by Dixon, Ruby
When She Purrs
A Risdaverse Romance
Ruby Dixon
Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Dixon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Kati Wilde
Cover Photo: Deposit Photos
Edits: Aquila Editing
Created with Vellum
For Kim Aziz, who is unfailingly generous with her time. Thank you so much for all that you do!
Contents
When She Purrs
A note for sensitive readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Epilogue
Epilogue II
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Other Risdaverse Reads
When She Purrs
Life on a farm planet at the edge of the universe can be dangerous for a human woman alone.
That’s why I need a husband. ANY husband.
Unfortunately, all the men I approach keep running off. So I hire a bounty hunter to kidnap me someone capable and strong, someone who will scare off the creeps that are trying to move in on my territory.
It’ll be a marriage of convenience only.
I should have been a little more specific about who I wanted, though…because the intimidating and fierce praxiian male that the bounty hunter brings to me? The one with feline features, big arms and an even bigger…uh, farm?
He’s the problem I was hoping a new husband would scare off. What am I supposed to do now?
(Don’t ask him, because all of his suggestions are completely and utterly filthy and have nothing to do with a marriage of convenience.)
A note for sensitive readers
Hi guys,
Just a heads up that if you are sensitive to certain topics, be warned that this particular story features two characters who suffered through enslavement.
There are mentions of past abuse and some triggering thoughts.
There are no on-page abusive situations, though there are a few violent ones (as the hero is an ex-gladiator).
It will end happily (of course!) but I wanted to give a warning in advance, in case you need to pass this one on by. <3
— Ruby
1
KIM
Risda III has absolutely got to get a second restaurant, I decide as I take a seat at one of two tiny tables in the cantina. Oh sure, there’s a bar, but you can only stand at the bar if you’re buying a drink, and everything they serve here is far too strong for my human candy-ass. I learned that the hard way the first night I arrived.
Water it is.
I set my datapad down on the table and look around, just in case I’ve missed my contact. So far, the cantina’s empty, but it’s also early in the morning. There’s an alien man at the bar, but the small area reserved for the dining area is empty except for me. The big szzt working in the kitchen comes and thumps a plate of fried rekesh leaves onto my table and refills my water glass, spilling a small puddle onto the table itself.
“Thank you,” I say meekly, taking a plas-film napkin and soaking up the spill when the surly alien stomps away. Service with a smile, I think to myself. Always service with a smile for humans. We’re about as popular here as an outbreak of bedbugs. I nibble on one of the fried leaves and swipe on my e-reader, reading over my most recent chapter. Human language book files are scarce and traded amongst a few of us human “colonists,” and I ran out of books to read a few weeks after landing on Risda. After hearing some of my fellow colonists complain, I decided to take matters into my own hands and started writing stories for the other girls. I post them to a private forum, chapter by chapter, and others read along and comment. It’s a lot of fun and makes me feel connected to my fellow colonists even when we’re a jillion miles apart, thanks to the spread of farms. It helps keep me occupied, too, on the long, quiet nights when there’s nothing to watch but alien broadcasts talking about things I don’t understand. It helps me feel connected to my past. To my people.
And because I’m a particularly neurotic sort, I’m re-reading today’s chapter for the seventh time before I post it later. Just in case there’s typos. I eat fried leaves as I proofread while I wait for my contact to arrive.
“You the one they call…Cheem?”
I glance up. I’ve been so engrossed in my love story of a plucky lady-in-waiting and a kilted highlander that I wasn’t paying attention to the door. I flush with embarrassment because I’ve apparently been SO engrossed that I’ve also eaten all my leaves, my water glass is empty, and the person standing across from my table has probably been there for at least a minute or two. Awkward. “Hi, I’m…what did you call me?”
The hooded figure glances down at the datapad held in a three-fingered blue hand. “Cheem?”
I guess they’re addressing me. “Kim?”
“It says here it’s Cheem. In human language, this letter is pronounced with a chuh, yes?” I can’t see into the hood, but I can practically feel the person glaring at me.
“Actually, no. A K is pronounced…well, just like that.”
