by Amanda Milo
He doesn’t offer his hand, and I don’t offer mine because I’m not sure what his customs are. But he sounds genuinely friendly and the guys say he’s a good guy, so I give him a smile. “Nice to meet you. I was wondering if I could meet Gracie.”
Pasutha’s eyes wince—and I’m taking note of that even while he tips his head and says, “She might like that.”
“She might not,” says a very human voice.
My neck cranes so I can get a look at her. It’s sad how excited I am to see one of my own kind, even if she is a stranger. “Hi! I’m Beth.” I hold up my cup. “I brought you a treat. How’s the accommodations?”
“Just great,” is her hard reply.
Pasutha, eyes darting nervously between us, nods to me and leaves the room—flees it, more like. From her perch on the bed, Gracie watches him scurry by, and I’d classify her lack of interest in his escape as apathy—but she seems too… too angry to be mistaken for existing in any realm of indifference. Her eyes collide with mine again. “I’m having a great stay at the Humane Society for Prostitutes in the Sky.”
I’m not sure how to address this so I try to address her anger. “You don’t have to lash out at everybody,” I try to say lightly.
Gracie pins me with a dead look. “Fuck. Off.”
I’m really not sure how to help her. I’m not qualified to even wade in to what she must be struggling with. Not sure what else to do, I turn to go. I want to leave the caramel iiwykia, but she was very explicit: she wants me out of her space. I clutch the mug over my bump and waddle quickly, trying not to let her see the way my chin feels like it’s quivering.
Behind me comes a very painful-sounding sigh, the kind that comes from somewhere very down deep inside a person. “Wait.” Gracie makes a sound like she’s growling and groaning at the same time. “I’m sorry I’m being a bitch.”
I’m afraid to turn back. But I do, and I try to smile as I extend the cup of caramel goodness to her. “They look creepy, but you wouldn’t believe how good they taste.”
Gracie takes one look at the alien sea creatures in the cup and she silently shrieks—but with a full body shudder, she gets ahold of herself.
She doesn’t try tasting it.
Silence hits as we both seem to cast about for what to say to one another. All the polite niceties on Earth wouldn’t be appropriate to ask here. I mean, I don’t dare ask her who she was, or what she did before she ended up abducted, or mention anything at all to do with her life before… before she was sold to an alien brothel. But what else does that leave us to talk about? “Do you… do you want to walk around? I can give you a tour.” I glance around the room. “Get a change of scenery, as much as we can on a spaceship.”
Gracie sets the mug down on a low table by the bed, and crosses her arms. “I’ve been stuck in a seedy underwater by-the-fuck motel room for what felt like a lifetime. I’m more or less institutionalized now, and the idea of encountering horny pirates while I’m out and about doesn’t sound like my kind of time. But thanks.”
“No, no,” I rush to assure her, stricken. “They’re not like that—they wouldn’t touch you. My guys are good guys.” I really reach for another smile, but the scenarios she’s been afraid of make me too sad. In her shoes, unsure of who she’s surrounded by, I wouldn’t want to wander out the door either. “And they’re… they’re my guys.”
It feels good to claim them. I feel proud to claim them. Now I can manage that smile. “You’re safe with them. Honest.”
She gives me a curious look. “So you’re fucking all five, huh?”
My shoulders hunch. “Seriously, you’re going to judge me?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth—as soon as I see her grimace as she interprets meaning in them, meaning I didn’t intend—I wish I could take them back. My words sound like I’m throwing her situation in her face—I’m not. I only meant that I didn’t exactly pick my circumstances, and it’s no one’s business but mine how I deal with the particulars. And this, what the guys and I have together, is acceptable here. We’re happy. So what if I’m sleeping with all five of them?
Gracie’s teeth flash, but it isn’t in a smile. “I wasn’t judging. That was me trying to make conversation—”
“I didn’t mean it how it sounded—” I say quickly.
“—But you seem sensitive about this. You should really think about trying to loosen up—although, one would think you’d be plenty loose with five—”
She bites her words off, but not before they hit some spot inside me that is indeed pretty damn sensitive about this.
