquilion.

  “I’m looking for something to do,” I tell him. “What the heck do you do on a pirate ship?” I’m thinking my sole option basically consists of exploring. I have to find some way of getting my exercise.

  Oquilion checks his wrist, where he’s got what looks, for all intents and purposes, like a watch. What it is about an alien (living on a spaceship) wearing a wristwatch that’s hard for me to wrap my head around, well, I’m not sure, but I’m a little flabbergasted.

  “Do you play cards?” he asks me. “I have some time.”

  I nod. “Yeah…” Then I shake my head. “But probably none of the games I know are the games you play.”

  Oquilion grins. “Let’s find out.”

  Before we make it to the table in a sort of relaxed dining chamber tucked inside the scullery, (Oquilion offered his room, but the memory of the other offers he made me when he invited me to his room was too loud to ignore and brush aside, so I chose the neutral ground of the dining table to play) someone shouts, “BRACE!”

  Dimly, I’m aware that the voice sounds like Prow, and since Prow is nowhere down this corridor, there must be a very clear-sounding speaker nearby. I only have time to ask, “Brace for what?” right before Oquilion dives for me, smooshing me into the wall of the corridor—but mindful of my stomach, not putting too much pressure—and he reaches up and grasps a handle above our heads.

  Huh. I didn’t even know there were handles in the walls, why are there…

  BOOOOM!

  The floor under my feet rocks, my back knocks up against the wall, and my stomach bumps gently into Oquilion.

  “What’s happening?” I choke out, panicked.

  “Nothing much to worry about,” Oquilion soothes. “Ekan’s boarded a ship to acquire some of their goods. Evidently they’ve learned of it, and they’re attempting to shoot us off of their hull.”

  “Ekan’s doing WHAT? We’re—they’re shooting at us?! Off of their…”

  “We’ve latched on to their hull,” Oquilion confirms with a gentle nod. “Our stealth shields are excellent; they wouldn’t have detected us, not with our tech. That means something went a bit awry inside the job. Not to worry though; Ekan’s a—”

  “Luck source,” I finish for him—with him, since he’s saying it at the exact same time.

  “We’ve been stalking this shipment for some time,” Oquilion offers conversationally as he straightens a little—but he doesn’t take his hand off the handle, and because of that, I don’t try to get out from where he’s got us tucked together. “They even managed to give us the slip; we thought we’d lost the chance at their haul for good, but then there they were. We didn’t dare pass the opportunity.”

  “Of course not,” I agree faintly. “Pirates.”

  “That we are,” Oquilion agrees cheerily.

  “BRACE!” Prow shouts again, and this time, I absolutely pinpoint the speaker his voice is piping out of. It’s positioned about three feet above my ear. Yowch.

  KABOOOM!

  We rock even harder, but the aftershocks aren’t yet shaken away when through the same speaker, I hear Ekan hollering: “SUCCESS! Let’s cut lose before their patrol can follow us out—”

  There’s a zzzolt! sizzling sound, and Ekan’s voice doesn’t sound buoyant anymore when he hisses, “Well, that hurt you more than me, didn’t it? That’s a bad luck boomerang, patrolman, and don’t you deserve it—this was my only shirt!”

  The transmission goes quiet.

  “Did he say ‘us?’” I ask.

  Oquilion’s eyes are doing a little zouk-lambada dance—not from my question, but because I think this activity is having a different sort of effect on him than it is on me. He seems to be growing excited in direct proportion to the danger level that feels as if it’s increasing. “Ekan and Tiernan went aboard.”

  “Tiernan?” I gasp. Why the thought of the giant Na’rith sneaking on this ship to steal their goods in secret shocks me, I’m not sure. He told me he pirated. Of all the pirates I’ve met thus far, he sure looks like he can take care of himself in a dangerous situation—but I guess it’s just that he seems too nice to sneak onto a ship with the intent to steal.