“Kay-eem?”
I wince. “Just Kim.”
The figure huffs and drops into the seat across from me, datapad thunking onto the table. “Your human language is ridiculous.”
“Mostly just English,” I say brightly. “Are you Bethiah?”
The hood goes back, revealing an alien woman. Oh. From the tone of the voice, I’d thought perhaps I was dealing with a young man, but no, it’s a woman. She’s about my age, maybe older. Her face
is angular, cheekbones pronounced, and she reminds me of one of the Tolkien elves…if they were bright blue and seven feet tall. Her black hair is pulled back in tight braids and she has shiny, capped horns and tattoos covering just about every inch of exposed skin from the jaw down. Under her cloak, I catch a hint of armor and what look to be several weapons strapped to her body. This woman means business.
“I am absolutely Bethiah,” the alien woman drawls as she slides a leg over the chair and sits on it. “Pronounced exactly how it’s spelled.”
I lick my lips, wondering if this is the time to point out that I can’t read her language and have no clue how it’s spelled. Her name’s been given to me by a friend, who pronounced it Beth-eye-uh. I thought it was pretty. “I see. And are you a…” I glance around at the empty cantina. “Person who takes on dubious jobs?”
“Kef, they said you humans were adorably idiotic, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m a bounty hunter, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Yes. Fabulous.” I slide my datapad to “off” so she can’t see the particularly lurid scene I’m reading over and place the device in my lap. “I’m in need of your services.”
“Untrackable credits,” Bethiah drawls. “Paid upfront.” She holds a large, three-fingered hand out, and there’s even a tattoo on her callused blue palm.
Oh. “Of course.” I’d been told this was the situation and I’d come prepared. I slide the small pouch across the table, and the woman’s long-fingered hand immediately snatches it up. She doesn’t open the pouch, just bounces it in her hand as if weighing it, and then grunts.
“Who do you need me to hunt down?” Bethiah asks, pocketing my money.
“A man.”
Her eyes narrow. “Which man?”
I smile brightly. Now we’re getting to the good stuff. “Oh, I’m not all that picky. Just a single man will do. He does need to be unmarried, though.” I think for a moment. “Preferably not repulsed by humans.”
Bethiah gives me a look. It’s a look that implies that she thinks I’m mentally impaired. “You do realize I’m a bounty hunter? Not a matchmaker?”
“Oh, I know.” I lean in close, whispering. “I’m not entirely sure this man will be willing.”
Her lips twitch.
“Perhaps you should explain a bit more,” Bethiah says, gesturing at me. “As in, start at the very beginning and go from there.” The surly szzt worker walks past and she raises her hand and gestures at the empty, greasy basket in front of me. “We need more of these. She’s paying.”
“I am?”
“You are.” Bethiah taps the table. “Now. Should this man be alive or dead?”
I…have to specify? “Um, alive? He’s no good to me dead.”
“So you need a kidnapping more than a killing?” Bethiah pulls out a datapad and begins to type. “Go on.”
I’m growing a little alarmed. When I heard I needed to talk to Bethiah, I assumed she had connections I was unaware of. I didn’t think she’d be a bounty hunter. I didn’t think I’d have to specify that I needed my particular man alive. I’m starting to sweat a little. What if I hadn’t specified? What if there’s something else I need to specify that I forget? Oh god. The enormity of the process is starting to terrify me. “This is my first time to hire a bounty hunter,” I admit.
“No keffing way,” Bethiah says dryly. “Okay, so you need a male. Any particular species in mind?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know all the species, truly.” I try to think of all the races I’ve seen. Orange-skinned. Blue-skinned. Frog-skinned. The catlike praxiians. The tiny bird-whistling creatures that stole me from Earth a few years ago. “Just something that seems…nice.”
“Nice…” Bethiah says flatly. “What exactly am I hunting this man for?”
I bite my lip and then lean forward. “So I can marry him.”
Bethiah’s pointy chin lifts ever so slightly in a half-nod. “I see. You want to marry him but you don’t care what species he is? Does he need a human-compatible penis?”
