When She Purrs: A Risdaverse Romance

by Dixon, Ruby

  "I can't say." It's not a lie. I really don't know what I can say. Do they know the truth about Nassakth? Did Bethiah tell them? Did my mate? Or do they just think he happens to have the same name as a famous praxiian gladiator? Is the name “Nassakth” as common out in the galaxy as “John” is back home? I stir my noodles some more. "So are praxiians rare?"

  "I don't know that they're rare, just that they tend to keep to themselves. Praxiians hire praxiian pirates and all that. They don't trust a lot of outsiders." Adiron leans in, grinning. "We mesakkah, we're loose, easy sorts. We take anyone, long as the credits are right."

  He's funny, this one. I chuckle, taking another bite.

  "I should also give you the standard speech we give all humans we run across," Adiron says, still smiling. "If you need to get away from your partner for any reason, just say the word 'hamburger.' That's a word my sister taught us. Say that and you'll never see him again. We'll get you deposited in a human shelter on a nice, safe planet, I promise." His smile grows somewhat harder. "Things aren't easy for your kind out here, so we help where we can."

  "I appreciate the gesture," I tell him sincerely. "But I love Nassakth. We're married, not just mated. And actually, this trip is to meet his family, oddly enough." I push my noodle bowl away, my stomach tensing a little at the thought of meeting in-laws. Praxiian in-laws. "It's going to be…interesting."

  "Oh boy. I bet." Adiron leans back and cracks his big knuckles. "I'd love to be a zhar on the wall for that."

  "Mmm." I cross my arms and study my new friend. "I don't suppose you have any tips you'd love to pass along about praxiians? You seem to be more familiar with their people than I am."

  He shrugs. "I'm sure there's some vids about their culture you can watch if you want. Passengers have access to the vid library."

  I've seen most of the stuff about praxiians in vids. It's all very chirpy and high level and useless, with facts like "Did you know that a praxiian has a prehensile tail?" Yes, no shit, useless computer.

  "As for what I know?" He pauses, thinking, and then gives me a shrewd look. "What I know doesn't make it into a vid."

  "That's the stuff I need to know," I point out, leaning in eagerly. "I need to know the real stuff. Are they dangerous? Trustworthy?"

  "You can ask your mate."

  "I don't want him to know I'm nervous about meeting his family."

  Adiron nods. "Don't blame ya. Praxiians have some odd customs. Like I said, I don't know much." He rubs his jaw. "But I do know they don't like humans. At all. They liken them to pests infesting the galaxy."

  Figures. His parents are going to think of me as one big cockroach. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Do you know anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what it means to make someone purr?”

  He just grins. “Wish I did.”

  Damn. Me too. Surely someone will know.

  63

  KIM

  Despite most of the trip being fairly uneventful, I can't stop thinking about my conversation with Adiron. I know he didn't mean anything by it. He was just trying to be helpful…but knowing that my mate's parents are going to loathe me sight unseen is kind of stressing me out. I tell myself I shouldn't care because they abandoned Nassakth to “honorable slavery” (which is an oxymoron if there ever was one), but it's clear he wants their approval in some way.

  And I guess part of me worries that if they disapprove of me, it's going to poison what we have.

  So I chat with the brothers that run the ship, I chat with Bethiah, and I spend a lot of time with Nassakth, just cuddling and talking of the future. It should be a good, uneventful trip, but at the same time, it feels like an axe is hanging over our heads.

  I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always does.

  After about a week—it's hard to keep track of days in space—we orbit the station, waiting for permission to dock. The Little Sister is going to remain on station, waiting to take us back, for however long—or short—our visit with Nassakth's parents will be. The meeting is all set up—we are scheduled to arrive at the cantina and Bethiah has greased enough palms that we've got a private room set up. We'll have time to sit and talk in private, and…hopefully that's all it is. Sitting and talking. Bethiah will be there to play bodyguard, and for the last few days, I've seen her shining her weapons with a rather avid look in her eyes.

  She's ready.

  The crew is ready.

  Nassakth's ready.