  A smaller explosion rips under my feet, or so it feels like. I must turn green, because Oquilion bear-hugs me and laughs. “That’s outgoing,” he says like that’s explanation all by itself.

  “Outgoing?”

  “Return fire,” he clarifies. “Krit, I should have taken this shift. This is great fun!” he crows.

  “We are definitely experiencing different emotions at the moment,” I inform him.

  “Beth?” Oquilion asks, letting go of the handle so he can kneel. “Are you feeling well?” He places the back of his hand not on my forehead, but on my throat, and I suppose that makes sense since my voice is affected—maybe he thinks the throat is therefore the spot on a human that you check. “Is it your sickness?”

  “It’s the excitement,” I correct.

  His eyes search mine. “Do you still want to play cards?”

  No, I don’t feel like playing anything at the moment, but I also don’t want to stay in this hallway, waiting to hear if Ekan and Tiernan are all right. “Is it safe for us to walk? What if there are more explosions?” I ask, and point to the handle, since we’ll have to leave its safety.

  “Oh,” Oquilion waves this away. “We have these all over the ship for just such occasions. Don’t fret.”

  “Oquilion?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please take my mind off of what’s happening.”

  Beginning to look concerned, he takes my arm carefully and leads me to the kitchen chamber. There are four steps down into this nook, and the doorway is shaped like a soap bubble that’s being blown off your hand; bulging wider on top, and slightly smaller on the bottom, vaguely bubble-oval shaped with a short lip we have to step over. Oquilion holds my hand to steady me as I do.

  There’s one table in here with enough chairs to sit six people, which is handy. Every vertical space is crammed with cupboards, drawers, and cabinets, all of them with doors that snick closed and stay closed when you shut them—a necessity when you live in a vehicle that makes aerial maneuvers, I’d suppose.

  There are card games and board games galore, and to my surprise, Oquilion keeps me invested in each of the games, keeping my attention on playing rather than worrying,
and he’s a great teacher.

  Prow’s the first to enter the kitchen and find us, and he’s soon joined by Ekan, who is looking victorious. If I thought the man was an energy squirrel before?

  He’s basically live electricity now.

  “BETH!” he shouts, his arms outstretched like he’s about to grab me right up.

  He does. “Oooph,” I protest. “Ease off, you overaffectionate psycho…”

  “Don’t squeeze her,” Oquilion barks in alarm.

  Prow’s boots clomp over—not that I can see him behind Ekan’s hard chest as it’s smooshing my face, but I hear him fine when he punches Ekan in the back and says, “Stop it. You’re going to smother her.”

  Feeling the strike—even through the barrier of Ekan’s body—makes me tense up.

  Ekan backs off of me. “That would be terrible!” He says it breezily enough—but his eyes look more serious than playful as he gazes down at me, and I know he noticed my reaction.

  “I appreciate that you recognize that,” I inform him blithely, (and a little more shakily than I’d like). I stare up into his still-mostly-elated expression until I feel grounded again.

  Ekan’s hand skims my shoulder softly, and gives me a reassuring squeeze. It feels like we’re having two very different conversations when he teases with his words a heartbeat later. “I recognize a fair bit. If you were smothered, I wouldn’t be able to play with you at all.”

  “Yes, that’s why you shouldn’t smother a female,” Tiernan says sarcastically as he enters the kitchen. “Nebulas and damnation, how did this jackleg end up in our crew?” he asks the other two.

  “Dunno,” Prow says, like he’s still trying to figure it out.

  “I think we lost a bet,” Oquilion offers, surreptitiously leaning over and flipping up my top card—which is technically cheating, but that’s been half the fun of him playing with me. He’s showing me all the ways to rig a game. He flicks a new card in my direction, even though I’ve been hauled out of my seat and can’t exactly reach my hand to continue the game.

  “Shut your yammerer cannons, all of you,” Ekan tells them, but he doesn’t sound bothered at all. To the contrary, he’s still in a great mood. He glances down at the game in progress, and without asking, he snatches up my (losing) hand and takes my spot.