I swallow hard, trying not to blush. “Um, it doesn’t matter.”
She makes a disbelieving face but keeps typing. “Working penis at all?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s going to be a marriage of convenience.”
“It doesn’t sound very convenient for your mate if he doesn’t get to kef his new wife.”
Now she’s making me nervous. This plan sounded so good when I worked it out in my head. Haven’t quickie marriages to aliens worked out well for some of the neighboring farms? I heard that Leilani married some big hulking mesakkah, and Piper married an ugly prisoner. Both of them have reported no more incidents on their farms, too. I need that safety and reassurance. “He won’t want to sleep with me. I’m human.”
Bethiah leans in. “My little friend, I’ve been around this galaxy for a while. I know what males do with humans, and they aren’t popular for their conversational skills, if you follow me.”
2
KIM
Now I really am blushing. “I know. It’s just that…that doesn’t apply to me.”
“Why doesn’t it?”
“I’m older.”
She eyes me. “How much older?”
“Most of the girls that have been taken are in their early twenties. I just turned thirty-six.”
“You look the same.”
“Well aren’t you sweet.” I chuckle, preening a little at that comment. While it’s true that I do look young for my age, any medical scan will quickly show the truth of the matter. “It’s not that old. It’s just that when someone hears my age, they immediately want to do a fertility scan, and according to your scanners, thirty-six is considered ‘geriatric’ for a human slave. Ex-slave,” I correct quickly. It still feels weird to be considered “freed” even after all this time. “I’m still of a child-bearing age but all the other women here are much younger and they have better land, so I get passed over quite a bit.”
“Better…land,” Bethiah echoes, curious.
“Yes. We were all granted land by Lord va’Rin. It was assigned via pools and it seems that my particular plot is very arid and rocky compared to the fertile fields of my neighbors.” I’m not bitter about it. I like my particular plot, high up on a hill, because I can see for miles and miles around. I love the flowers I grow, their bright pink and yellow blooms that look so cheery…even if they’re problematic. I grimace. “Unfortunately it’s only good for a certain type of crop.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Just a particular herb,” I say, waving a hand as the surly waiter comes by and drops another basket of fried leaves on our table. “Nothing that makes a lot of money.” My cute, cheery little flowers are the alien equivalent of catnip for a race called praxiians, and it’s apparently some sort of sex drug. The moment I found that out, I was rather horrified. The only thing I can sell is a Spanish fly equivalent that works best on the fearsome, catlike praxiians?
It’s definitely a pickle.
It’s also been part of the problems I’m having. One of my neighbors is praxiian, and he’s a rather terrifying sort. Most praxiians are large, but this one is particularly huge. He snarls and hisses every time I see him. I’ve caught him lurking on my land, as if assessing it for his own acquirement. It makes me nervous, because I’ve heard horror stories of the aggressive praxiians attacking human females. I’ve also heard of women turning up dead, their lands stolen by neighbors. I’m pretty sure he’s threatening me, because I’ve found a dead animal on my doorstep more than once, the throat ripped out.
And last week? I came home to find that the praxiian had been to my house and, ahem, jerked off all over my door.
That was when I knew it was time for action. If I’m going to be safe, I need to get married—or mated, though the term is interchangeable to these aliens - and secure myself a husband. If it looks like I have a male protector and I’m married, no one can k
ill me to try and steal my land. It would be better if I got pregnant to ensure things, but I’ve had enough alien sex to know that I vastly prefer the thought of a platonic marriage.
“I need a marriage in name only,” I tell Bethiah. “I truly don’t care what my man looks like or how old he is, as long as he’s kind and strong and can help me protect my place in this world.”
The bounty hunter nods slowly. “I think I get it. So I find a likely candidate for you…and then what? Drug him and kidnap him? How do you envision this playing out?” Her eyes light up. “Do you care if I maim him a little?”
I’m slightly terrified by the excitement that flashes in her eyes. “Well I can’t imagine that any man will look kindly upon me if you maim him right before I marry him.”
“But you’re kidnapping him and forcing him to marry you. Why does it matter if he’s roughed up a little?”