by Dixon, Ruby
I stare at it for a long, awful minute, then frantically tap buttons, trying to get the datapad to dictate the message back to me. I only know what a few buttons do on the piece of alien technology, but eventually I’m able to get it to respond, and it starts reading the message in a clinical, detached voice.
<<
Tonight?
A nervous flutter sets up shop in my belly. Oh god. Tonight is too soon! I’m not ready! I look around my small house, and even though I’ve been cleaning for days, it doesn’t feel like I’m prepared. Where am I going to keep a guest? What will I serve him?
Oh heck…what am I going to wear?
I read the message over one more time just to make sure I have it correct—that Bethiah really is coming by tonight—and then I set into a whirlwind of activity. I clean. I mop. I scrub. I change the sheets and hang a fresh towel in the bathroom. The big bouquet of flowers I keep on the table is wilting, so I toss them into the compost pile and pluck fresh blooms to brighten the small house up. When the kitchen area is scrubbed and the noodle casserole put away since I’m far too nervous to eat, I pick through my clothes.
I know this poor man isn’t going to be here willingly, but I hope if I’m an appealing enough host, he decides to stay. I dig through tunic after tunic, and while none of them are particularly low-cut or sexy, I pick out one that shows my figure off. I fuss with my shoulder-length hair for a bit and impulsively pull it up into two pigtails, just like Baby Spice. After all, it made her look younger, didn’t it? I pick through the settings on a cosmetic machine, but all of them are for non-human skin. Something tells me that eye-shadows in various shades of blue and vibrant purple probably look great on someone like Bethiah, but not for me. I do dye my lashes a dark black, though, and gloss my lips with a concoction a neighbor made that adds just a hint of pink to human lips.
I stare at my reflection, nervous. Do I look like I’m thirty-six to alien eyes? Twenty-six? Twenty-nine? My gaze strays to my pigtails. They look incredibly stupid, but maybe it’s enough to fool an alien into thinking I’m young and nubile and desirable.
“Fingers crossed,” I whisper to my reflection, and then I go into my small living area to wait.
6
KIM
As I sit in my now-sparkling house, waiting for my kidnapped husband-to-be to be delivered, I start to get nervous.
Perhaps I should have given Bethiah a few more guidelines? Should I have specified that my husband will need to be into farming? That he’ll need to stay on Risda III? That I don’t want to share with several wives if he’s from one of the cultures where polygamy is encouraged? What if…what if he’s diseased? What if he doesn’t like flowers?
What if he doesn’t like humans?
My mouth goes dry.
What if he doesn’t like abstinence?
Like all humans, I was kidnapped for a very specific reason—to serve as a bed slave. And while my old master owned enough slaves that I didn’t have to visit his bed very often, I still found it utterly distasteful. I cried a lot, until I realized he liked my tears, and then I learned not to have any reaction at all. That got me sold off and led to my eventual freedom here on Risda. If I have to have more unpleasant alien sex to get by, I suppose I can, but I prefer not to. What if she can’t find someone nice for me? What if her version of nice is very different than mine?
Perhaps…perhaps I should call this off. Maybe I can message Bethiah and tell her I’ve changed my mind. That this isn’t safe, just like she cautioned me, and I’ve re-thought things through—
There’s a knock at the door.
My heart jumps into my throat.
It’s too late—she’s here with my new mate.
I force myself to slowly get to my feet. I smooth my clothing. Run a hand over my stupid, stupid hair. Take three deep breaths to compose myself. Then, I walk to the door and—
I hesitate.
This is going to change my life again. Can I do this? Do I have a choice?
I don’t. Not if I want to keep my toehold on this new life. Not if I want to stay free. Sucking in a deep breath, I fling the door open to confront my destiny.
Destiny isn’t there.
Neither is Bethiah. There’s a large figure standing on my doorstep, completely shrouded in a gray, shapeless wrap that covers him from head to toe, only the tips of his boots sticking out. There’s a gigantic bow stuck atop the man’s head.