  I'm terrified.

  When we finally dock, I pick through the few tunics and trou I've brought, looking for something to wear. I pull out a long piece of fabric and wrap it around my head, concealing my hair, lower face and neck, and tuck it into the collar of my tunic.

  Nassakth just puts on his guns and runs his fingers through his mane. I noticed that he seems casual right now…but I also know he spent an hour grooming his tail earlier and every strand of fur on it is gleaming and in place. I'd swear there's even a decorative bead or two in the thick fur, but I don't ask. Tails seem like sensitive things, and I'm guessing it's a lot like asking a guy if he uses product in his hair. Even if he does, he won't admit it…and he sure won't like being asked.

  "You nervous?" I ask him, moving to his side and putting my hand on his arm.

  "I am praxiian. We do not get nervous," he tells me in a lofty voice, and then pats his belt, checking his weapons again. "I am, however, uneasy."

  "You and me both." I glance down at his weapons. "Can I have a gun to carry?"

  "It might draw more attention than it's worth," Nassakth admits, and produces a thin blade. "Carry this instead."

  "I could kiss you right now," I say, grinning up at him from under my face wrap. I grab the knife and stuff it into the belt at my waist, then pull my long tunic over it.

  He leans down and pushes my covering aside, pressing a kiss to my mouth. "I do not like this thing." He fingers the material. "It hides your beauty."

  "It also hides the fact that I'm not wearing a collar, and I don't want anyone thinking I'm up for grabs." I hesitate. "Maybe I should wear one after all? A collar?"

  Nassakth frowns. "I hate the idea. You are my mate, not my pet."

  "I know that, and you know that. I hate collars, too. But we have to ask—will it make me safer?"

  He grunts. "It might."

  I pull out the collar Bethiah has left for us. It's ornamental and decorative, with a shiny, slinky chain that ties to Nassakth's belt. With a grimace of distaste, I unwrap my scarf and put the collar on my neck, chaining the other end to his belt. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

  "I do not like this. I would much rather be home with you curled in my bed and naked in my arms." He cups my face in his big hands and tilts my chin, angling my head so he can kiss me. "No collars. No slaves or owners. Just us mated and content."

  "That's where we'll go as soon as we're done here, then," I promise him. "Right back home."

  Nassakth presses one more kiss to my lips, his gaze lingering on my face, and then he nods. "We find out what they want, and then we go home."

  "Easy peasy lemon squeezy," I tell him cheerily.

  "Shall we go, then?" He holds a big hand out to me.

  I put my hand in his…and then grab the head covering and wrap it around my face at the last minute. Just in case.

  Nassakth squeezes my hand and then we leave our quarters. Bethiah is there in the narrow halls of the Little Sister, waiting for us. Gone are the playful expressions and teasing looks—the bounty hunter of today is all business. Her hair is braided tight against her scalp and woven through her horns, crisscrossing like a weird net that's spangled with tiny, glittering stones. Her body is covered head to toe in a gray jumpsuit that's bristling with weapons and pouches of all kinds. There are no less than three blasters strapped to her waist, something that looks like a crossbow on her back, and her legs and boots jingle with metal that's not readily visible. She lifts her chin at us. "We ready?"

  I le
t out a shuddering breath and look up at Nassakth.

  He nods.

  Bethiah produces two bracelets. "These are trackers I want you both to wear. It'll help me keep tabs on you if we get separated." As we put them on, she demonstrates the two buttons on the front. "Press these if you get in trouble. The first one sends a ping to my system so I know there's a problem. The second one will call the local authorities and should only be pushed if I'm incapacitated. I won't be, though, so just try not to hit it."

  I put the bracelet on, noticing that the slinky metal of it slithers around my skin and fits itself against my wrist. "What's this third button do?"

  "Self-destruct," Bethiah says immediately. "Hit that and your arm will explode."

  "What?" I squawk, trying to rip the darn bracelet off. I don't want to wear a bomb.

  "I'm kidding," she teases, and leans in. "It's a comm channel so you can talk to me…or is it?" She gives me a fanged grin. "Who can say?"

