OUTCAST

by Cheryl Brooks

  “It isn’t that I don’t like men, Lynx,” she said after a bit. “I just want one I can trust. You wouldn’t think that was too much to ask, but apparently it is—for me, anyway.” Looking ahead, Bonnie could see her home just coming into view, and it had never looked so good. “Thank God we’re almost there,” she sighed. “I can’t remember ever being so tired.”

  The thought of having to make that walk to Nimbaza again was almost enough to make Bonnie want to lay down and die—though it was either that or let Lynx go to market by himself the next week. It would be in keeping with her usual luck if he simply sold everything, including her cart, and then took off the way Sylor had. But as bad as she was feeling, she concluded that it might be worth the risk.

  Lynx might have said he wouldn’t leave without telling her, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would stay forever. If he would just stay on another month or two, Bonnie thought she could make it on her own after that. The mines might not be hiring, but there were bound to be other people looking for help—some place that Lynx would be happier. Drummond must have known that Lynx wouldn’t like working for Bonnie—and while she might have been at the top of his list, the job at her farm surely hadn’t been the only one available when Lynx arrived—but perhaps he’d felt sorry for Bonnie, or thought that having additional help would make the avocados grow faster.

  After unloading what she’d bought at the market, Bonnie sent Lynx off to put the cart in the shed. Tossing him a bag of chocolate chips as an afterthought, she said offhandedly, “You never know when you might get a craving. Thanks for going with me today.”

  Lynx put the bag of candy in his pocket but didn’t say anything.

  “The correct response to that is to say ‘you’re welcome,’” Bonnie pointed out. “Try to remember that.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lynx said over his shoulder as he walked away with the cart.

  It wasn’t bad for a start, she thought. Now if he could only say it like he meant it.

  Lynx walked quickly back to the shed. What a nightmare of a day he’d had! The only good thing he had to show for it was the bag of candy in his pocket—and the prospect of working on Wilisan's speeder, of course. Of all the Zetithians who could have survived the war, the two he’d met up with had to have been some he actually knew! Men who’d known him the way he was before he was sold as a slave. They didn’t seem to have been changed a bit by being enslaved, even though they’d both been beaten within an inch of their lives—and more than once, too. No, they hadn’t been changed, at least, not the way he had been, and they both had wives and children to prove it. They were successful, too—had traveled the galaxy and had found a type of freedom that Lynx knew he would never possess.

  When he had first seen Cark—or Cat, as he was now called—he’d felt a surge of happiness beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life, which was increased exponentially by the added joy of seeing Leccarian again. But all too soon the reality began to sink in. Those two were everything he was not, as were brothers Trag and Tychar, who had also been members of his unit. Cat and Leo told him the brothers had been owned by a reptilian queen who had pampered them, and while they might not have been with a woman in twenty years, they’d subsequently found a Terran woman who loved one and took pity on the other.

  Lynx had listened to their stories, but when prompted to tell his own, he was reluctant to relate the story of his life as a slave to so many women. His talents as a lover would have been worth telling—but only if he still possessed those abilities. He was able to tell his old friends of his life since then—he even got them laughing when he told a few stories about the exploits of his fellow miners on Paemay—but didn’t want to see their reactions when he told them he no longer cared for women. It was an attitude in such direct opposition to that of other Zetithian males as to be unheard of. He wished with all his heart that it wasn’t so; that he could tell them of his new life with Bonnie—as her friend, if not her lover—but he wasn’t even her friend, and he would have had a great deal of difficulty finding the words to explain why.

  Cark—Lynx had trouble thinking of him as “Cat”— had seemed to sense his distress and had not pressed him. Even so, he’d been about to tell them everything when Cark's sons had come running up to meet the “uncle” they didn’t know they had. Such things were not to be discussed in front of children, and so Lynx had remained silent.