I’m shaking. I don’t rub the goosebumps that are breaking out over my arms. “Feel better?” I ask.
Gracie’s head drops back sharply, and she blows out a loud breath. “No. I don’t.” She inhales, and it’s almost a calming sound. “Okay. Here’s attempt number three at civil conversation…”
There’s a long pause while neither of us speaks.
Gracie pokes her tongue into her cheek. Then she raises her head, capturing my gaze, her eyes a little squinted like she’s trying to figure a way to reform the pieces of a puzzle without the benefit of having the box as a guide. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to figure you out. I figured you were brought here by the alien who purchased you at the auction so you could fuck him and all his friends.” She looks down at my stomach. “I’ve been wondering how you’ve been handling the whole passed-around deal, is all.”
I hear no sanctimony in her words, but my response is more clipped than I mean for it to come out. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t anything like that. I’m their mate, not their prostitute.”
Gracie rears back a little. “Well fuck, you’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t know the difference; I am just a prostitute.”
I sigh and rub my face. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to imply—” I try to reach out to touch her on the arm, a gesture of apology, but she jerks away from me.
Her eyes are blazing. “Don’t fucking touch—” But just as quickly as the words spew out, she locks her jaw and drops her face into her hands for a moment.
Unsure what to do, I stand there, gripping my stomach.
“Look,” she says tiredly, slumping in defeat, “Just go. I’m not feeling right. There’s no point in you taking the brunt of—me, I guess. Just… get the fuck out of here.”
I start to take up the caramel iiwykia that she’d pushed to the little table beside the bed, but I say instead, “I’ll leave these for Pasutha.” And I do as she asked, and leave her alone.
CHAPTER 47—BETH
BETH
“It was a disaster!” I sob into the pillow. It’s Oquilion’s pillow. I was craving Tiernan’s sagacity but I was afraid he’d smell the caramel iiwykia on my breath—or worse, pass by the now-empty tank after my iiwykia-binge, so I’m hiding in Oquilion’s room.
Oquilion doesn’t mind—or he wouldn’t, if I weren’t so upset. When I chance a look up at him, he’s frowning deeply. “Is this normal among human females? Are they harsh to each other?” The touch of his hands changes to something less soothing and more clinical, like he’s checking me over for injury. “Did she claw or bite you anywhere?”
Despite myself, I snort into his pillow. “We’re not cats, Oquilion.”
“What are cats?”
I lift my head, and sniff. “On Earth there was this game where two characters would encounter each other and start conversing. If the conversation was going well, you’d see a plus sign above the character’s heads—because they’re happy. They’re receiving positive stimulation from their interaction.”
Eyes focused on mine, Oquilion gives me an almost hesitant drop of his chin, indicating in a man-way that I should continue to my point.
“If the conversation did not go well, you get a ‘negative’ sign, a little minus-dash,” I explain while he blinks at me, “It pops up above the character’s heads, and your stats go down because your character’s mood tanks.” I sniff again, my body shuddering
with it. “My mood has tanked.”
“This is not good,” Oquilion offers, his brows flat. White spots appear on his jaw, he’s clenching his teeth so hard. His gaze slices to the side as he stands. “We’ll find somewhere to deposit Pasutha and his—”
“Wait!” I struggle to get up, accepting Oquilion’s hands when he moves to help me. “No, don’t send them away. Dammit, Gracie isn’t nice, but who would expect her to be? Since waking up at that auction, some of the worst things I was afraid could happen to me—they DID happen to her.” I shake my head. “It’s hard to tell if she’s just naturally abrasive, or just in a really, really bad place from her…” Images of what she must have endured flit through my mind. “Captivity.”
When Oquilion doesn’t look convinced, I take his face in my hands. “Not all women fight,” I insist. “I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in her safe space. She advised that I leave her alone, and I’m going to give her that courtesy from now on. We’ll be able to steer clear of one another no problem; this ship is huge—and she doesn’t sound like she has plans to wander much. Maybe we can try again when we’re not feeling so frayed.”