  "You're supposed to say, you keffing ass. You're our hired bodyguard!"

  "Yes, but what's an adventure without a little danger?" Her hair tinkles like wind chimes as she adjusts her weapons belt. "Shall we go, my precious babies? Time's wasting and I'm being paid by the hour."

  "No, you're not," Nassakth growls.

  "I could be."

  "But you're not."

  "No fun," she pouts. "So stuffy. Come on, then. Let's go say hello to the family.“

  64

  NASSAKTH

  Space stations have a particular smell. It's one that permeates the bones, clinging to you like a sticky fabric. It's a toxic mix of old sweat, air that's been recycled too many times, and a low-level garbage stink that annoys my sensitive praxiian nose.

  My parents won't be here. There's no way. No praxiian in his right mind would be at this station, where the walls are stained with old filth and bodies press against one another in the narrow, dark halls. It looks like a pirate's den.

  Probably because it is. I glance over at Bethiah and pull Kim closer to me protectively. Most stations are unappealing and poor, but this one is arguably the worst I've seen. "This is the place you picked for us to meet?"

  She gestures around us, elbowing a helmeted krakenoid out of the way as she strides forward. "Do you think there's anything worth bothering with in this station?"

  "No."

  "Exactly. Which is why it's perfect." She gestures at a junction at the end of the hall. "Come on, this way."

  I can feel Kim's hands clinging to my belt, her smaller frame tucked against my arm as we navigate our way—more like push our way—through the crowd. The docks are packed, and as the hall widens, I notice some enterprising vendors haven't even bothered to head to the bazaar. They loiter near doors, looking furtive, and show me a handful of high-end datapads as I walk past. "Get you a deal? Best prices in the galaxy!"

  I ignore them and pull Kim closer. I'm not entirely surprised when I see one of the mesakkah brothers move to her other side. It's the tall one with a dangerous glint in his eyes—Kaspar. He nods at me, fingering his weapons. More security. I'll take it. Five years of life on a farm planet has made me soft. I've forgotten how it feels to rub shoulders with the dregs of the universe.

  Bethiah wades in as if she belongs here, pushing aside dirty-looking thieves and patting an urchin on the head between his horns before moving on. She saunters through the crowd with purpose, and sometimes the only way I can still see her is because of her ridiculous net of hair she's woven between her horns and the chiming of the metal hair ornaments. She's far too comfortable here, I think, as she slows beside another bounty hunter and they assess one another. It reminds me that for all her playfulness, this is a female that only pays attention to the law when it suits her.

  The halls are oppressive and muggy with the stink and crowd of bodies, and I try to breathe shallowly, keeping Kim close. She hasn't said a thing, hasn't protested, but I know this has to be terrifying for her. Luckily, we haven't seen any humans—or any lrulti for that matter. I don't want her to see one at all. I didn't even consider that when I planned this reunion with my parents, and now I realize that was a mistake. She panicked at the sight of a bug in my house—what will she do if we see a lrulti in this environment?

  "You're squeezing my shoulder too tight," she says to me, her voice muffled under her head wrap. "Are you okay?"

  "No." I won't be okay until we're home again.

  She tucks her hand in mine, and I think once again how lucky I am to have her.

  Bethiah disappears into the crowd at the junction, and I look around at the wide open space ahead of us. Booths are set up, ragged-looking stalls and vendors piled atop one another, selling wares that would be illegal in several systems. Impossibly, there seem to be even more people here, a low hum of voices and a cloud of stink incredibly offensive to my nose.

  On Kim's other side, Kaspar points. "She's up ahead."

  I follow where he's pointing, and Bethiah is there, waiting at the entrance to a double-doored cantina. She's talking with a burly szzt who stands guard, and as we approach, she slides him a few credits. "You'll find us a table?" she asks in a sweet voice.

  "You'll find your own table," he says, glancing at our group.

  Bethiah shrugs and glances over at us. "Come on, then."

  "Wait," the bouncer says as we move forward. He points at Kim. "No pets allowed."