She’s gift-wrapped him for me.
Horrified laughter bubbles up in my throat. The bounty hunter has an odd sense of humor.
The big “bag” on my porch twitches, and I realize the man’s awake and probably very, very confused. I grab his arm and haul him inside, and the man shuffles in with me, taking slow, careful steps. He’s silent, so probably gagged. It doesn’t look like he’s fighting, though, which I guess is a good thing. If he was more violent and flailing, I’d be worried. This man seems calm, as if he’s just waiting for me to unwrap him.
I take a deep breath. Okay. I can do this. I can. “Let’s sit you down,” I manage, and I sound like I’m wheezing. Hyperventilating, I realize. I take several more deep breaths as I rush to pull a chair forward and knock it behind the shroud-covered man’s legs. He immediately thumps down into the chair with a heavy THUD and something moves under the shroud. A tail.
That’s okay, I tell myself. Most of the aliens have tails. It’s okay. It just means he’s not human. Which…I could have guessed that anyhow. This alien is bigger than most humans. Even seated, he and I are practically eye to eye. Even if we were of a height, his bulk is something else entirely. He’s broader than I could have imagined, and for a brief, silly moment, I think Bethiah’s gotten me a great big, chubby man. I like the thought. A nice, big, soft alien with a gentle heart.
Please, oh please, I think. Be nice. Be soft.
I pull the bow off his head, and notice that the shroud on his face is a sack, almost like a pillowcase. He twitches when my fingers move to the edge of it, and I pull it off before I can lose my nerve.
The sight that greets me is terrifying.
It’s an alien all right, one with big, triangular ears and gray facial tufts. He’s got thick gray hair that looks like a lion’s mane and tufts down over his neck in a thick down. His eyes are catlike and while his face isn’t quite a muzzle, it’s definitely not human. He bares teeth that are sharp and pointed and looks around, dizzy.
This is a nightmare.
This is my praxiian neighbor. The one that’s been harassing me.
With a choked scream, I grab the pillowcase and throw it back over his head again. I back up several steps, heart pounding, and stare at the monstrous, shrouded alien in the chair.
He’s not soft.
I’ve seen him from a distance before. All that bulk? That’s muscle. The tail twitching under the shroud is long and fluffy and yet somehow he manages to be menacing despite it. Those shoulders are powerful enough to lift a car—and squash a human in no time flat. And he’s here to marry me.
I put my hands to my pigtails, trying to process this utter disaster. I asked for a nice friendly man to be kidnapped to be my husband…and instead I got the very man I was trying to avoid.
I want a damn refund.
7
NASSAKTH
Right away, I know I have a problem.
It was bad enough approaching Kim’s farm trussed up in the wraps the bounty hunter insisted upon. Kim’s house is surrounded by leagues and leagues of noli fern, a blooming plant which is an aphrodisiac to only one particular race—mine. It is endurable but pleasant as long as the plants are healthy and strong, but when they die, they shed pollen and it drives my people’s already robust libido into overdrive.
Inside Kim’s house? I smell pollen. I smell pollen everywhere, and when she rips off the head covering, I catch a gli
mpse of the colorful noli flowers. My body, already tense with excitement, is aching with arousal a moment later. My cock hardens, pushing against the front of my tight trou, and I let out a low rumble of frustration when she slaps the hood back on my head.
I can hear her panting, can smell her nervousness.
“W-what are you doing here?” she cries. “Where’s the other man?”
“What other man?” She is expecting someone else? The primal praxiian side of me flares with jealousy. I will challenge him. I will challenge him and rip his throat out if he thinks he gets Kim to himself—
“The man that was supposed to be coming here tonight,” Kim says, panicked. “My…friend was supposed to be dropping him off!”
I calm when I realize she means me. She just didn’t realize that the bounty hunter—Bethiah—would be bringing me specifically. Excellent. I loll my head, pretending to be dazed. “Where am I?”