  “These are Larsanken, Moriconthan, and Curlanikund,” Cat said, introducing his sons one by one. “They are named after some of my ancestors, but Jacinth has a problem with the length of our Zetithian names and calls them Larry, Moe, and Curly.” Then he added with a droll expression: “I will explain the origin of those names later.”

  “And I have two sons and a daughter,” Leo reported proudly. “But they are babies still and are back at our ship with their mother.”

  Lynx stared at the boys in wonder. Cark had not only fathered children, but they all appeared to be pure Zetithian! He took each of their hands in his own and gazed wistfully into their softly glowing eyes—eyes that he had longed to see in a child for so long…

  If only Lynx had met Bonnie long ago, and if only he had been capable of fathering children, things might have turned out as well for him. Bonnie was different from the other women he had known; he knew that, and there were times when he wished he could allow himself to have normal feelings toward her. Without the demons of his past to haunt him, he would have been her lover long before this—perhaps even from the very beginning. He knew deep down that she wouldn’t have abused him or taunted him the way the others had; she would have loved him—just as surely as Cat and Leo's wives loved their husbands—not like those other women who had quite literally used him up.

  Lover, they’d called him. Lover Boy, Slave Boy, or just Boy—or Slave, when they were angry with him. Anything but his own name. In fact, not one of them had ever even asked him what his name really was. Not that it mattered. He told himself it would have been different if he’d actually loved any of them, but he hadn’t. He didn’t even know how.

  A quiet but persistent voice inside his head reminded him that Bonnie had asked him his name—even though she’d been bleeding and in pain at the time—and he felt a pang of regret for the way he’d treated her. She’d been very kind to him; he knew that, and he also knew that she was right; it wasn’t her fault. None of it was.

  It was difficult to even look at her, because he couldn’t deny the fact that she was beautiful. Her angelic face, the soft curves of her body, added to her kind nature, should have made him want her. There was a time— albeit a brief one—when he would have admired such a woman and knowing the level of pleasure he could give her would have emboldened him to act; to entice her into his arms and delight in her reaction to him. He would have loved her and given her such joy.

  But the fact that he couldn’t do any of those things angered him. If only he had never scented her desire! He could have been nicer to her if only she hadn’t smelled like that. Her scent was tantalizing but tormenting at the same time. One whiff of her should have sent him into full arousal, but it only reminded him of things he’d rather forget. He didn’t intend to seem ungrateful, but he knew that in thanking her, he might lead her to think he felt differently toward her, and he didn’t want that to happen. All he could do to thank her for her kindness was to do the best job for her that he possibly could.

  He couldn’t even risk smiling at her. She had caught the one smile he’d ever sent her way. “No more Mr. Nice Guy,” she’d said. Hearing that, Lynx couldn’t help but smile; Bonnie didn’t have a mean bone in her body. He would do his best not to give her any other reason to complain about him and vowed to work harder. As he saw it, it was all he could do.

  She said she only wanted conversation with him. He didn’t believe it, though he almost wished he could. If he’d been one of those men who could rattle on for hours about nothing of importance, he could have at least kept her satisfied in that respect, but he was
n’t. He couldn’t lie, either—couldn’t even begin to come up with a less sensitive excuse for his behavior—and since he had no intention of telling her the real story, he had decided that the less he said to her the better. He almost wished he could have lied, because it might have made things easier for him—and for her.

  Chapter 9

  OVER THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, BONNIE SPENT MORE TIME with her feet up than a Davordian girl in a Paemayan brothel, but she certainly wasn’t having any fun. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep worth a darn, and picking vegetables was completely out of the question. Kipper moped around, looking up at her with big, sad eyes, wondering what was wrong with her. She wished she could have had Tisana around to talk to her pet and explain that she would get back to normal eventually, but Jack had gone off on another trading run, taking Tisana with her. Then one day, Shaulla dropped and life was good, except Bonnie now had to pee constantly, and her feet swelled up even more.