  A snarl builds in my throat, and I don't know who I'm angrier at—Bethiah or this male. "This is my mate."

  The bouncer puts his hands in the air, and I notice they're reinforced with electro-shock brass knuckles. "I don't mean to insult, but rules are rules. There's a side room where all purchases, pets, and the like, wait for their owners. You can't let these things run wild in a bar."

  I stiffen with anger. "She is not a THING. She is my mate—"

  Kim pats my hand. "It's okay, Nassakth. I've been to these sorts of rooms before. It'll be all right."

  It's not all right. I want my mate at my side when I greet my parents. I want to introduce her to them, to show them how beautiful and strong she is. I want to hold her hand and feel her quiet approval for me, even as I confront the family who are now strangers to me. I need her at my side.

  But Kim looks up at me with calm eyes, and she touches my hand. "We've come this far, Nassakth. Might as well see it through."

  She knows me too well. Knows that her calm is just what I need. I glare at the guard, who is just doing his job—and yet I want to rip his head from his shoulders and fling it into the crowd. "You will show me this room and I will determine if it is safe for my female."

  The guard opens one of the doors and gestures that we should enter. It's cooler inside, quieter. We step through, and the cantina atmosphere immediately feels different from the crowd outside. It's dimly lit, but the music is cheery and the booths and tables lining the walls private enough. They're about half full, and the people in here look to be better quality than the ones outside the doors. Best of all, the station stink dissipates to a low-level scent and is masked by cooked food.

  The guard points at a side door immediately off to one side. "Through there. You can't take her into the main dining area. You can send food to your pets, but they can't order it."

  I growl under my breath again at the word “pets” but Kim only pats my arm.

  I open the door marked “PETS, LIVE CARGO, AND HUMANS” in six languages. Inside, the walls are plain and there's a battered table in the center of the small room. A human female with a miserable expression on her face and a shock collar on her neck sits there, and doesn't look up as we approach. In one corner, there is a cage with an exotic-looking lizard that was likely bought just outside.

  A pet.

  "No," I say flatly. "My mate—my wife—is not a pet."

  "Nassakth," Kim says, touching my hand. "We've come this far. It's all right. I promise." She pulls her head wrap down and shows me her smile. "This is just temporary. It doesn't reflect who we are any more than this d
oes." She gestures at the decorative collar around her neck. "I trust you."

  She is the best female, and I am not worthy of her. "I am not leaving you here unguarded."

  "I'll stay," Kaspar offers. His grin is a little too quick, too bloodthirsty, and something about the way he scans the cantina tells me he's started his share of bar fights.

  "Just protect her." I point a finger in his chest. "Do not leave her side." I glance at my mate, uneasy. I want to stay at her side and protect her. More than that, I want to get her away from here. I want to take her home and go back to our quiet life where I coax her into my arms.

  Kim just unhooks the chain from my belt and wraps it around her wrist. "It's fine. I'll be here." She glances over at the human woman and a worried look crosses her face as she sits down. "Hi there," she says gently. "I'm Kim."

  Bethiah moves toward me as I watch my mate. "Are we doing this or not?"

  “We’re doing this,” I say, and reluctantly leave my mate behind.

  65

  KIM

  Every plan's bound to have a few little kinks in it. I tell myself this is normal as my big, protective Nassakth disappears, leaving me in the “humans” room of the cantina. More like a storage closet, but it's not the worst treatment I've had, so it's fine. I'm glad Kaspar stays by the door, even if it's on the other side. He leaves it cracked so I can see his blue form as he watches the room and looks as if he desperately wants to be anywhere but here. Adiron said his brother loves an adventure, and I guess guarding humans isn't much of one.

  Since I'm going to be here a few, I turn my attention to the woman seated at the table with me. "Hi there. I'm Kim."

  She glances up at me, and her expression is one I remember well—hopelessness, sadness, and she looks as if the life has been beaten out of her. "Hi."

  "What's your name?" I don't recognize her, not that I expect to, but it's oddly fascinating to see another human face in the space station.