“Um. Um.” I can practically feel her panic. “You’re in my kitchen. Just…stay calm. I’m sure this is all a mistake.”
“Someone hit me over the head,” I add. “Why did they bring me here? What is this all about?” My ears twitch under the hood, and I try to shake it off. “Can you get this thing off of me?”
“Sorry,” she yelps, and in the next moment, the hood rips off. My hands are still tied behind my back—loosely, since I was a volunteer—and my body swaddled in fabric. Once the hood comes off, I blink exaggeratedly and try to focus on Kim.
Her face is pale and utterly frantic. Her strange head-fur is tied up in two knots atop her head, and it almost looks like ears. Perhaps this is a courting ritual of her people and she wears it to entice a mate. I study her appreciatively, at her solid, strong body as she paces.
“This is a mistake,” she says, walking back and forth in the small living area of her house.
“What is?”
“You—you’re here because I’m supposed to get a husband—”
Surely it cannot be this easy? “I accept.”
Kim freezes in place, a look of horror on her face. “You what?”
Uh oh. “What?” I echo, and blink slowly again as if I am dazed. All right, I must not seem too eager just yet. It will make her suspicious.
Her shoulders relax. She crosses her arms over her chest. “This is a mistake,” she says again.
My pride is wounded. Is it truly that horrifying to have me show up as a mate? Isn’t this what she wanted? I can be kind, I remind myself. I can be what she needs. I twist against the bonds in my arms. “Can you free me?”
“Oh, of course.” She hurries over to my side, and instead of unwrapping me, she heads to her kitchen. She returns a moment later and helps me untangle my bound hands from the body-wrap…and then promptly snaps a pair of stun-cuffs around my wrists.
I jerk in surprise. The little human worked the cord of the stun-cuffs through the rungs of the chair. It’s a brave and ballsy move…and utterly useless, because I can splinter this tiny, pathetic chair with a mere stretch of my arms.
But…I’m proud of her. She’s clearly terrified, but she’s not backing down. Good. It makes me want her even more, and I start purring, my tail flicking back and forth.
Kim backs away from me with a cautious look. “I’m sorry to do that.”
“Do what you must to feel safe,” I say, fascinated with the way she moves. The noli flowers are really getting to me, and I take in a deep breath, floating on a sea of arousal. “So you will not free me?”
“I can’t.” She wrings her hands. “Oh, this is such a mess. I knew I should have clarified things with Bethiah, and now you know where I live and—”
“I already knew where you lived,” I point out, purring.
“Of course you did.” Her temper flares. “You…you violated my door.”
Violated? I marked it. I declared her my territory. Warned any other praxiian in the area that she is mine. But just thinking about marking my territory makes my cock ache even more, and I shift uncomfortably in the small chair.
“Are you uncomfortable?” She bites her lip and hurries forward, studying me. “I can’t free you, but can I get you anything? Until I decide what to do with you?”
I twist in the annoying wraps. “Hot. Get these off me.”
“Right. Sure.” She pulls the wraps free and gathers them in her arms. The moment she does, her hand brushes over my arm and my hips arch of their own accord.
Kim goes still, staring at my lap.
I look down. My cock is explicitly outlined against my trou, the fabric so tight that even the mushroom-shaped head is detailed as it rests against my thigh. I’m fully engorged, and there’s a wet spot on the fabric where my seed has leaked.
And Kim just stares. And stares.
I can feel myself getting harder under her scrutiny. My purring intensifies. “What are you going to do with me, little human?” I ask, my voice husky. The way she’s staring at my cock isn’t horror. It’s something else, something very good.
Curiosity. Astonishment. Shock. I think of my mating partners in the past, how pleased they were with me. Perhaps now Kim is re-thinking that this is a mistake. Now that she has seen everything I can give her, perhaps she has decided that Bethiah made a good choice after all. I arch my hips again, pumping at the air, the flowers making this seem like a really, really good idea.
