by Dixon, Ruby
“Nothing! I’m not hiding anything.” I hesitate. “I’d only kill you because I have to. It’s not that I want to kill you—though I’m mightily tempted right now,” I grumble. “It’s because if it’s a choice between you and me, I pick me.”
That makes him stop laughing. He grows silent, and the look on his face is thoughtful. “So you’d kill me.”
“If I have to.” Just the thought makes me queasy.
“How would you do it?”
“I don’t know! I’d have to think it through! Don’t pressure me!” But I’m already thinking about it. I don’t think I can carve him up…or starve him. Poison?
“You know…” He leans back in the chair, his body entirely too big for it. He looks obscenely large, and when his hips arch again, I suck in a breath. His movements are positively, alarmingly distracting. “You don’t have to kill me to buy my silence. You can buy it another way.”
Oh. I consider this for a moment, pacing. I don’t want to empty what little is left in my savings, but I also don’t want to kill a man. I know he’s a trespasser and he’s been sending me threats, but the thought of chopping him into tiny pieces and tossing him into the compost heap makes something inside me die. “Blackmail? Fine. How much do you want?”
“I’m not interested in credits.” His eyes gleam. “I’ll let you earn my silence between the sheets.”
9
NASSAKTH
I don’t know why I suggest that. It has to be the flowers making my mind turn to sludge. There’s no way that Kim will ever take me up on the offer…but I throw it out there anyway. As an ex-gladiator, I’ve learned that you have to make big moves sometimes. You have to surprise your opponent and keep them guessing.
And I’ve definitely done that to this sweet little human.
She’s looking at me as if I’m insane. “Sleep with you?!” I can hear the outrage in her voice.
“There would be very little sleeping involved,” I promise her. Ah, my cock aches at the thought. Of Kim, naked with all that strange pink skin, her body moving underneath mine. I even like her hair like this. It makes me think she’s trying to look praxiian to please me…which isn’t the case, but an old gladiator can dream.
She sputters. “Absolutely not.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me to earn my silence,” I bluff. I doubt Kim could harm a single living creature. There’s too much of a fascinating innocence to her, despite all that she’s been through.
She huffs angrily at me and then storms out of the room, as if my suggestion is so repellent that she cannot even stand to look at me.
I sigh, disappointed. I knew this was too easy. Even though I paid the bounty hunter to “capture” me instead of another, I knew Kim would be surprised. I just didn’t realize she loathed me. Is my courting so offensive? My form? I glance down at my body. I wear a dark, form-fitting tunic and trou, my clothing standard so I can blend with the assortment of agricultural-enthusiast aliens on Risda III. My tail is freshly brushed and my fur is still as thick and dark as it ever was.
It must be me that is the problem. My personality. I am not as kind as she wants.
I twitch in the chair, the scent of pollen making my body ache everywhere, but especially in the groin. I am…very disappointed at her reaction. I didn’t think she would climb onto my lap and fling herself into my arms with joy, but I also didn’t expect this. I flex my hands in the cuffs. I could rip them free of the chair, crush the object with an easy movement, and head back to my own farm a few leagues away. Forget all of this.
Sleep off the pollen and forget Kim.
I don’t, though. I stay in the uncomfortable chair, silently wishing for her to return, to come and talk to me. To tell me what she is thinking.
She doesn’t, though, and I am left alone, staring at her small, cozy house. I let my imagination run wild. I would bend her over that counter and claim her from behind, my teeth digging into her shoulder. I would seat her atop this table and lick her cunt until she screams. I would press her up against that window and let the world around us see that she is my mate. My thoughts grow filthier and filthier as the smell of pollen hangs in the air, so thick and sultry and I can practically taste Kim’s scent, even across the house, and it makes me harder than ever.
When her bedroom door opens, I think that she is a dream at first. Her hair is free of the two knots that mimic ears, and hangs loose around her shoulders. She wears a flimsy robe that she clutches to her chest…and carries a large knife as she approaches.