Oquilion leans in close enough that I can feel his exhale on my lips, smell his breath, and stare into his eyes. “Okay, Beth.” His fingers stroke my cheek. “Whatever you want, narra.”
“Right now,” I say, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck and pulling him closer, “I want you.”
Oquilion’s smile lights his eyes, even though I must look like a mess. “I can definitely give you me. And Creator knows I’d love to have you.”
I sigh into his mouth after we break from a soft kiss. “I adore the things you say to me.”
Big fingers brush my hair behind my ear. “Narra, wait until you experience the things I do to you.” His eyes skim over my tight-feeling top, my breasts swelling for him that fast. “Let’s get these excuses for clothing off.”
CHAPTER 48—QOLT
QOLT
It’s quiet out here in the pasture. Breslin’s homestead always has a peaceful, wholesome feel you can’t help but breathe deep and absorb.
...Least as long as you don’t take into account Breslin raises carnivorous cart animals.
But they aren’t all fierceness. Like everything, they have a soft spot. “The ear too?” I murmur to the foal, chuckling low. My knuckles graze the animal’s ear then knock it flat when the foal arches its neck, shoving into my touch, demanding I pet it where it wants.
“Awwww!” comes a sonic squeak.
I drop my hand from the foal and step back to find Beth. “Narra.” I incline my head to her.
The foal bites me in the back.
Beth frowns. “The baby wants you. Don’t stop loving on it just because you've been caught being sweet,” she admonishes.
“I’m not sweet.”
Beth considers me for a long moment before her eyes warm. “No, but you have sweet moments,” she says quietly, gazing up at me.
The foal digs into my shoulder with its sharp teeth. I catch it by the nostrils and the animal freezes, not sure how to react. After a beat, it bobs its head, testing my grip on it, and—playful to the letter like any young creature—it begins bouncing its chin, making my hand go up and down as my fingers stay hooked carefully inside its nose.
Beth’s grinning as she joins me, leaning into my side. “This is one big baby.”
I glance down at her, struck by how the sun flashes in her mane, and paints healthy color on her skin. I look back to the foal. “This one’s got to be two solars—or laps around the sun, as the Iechdymaw say. It’s not much of an infant anymore—it’s probably already receiving training.”
“Still acts like a baby,” Beth says with a laugh as the foal moves lightning fast to dislodge my hand—and then sucks my hand into its mouth.
Its slobber escapes around my wrist in drool strings that run down my arm. “All right, you long-legged troublemaker,” I grumble at it. “Let go.”
“Here,” Beth says, breathless with trying not to giggle, “I’ll try to help…” She inserts her thumbs on either side of my wrist to break the Narwari’s hold on me.
It works, and I pull free, slinging foal spit onto the grass as I shake my arm off. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Beth says with a grin, her eyes shifting back to the foal.
“Want to pet it?” I ask.
Her voice becomes nearly hypersonic chirps. “I’d love to!”
Surprised, but by no means afraid of her enthusiasm, the foal’s ears cross, attention trained on Beth.
Wiping my arm across my thigh to scuff away the worst of the slime, I move up behind her. “Avoid the mouth.”
Beth snorts. “You don’t say.”
I take her hand and raise it up to the Narwari’s head, and the foal squeals.
Beth jerks her hand back.
We’re still connected though, so I stretch her touch out again, assuring, “That’s a pleased sound.”
She twists her neck to throw me an incredulous glance. “That’s a scary sound.”
I tip my head. “Fair enough. It’ll raise the hairs on your arm, but for a Narwari, this is what delight sounds like.”
“Strange creatures,” Beth remarks—but she’s gone all soft, smiling as she strokes the foal and the foal digs its ear into her fingers, insisting she scratch it at the exact spot it wants.
Surreptitiously, I inhale just above Beth’s mane, and my eyes almost roll back. Real sunlight on our skin, fresh, unfiltered air tickling our faces, and my mate resting against me.
This must be what contentment feels like. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before.
Not like this.