  Lynx might not have liked it, but except for the cooking, he was now doing everything—and Bonnie cheated a bit on that, too. Breakfast was usually eggs and toast, but for the other meals she fixed a pot of vegetable soup. Each time they ate some of it, she would add more water and vegetables to it and just let it keep on cooking. Lynx never complained, and though Bonnie knew he had to be getting sick of it, quite honestly, she didn’t care.

  Lynx had the speeder up and running within two days of getting the parts, and he’d taken the next day to work on Wilisan's speeder, with equal success. Bonnie was impressed, and said so, but for all the good it did, she might have been complimenting one of Mobray's cows on her excellent cheese. What it would take to get through to him was beyond her.

  Then one day, Bonnie decided to play dirty and introduced him to cookie dough.

  Even after having traveled across the galaxy to a new world, Bonnie still considered chocolate chip cookie dough to be one of the ultimate taste sensations in the universe— right up there with turkey gravy on Thanksgiving— especially when she made it with dark brown sugar. Bonnie wasn’t sure which one evoked a more orgasmic response, but since there were no turkeys on Terra Minor—something that she considered to be a serious oversight—she was left with cookie dough.

  It might have been that burst of energy one gets at some point just prior to delivery, but though her back was killing her, Bonnie was feeling downright industrious one day. She’d been mopping floors and was in the process of cleaning the kitchen sink when she noticed Lynx out working in the garden. Since the inconsiderate wretch was doing it without a shirt, she felt that a bit of retaliation was in order. Gathering up her own milled flour and fresh eggs, Mobray's excellent butter, and Jack's out-of-this-world chocolate chips, she whipped up the fluffiest, creamiest dough her culinary skills could produce. Then she went out on the porch and yelled for Lynx.

  Apparently not wishing to entice her into an odoriferous state of desire, she noted that the little snit put his shirt back on before coming over.

  “Hey, would do me a favor and taste this?” she asked, holding out a spoonful. “I want to know what you think.”

  Warily, he reached out for the spoon, but Bonnie pulled it back. “Uh-uh,” she said with an evil shake of her head. “Just take a bite.”

  Backing off, he said, “I will not.”

  “Oh, yes you will,” she said roundly, “because if you don’t, I’ll never fix another meal for you again! You’ll have to pick your own vegetables out of the garden and cook them yourself!”

  This wasn’t much of a threat—and she never would have followed through with it anyway—but crossing his arms belligerently, Lynx did his best to top it with one of his own.

  “I will not help you give birth to your child if you do not feed me.”

  Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh. “Women have been having babies for millions of years, Lynx. I wouldn’t be the first to go it alone. Besides, I can always call one of the neighbors. Zuannis or Salan would come for moral support, if nothing else.” Bonnie knew this wasn’t entirely true, for while Zuannis had given birth to several children, the mere thought of being present while someone else was in labor made her feel faint. She’d offered her husband's help instead, but Joachen hadn’t seemed any more excited at the prospect than Lynx was. Hatul, however, had overheard the conversation while he was fingering the vegetables and had been quick to offer his assistance. Bonnie had hastily declined, though upon further reflection decided that his sucker-tipped fingers might be useful when it came to pulling a reluctant infant out into the world.

  Not backing down one bit, Lynx just stood there, glaring at her.

  “Oh, come on, Lynx!” she cajoled. “It won’t kill you, and I don’t care what religion you belong to, tasting this won’t send you to hell.”

  Still wary, he asked, “What is it?” Ordinarily, Lynx wouldn’t have asked that question, but something in her manner warned him that she was trying to trick him in some way.

  “Not gonna tell ya,” Bonnie taunted him. “You have to guess. Come on, open your mouth—close your eyes if you have to—but just taste it.”

  Lynx was standing a step down from her on the side of the porch, and as Bonnie had set the bowl down on the railing before she poked a spoonful in his mouth, she had a hand free when he tried to bolt. Catching him by the front of his shirt, she said, “Oh, no you don’t! You aren’t running off this time! Now, you just chew that up and swallow it—slowly!—and look at me while you do it; I want to see your reaction.”