A knife.
That is new bedsport to me, but in Kim’s arms I will welcome it. I purr a greeting at her. “Have you come to touch me?”
“No!” she hisses. “What is wrong with you?”
Nothing at all. I smile at her, my hips bucking. I am dying to have her touch me, to move close enough so I can grind against her. The world around me is a pollen-induced haze of lust. “Then what is the knife for?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
I laugh. “No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am!”
I laugh again, because she doesn’t sound confident at all. “No female that stared at my cock for that long is interested in killing me.”
Kim makes an outraged sound. “I did not stare!”
“You did,” I reassure her. “It is all right. I liked it. You can touch it, if you want.” My purring grows louder. “I’d like it if you touched it.”
“I’d like it if you’d shut up,” she snaps at me, waving the knife in my face. “I mean it. I’m going to kill you. I can’t let you go and tell everyone what happened here.”
I lean my head back, exposing my throat and inviting her to cut…or perhaps scratch my chin. I do love a good chin scratch. Even that thought fills me with erotic glee.
She puts the knife to my throat, her hands trembling.
I groan, utterly aroused.
Kim backs away again and retreats to her rooms. “We’ll do this in the morning!”
I doubt that we will, but morning is fine. I will be just as hungry for her touch then as I am now. Maybe even more so, if I sit here and breathe pollen all night. “Then you will touch my cock in the morning?” I ask hopefully.
She makes a growling sound in her throat and stops her retreat. She paces back to my side, moving so close that her scent blooms around me. Her expression is one of pure disgust, though. A hate-kef? Does she want a hate-kef?
I will take any kind of kef. I will make her like it so much that she will come begging for another round. I know I can win her…I just need to touch her.
“Why do you think I’m going to touch you at all?” She shakes her head, squinting at me. “Why are you being like this? I don’t like you! I don’t want you!”
I just smile at her, swishing my tail forward so the tip of it drags against her soft leg. “You say angry words to me but we both know the truth of this, little human. You want me.”
She pinches the spot between her brows. “Why on god’s green earth would you think that? I have never encouraged you!”
“You spit angry words at me, but your actions tell a different story—”
“What story?”
“You stare at my cock—”
“Because it’s staring back at me!”
“You kidnap me—”
“That was a mistake!”
“And you fill your house with noli fern,” I finish triumphantly, circling my hips enticingly. “What is a praxiian to think if a female ties him down and smothers him with noli fern? You can protest all you like, but I know the truth of it. Do not worry, little one.” I lean in. “We can make a safe word and then you can protest all you like—”
She slaps my mouth and races from the room.
With that slap, I spill in my trou. Kef me, but that was good.
10
KIM
I hide in my bedroom, trying to figure out what to do next. I lock the door and lie down on my bed, my hands pressed to my face. Theoretically, I s
hould sleep. If I’m going to be disposing of a body in the morning, I really do need to get my rest. I can’t seem to relax, though. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s vibrating with tension.
My terrifying neighbor is handcuffed in my living room…and more confusing than that, he’s not acting terrifying. Weird, yes. Blatantly sexual, yes. But I haven’t felt…threatened? It’s like he watches me trying to figure me out, rather than watching me like he wants to bury me in a shallow grave somewhere. Instead, I’m the one thinking of shallow graves.
How far I’ve fallen. I used to be a preschool teacher. Now I’m contemplating murdering my neighbor. I turn on my side and hug my pillow to my chest, sad for what I’ve become.
A moan makes me jerk awake.
I sit up, bleary and confused, and scrub a hand over my face. I guess I fell asleep after all? I look around my room, wondering, and another pained moan makes me jump to my feet.
The praxiian. Shit!