“Thank you for helping me pet it,” Beth whispers, like she might spook the animal.
The foal paws the ground with its cloven hooves and hops impatiently, snorting loudly.
“What’s it want?” Beth asks.
“It wants more,” I tell her, moving our hands to stroke the side of the animal’s neck, over it’s still-small framed shoulders. It’s in that awkward in-between stage where it’s the height of an adult, but lanky. “I’m glad you asked me to be the one to show you,” I say finally.
Beth turns in my arms, her stomach forcing her to stand a little further away than when she was back-to-my-front.
The spawn, trapped between us, kicks me.
My eyes go round in wonder.
Beth bites her lips to control her grin. “Give me your hand. The clean one,” she adds—and already, her eyes are shining and her smile wobbles with emotion. She’s been prone to this whenever one of the crew enjoys spawn-cooing time.
I’ve never had spawn-cooing though.
I was waiting for Beth to want me to.
Swallowing thickly, I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t cry,” I grumble—because if she starts to weep, I’m afraid I’ll catch Narwari dander in my eye or somesuch. It’s the damnedest thing; but I think I already have—my eyes feel suspiciously starry.
Sending me a far too-knowing smile, Beth gamely tries to suck back her tears.
Reverently, I lay my clean hand over the bared, hot skin of her stretched stomach.
Beth’s got her bottom lip caught gently in her teeth, and with her lips curled up like they are, she’s the most fetching thing I’ve ever seen.
The galaxy's smallest foot kicks me right in the middle of my hand.
I spread my fingers, and I can feel the spawn; I’m cupping it right through Beth’s belly, both of us wrapping this infant in layers of protection.
Cog-damn it—my eyes are suddenly stinging. Teveking pasture pollen. It’d give any man’s eyes trouble at a time like this.
Beth must be able to see my struggle because her hands come up to cup my face.
“Pollen,” I tell her quickly.
“Uh huh,” she says, her gaze shining as her lips purse. She looks like she’s struggling to suppress a sweet smile.
A sweet smile aimed at me.
I don
’t move. I don’t breathe—I don’t even blink. But her old lovebite on my wrist flares as if she’s just brushed her hot little tongue over it.
Beth pulls me down and pushes her lips to mine.
The Narwari’s teeth sink into my shoulder.
I growl into Beth’s mouth, a warning for the chit to quit. To my surprise—it’s Beth who responds, deepening our kiss and moaning a little breathlessly into my mouth.
She likes growling?
I can growl. I’ll growl all she wants.
We kiss the air out of each other, we turn animalistic—groping, writhing, and nipping until we’re pressed up as close as our bodies can touch. And all the while, on account of me ignoring her, the spoiled scumbrain foal chews up my back like a rodent left alone with a wheel of cheese.
I could move away—but Beth’s kissing along the inside of my clean wrist and I’m too afraid of breaking the spell. I’ll happily take a few Narwari scars if it means I have Beth like this in my arms.
“I want more,” Beth breathes, eyes opening to meet mine.
TEVEK YES! I’d roar my good fortune, but the Narwari’s nibbling her way across my back, distracting me from getting too excited.
“Ever rutted in a barn?” I growl to Beth, hand fisted in her mane.
“Nope,” she gasps against my mouth, “But I’m suddenly very interested in being rutted in a barn by you.”
CHAPTER 49—QOLT
QOLT
I’m gripping handfuls of her rump tightly to keep her from squirming off of my tongue. The edge of her skirt teases my nose whenever I slide my licks above her clit to taste her sweet slit.
“Qolt…” Beth moans my name into the Narwari blanket I’ve got her pinned on. Breslin’s got some sort of saddle rack setup jutting out of a wall in the tackroom of the barn, and the long stands meant to hold heavy leather saddles are just wide enough to offer Beth a comfy perch while I eat her out from behind.
She whimpers into her hands, her pleading at a fever pitch, doing a piss-poor job of muffling her ecstasy if I do crow so myself. Her slit squeezes the tip of my tongue hard, and she bumps her hips backwards, trying to rut herself on my face.