  Bonnie watched as Lynx's expression changed from one of stubborn denial to an unabashed display of pleasure. Having been caught completely unawares by her ploy—his first thought had been that it was going to taste horrible—it struck him with as much impact as she’d hoped it would. Knowing how the creamy butter was melting on his tongue as the sugar, vanilla, and salt sent his taste buds into overdrive, Bonnie's mind reeled for a moment; if only she could elicit such a response from him with a kiss or the touch of her hand! As he bit down on the chips and the chocolate added its own magic, she fought the urge to glance down at his groin and see if the effect was as profound as it appeared.

  “Good?” she inquired curiously, though the look on his face was proof enough.

  Lynx nodded, blinking slowly. “It is what the cookies are made from.”

  “Good guess,” she said. “Now, tell me, Lynx, isn’t that the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your life?”

  Lynx couldn’t lie. “I believe it is,” he replied.

  “And it didn’t kill you to eat it in front of me, did it?”

  “No,” he admitted. “It did not.”

  “You know, Lynx, food is one of those things that should be shared,” Bonnie said gently. “Please, tell me why you can’t sit down at the table with me.” When he hesitated she almost poked another spoonful in his mouth but instead added, “I promise, I won’t laugh.”

  Lynx didn’t know why he spoke, perhaps it was her assurance that she wouldn’t laugh, but whatever the reason, to her surprise, he answered her question. “I was the slave of other slaves,” he said, “and was starved when I did not please them.” Bonnie could see the pain and humiliation he must have felt sweep across his features. This was more difficult for him than she would ever have imagined. “And when they finally let me eat, I had to eat as quickly as I could.” He paused as a tremor shook him. “I can still hear their laughter.”

  So that was why he had to carry his food off to eat it, she thought, the way a stray dog would do when it knows it's about to be kicked for stealing scraps. Bonnie wondered if Lynx had been abused in that way, but also knew that abuse wasn’t always physical. The humiliation had undoubtedly hurt him far more than the starvation ever had.

  “I won’t laugh,” she promised. “And Lynx, I know you don’t like being around me, but could you please try—at least have dinner with me once in a while?”

  She’d lost him, though. Having partially spilled his guts, he clammed up again. She could almost s
ee the walls going back up around him.

  “I’ll always keep you well-fed!” she said desperately. “Don’t ever believe me when I say I won’t! It's nothing more than an idle threat—to be honest, I really have no hold over you at all! You could leave here right now, and Drummond would find you another job—I’m sure there's a long list of others who could use your help— and it's good help, Lynx!” she said earnestly. “I’m paying you all I can, and it's still not enough.” She felt tears filling her eyes. “You’ve helped me in so many ways. I’d like to return the favor, but all I can do is pay you and feed you—you won’t live in the house, and that's okay, not many hired hands do, but I want to talk to you, or something—anything! Like I said before, it's lonely out here! I see my friends now and then, but it isn’t the same as talking to someone you actually see every day. Don’t you ever get lonely? Don’t you sometimes wish all you had to do was reach out and know that someone would be there for you?”

  Bonnie knew what his reply would be even before she asked that, but it still hurt.

  It hurt him, as well. Lynx could see the pain he was inflicting, but if he relented, he knew he would have to spend more time close to her, knowing she wanted something from him that he was unable to give. “I prefer to be alone,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie, either. Being alone was much easier for him.

  “Is that something else you never had, like a decent meal?”

  Nodding, he replied, “Yes. I find that solitude is even more important than getting enough to eat.”

  “Well,” she said, doing her best to bow to the inevitable, “if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” With a heavy sigh, she picked up the bowl of cookie dough and turned to go back inside, half intending to eat every last bit of it, when her water chose that moment to break, completely ruining her exit.