I tighten my robe around my waist and look around my room for a weapon. The only thing I have is an oversized pottery vase that one of the other human farmers made me in exchange for adding a character that looked like her to my storyline. I grab the vase and toss the blooming flowers onto the bed, then pour the water into the sink in my bathroom. When it’s empty, I clutch it in my arms, ready to cosh a particular cat-alien over the head if I must.
I hear another pained, low moan come from the living room.
Sucking in a breath, I open the door and creep out.
The first thing I notice is that the praxiian is still in the chair I left him in. He’s covered in sweat, his tufted gray fur damp and clinging to his brow. His head lolls back against his big, sweat-slick shoulders, and his legs are sprawled out in front of him, spread wide. The enormous erection is back—or never left—and to my chagrin, the entire front of his trousers is entirely soaked, and I suspect not all of it is sweat. Has this man been jizzing on himself all night?
Why are aliens SO weird?!
He groans again, big body shuddering, and it sounds like pain more than anything else. I creep forward, clutching the vase, and the moment I move toward him, his head snaps up. His eyes open and he stares at me.
“I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he says, voice cracking, as if his throat is parched. “How can you do this to me?”
“I…I…” I pull my shoulders back defensively, skirting wide around those long legs. His accusation makes me feel so guilty. How am I possibly going to kill him in the morning? But how can I possibly let him live? “Look. It’s not about hate. It would just be a killing to save myself. It’s not about you.” I think for a moment, and then add, “I promise I’ll make it an easy death.”
“Easy?” He huffs with that strange, hissy laughter. “You’re torturing me. Just kill me now and end this.”
“Torture? What are you talking about?” What is it that I’m not getting, here?
His hips flex again, his eyes squeezing shut. As I watch, his hips jerk once more, and then a fresh wet stain spreads across the lap of his pants.
I suck in a breath. I can’t believe I just watched that happen. It feels indecent…and slightly fascinating.
“Noli poisoning,” he mutters, and another pained groan escapes him. He pants hard. “Pure…torture…cruel…”
Cruel? Me? I move toward him, concerned despite myself. He looks terrible. Feverish. “Are you sick?” I go to his side and put my hand on his brow, then touch his cheek. He feels hot and flushed.
Before I can pull my hand away, he turns his head and nuzzles my palm, licking it. “So beautiful.”
I squeal, pulling away, and clutch the front of my robe. Even now, I can still feel the slickness of his tongue against my sensitive palm, the gentle scrape of his tongue against my skin, and I’m rattled. “What are you doing?”
“It’s the flowers. You think I want to be like this?” A harsh laugh huffs from his exhausted throat. “Fun ended…hours…ago…” And his hips jerk again.
The flowers? What? I stare down at the vase in my hands, then the vase full of bright, pretty blooms on the table. They’re pretty but…oh.
Ohhhhhh.
Oh shit.
The aphrodisiac. It only works on his race. When I thought about the noli, I thought it had to be powdered and dried, like catnip. Or ingested. I didn’t realize simply being around the flowers was going to make him crazy.
Oh dear lord…this explains a lot.
“Oh my god.” I grab the vase on the table near him and hurriedly toss it outside, flinging it as far as I can out the door. I toss down the “weapon” vase, too, because it’s covered in smears of cheery yellow pollen. “Oh my god.”
“Just…wanted…” My praxiian neighbor lets out another pained groan. “T’be with you…Kim…”
I turn. “You what?”
“You,” he manages, panting. “I like you. Or…I did.” He shakes his head… “So…cruel…”
I race back to his side. He LIKES me? The same guy that’s been harassing me for weeks likes me? But…but…
I stare at the enormous erection and the wet pants, and I wring my hands. Did I really do this to him? With the flowers? He truly thinks I’m torturing him to get revenge? And he LIKES me? “I tossed out the flowers! I’m not doing this on purpose!”
“Won’t…help…now…”
“What do I do?” I twist my hands anxiously. He looks so awful. Did I think I could kill him? Right now I’m getting all freaked out just seeing him in pain. I can’t believe I poisoned him with an aphrodisiac.