She blinks. Twice. Then, abruptly, she speeds away, crossing the room. “I have to talk to Bethiah. This is such a mistake.”
I sigh with disappointment. Now I’m even more uncomfortable than before.
8
KIM
This is turning into a big, big problem. Really big. The size of my lower arm big. I try not to stare at his crotch too much. It’s just…big.
I need to talk to Bethiah. To tell her that she sent me a big horny neighbor instead of a cuddly husband. This isn’t how my plan was supposed to work. I try to call the contact number I have for the bounty hunter, but there’s no answer. I call again. And again. Still nothing. I get the sinking feeling that she’s done with me now that she’s delivered on her job. Except…she’s done it all wrong.
This is a disaster. I look over at the praxiian, and he’s watching me with hooded eyes, that enormous cock pressed against his pants. The damn thing’s so big it needs its own zip code and I can’t stop staring at it.
I mean, really now. Something that big is just obscene. Why on earth is he hard? Does he like being tied up? Or is he just hard because he’s my perverted neighbor and he finally made his way into my living room? Or are praxiians just perverts entirely and this is just how he is?
Either way, it’s very difficult to concentrate when something like that is staring me in the face. Literally.
“You can’t stay here,” I finally say when our eyes meet, because I feel like I have to say something.
“Then free me.” He jerks at the stun-cuffs.
“What? No! I can’t do that.”
He sighs. “I will not hurt you.”
“No, you just want to bang me and steal my land! You can’t hide what your intentions are. You sure can’t hide that.” I gesture at his trouser-monster.
“It will go down if you stop looking at it.” He pauses and then mutters, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I laugh hysterically. “Maybe?!”
He just shrugs and gives me a penetrating look. “Why am I here, Kim? Why did a kidnapper bring me to you?”
Wait, how does he know my name? I sputter. Has he been spying on me even more than I thought? “That’s—that’s not important!”
“What are you going to do with me?” His hips jerk again.
“Not that!” I can feel my face heat.
“Are you going to turn me over to the authorities?” He eyes me with a catlike gaze. “Because if you do, I will tell them you kidnapped me.”
I gasp in outrage and storm from the room. I shut the door to my bedroom and lean against it, panting. What the hell am I supposed to do now? He’
s right—if I take him to the authorities, they’ll know what I was up to. Bethiah won’t answer my calls, and I can’t just let him go. He knows where I live, seeing as how he lives in the next valley over.
Oh my god.
Am I going to have to get rid of him? I press my hands to my temples, trying to think. My thoughts are so frantic that it’s impossible. Am I going to have to murder just to shut him up? This is a nightmare.
I try to call Bethiah again.
And again. Still nothing.
This is pure disaster. It’s too quiet in my living area, and I press my ear to the door, trying to hear my “guest.” He’s silent, so I open the door a crack.
He’s still in the chair, arms cuffed behind him, and his tail flicks at the sight of me. “Why are you kidnapping people?”
“Me?” I sputter. “I’m not! Don’t be ridiculous.”
He jerks at the cuffs. “Then let me go.”
“No.” I study his big body. In addition to his gargantuan junk, he’s got huge thighs and enormous muscular arms. This is the absolute opposite of safe, and I’m not sure what Bethiah was thinking. “I’m afraid I might have to kill you.”
He stiffens for a moment, and then a soft, wheezing sound escapes him, almost like a kittenish sneeze. It takes me a moment to realize that this is the praxiian version of laughing. He’s laughing at me.
Well now I really want to kill him. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“You can’t kill me. You can’t even look me in the eye right now. You keep staring at my cock.”
“That’s because it’s staring right back!”
He just laughs harder. “So now you want to kill me? What, so I don’t tell on you? Are you a flesh peddler, little human? Is that what’s going on here?”
Indignant, I straighten. “Of course not.”
“Then what are you trying to hide?”