That one’s gonna be hard to explain to the local authorities.
“How do I help?” I ask, hovering nervously.
“Touch me.”
“I’m not going to do that!”
His eyes open and he stares at me. His pupils are enormous, his gaze glassy and unfocused. “Let me touch you, then. Let me lick you. I’ll lick you so good, Kim.”
“I’m not doing that, either!”
Did I think having my kidnapped neighbor in my living room was an impossible problem? It’s like the universe is messing with me. Because now I have a big, horny kidnapped neighbor…
And I can’t stop thinking about the way he licked my palm.
11
KIM
I slap a wet towel over the praxiian’s brow, ignoring his fevered panting and begging for release. I wet another towel and gently drape it over his straining groin.
“Touch me, Kim,” he mutters. “Touch me.”
I look at the clock, wondering how long this will go on. It’s been hours since I woke up to realize that I’d “poisoned” my neighbor with the noli. The sun is just about to come up, and he seems as fevered and overheated as ever. I’ve been trying to help ease things with wet towels, and I opened all the windows in the house, hoping a breeze would carry the scent away, but I’m not sure it’s doing any good. My fields are filled with more noli, after all.
I’ve called Bethiah all night, too, but it’s clear she’s not willing to pick up her package. I’m stuck with this big, horny cat and I have to figure out what to do with him.
It’s clear that I can’t let him go. If I do, I suspect he’ll run to the local authorities, tell them how I tortured and poisoned him after I kidnapped him, and I’ll be tossed into some alien prison. I shudder at the thought. I absolutely cannot go to prison. I’ve seen how free humans are treated; I can’t imagine how bad it’d be to be a human prisoner in an alien jail.
I’m also pretty sure I can’t kill him. Just seeing him in pain and groaning is enough to twist my heart. He’s so very miserable, and every time his hips flex, he cries out, as if he’s in pain. It makes me feel SO damn guilty.
I mean, sure, he’s been threatening me, but I’m not sure I’m made of the same cruel material he is. I can’t stand to see another living being suffer, even this jerk.
Also, I’m really, really confused.
He’s left slaughtered animals on my porch…but he says he likes me?
I look over at his towel-covered brow. His mouth is open, panting, the tip of his tongue curled. I suddenly want to grab him by the facial tufts and shout at him. Why do you like me? I wonder silently. What did you mean?
“Kim,” he mutters, tossing his head so violently he flings the wet towel aside. “Kim.”
“Right here. Haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Brushed…tail…for you…”
I calmly get up and retrieve the towel, then wet it again and drop it on his brow. “What does that mean?”
“All…for…you…”
I grit my teeth. “Seriously, either you start telling me what this means or I’m not going to give you any more water.”
“Lick you,” he demands, panting. “Let me lick you.”
“No—”
“Won’t tell anyone. Just let me touch you.” He looks over at me with bright eyes, but are they a bit clearer than before? It’s so hard to tell.
I frown at him. “You can lick me if you give me answers.”
“Anything…”
I present him with the back of my hand. “Go wild.”
I’m not sure what I expected, but he falls upon it ravenously, licking and stroking with his tongue, moaning as if he’s never been more turned on in his life by some knuckles. And…okay, it’s hard for me not to get affected. He drags his tongue over my skin in such a way that it’s difficult to ignore.
But…I don’t want to have sex with him. I don’t want any sex. I just want him to go away.
So…answers. I pull my hand away and he cries out. “You can lick it again if you tell me what’s going on.”
“W-was my idea,” he manages.
“What was?”
“Being your mate… Let me lick you again.”
Being my mate was HIS idea? I hold my hand out, and at his groan of pleasure, feel a spike of my own. Ugh. I don’t know how I feel about that. I pull back again. “What do you mean it was your idea?”
“I…saw you talk to her. You paid her…I paid her more.” His gaze locks on me. “Because I want you.”