Risdaverse Tales: Four Risdaverse Novellas

by Dixon, Ruby

  So I get out of bed, gaze around me at the cozy little room, and bite back my sigh of sadness. Emvor gets up, as silent as me, and heads out to start the morning chores. I guess that makes sense. He told me most gatherings are a day-long sort of event, and we’d be leaving after breakfast. It’ll be a journey of an hour or so by air-sled, and then it’s a day of socializing and eating. Kind of like an old-fashioned human potluck, I think. Emvor says he normally avoids them, but this time I guess he doesn’t have a choice, not if he wants to get rid of me. I’ve never been a very social creature myself. Maybe I would have been once upon a time, but after over a decade of being a freakshow, there’s nothing I like more than a quiet evening at home. In that, Emvor and I are perfectly matched. I watch him go, moving past the pile of baked goods that I made yesterday in preparation for today. Normally he’ll sneak a taste here and there. Today he ignores them, and it hurts my heart.

  I guess I’d better get ready.

  After a quick wash, I fix my hair with care, since I know it’s one of my best features. I tease it into big, bouncy waves that cascade down my shoulders and clip it back at my temples. No sense in hiding behind my hair—everyone’s going to see my very human face soon enough. I have an ornate tunic with intricate sleeves that Leandra insisted I have as bridal wear, but I haven’t taken it out until this moment. I put it on over my everyday trou and then spend the next half hour lacing and knotting and folding the delicate sleeves with shaking hands. When I’m ready, I put a bit of lip-shine on my mouth, the only cosmetic that mesakkah women use, and gaze at myself in the mirror. I look like Leandra’s little pet, and the thought is depressing. I thought after coming here that I’d be a new person, get a fresh start. Be a real person, not just a plaything.

  It feels like I’m moving backward, though. Whatever progress I’ve made, whatever new person I’ve become since getting off the spaceship, I’ll be back to Leandra’s lost little pet in a flash.

  I should be grateful, I remind myself. Most slaves aren’t given a choice. Most are simply rounded up and disposed of and end up in seedy spaceports, working on their backs. I’m lucky.

  “Lucky,” I remind myself as I put on my shoes and move into the living area to pack up the food we’re bringing. I realize I should probably pack my things, as well, and tears threaten.

  EMVOR

  I feed the animals, trying to keep my mind off of what’s going to happen today. We’re going to drive out to the gathering, make nice with my neighbors, and I’m going to do my best to find myself a husband for Nicola. There are plenty of single men on this planet, since farming isn’t exactly driving women out here to remote Cassa. I can think of at least five farmers nearby without wives that might be interested…but none of them seem right for Nicola.

  There’s Huseri, but he isn’t fond of bathing and tends to smell strongly. Which isn’t a problem when you live alone on your farm, but I imagine delicate Nicola under him and it makes me ill. Not him.

  There’s Chetakh, who has a very large farm, but he’s also cheap. Nicola deserves someone that will pamper her and let her do as she pleases, especially after the life she’s had. Chetakh would have her wearing scraps and would hate her baking because it would use up his food stores. He’s not right for her.

  There’s Sanjurel, but he’s old and still misses his wife. Not him.

  There’s Amanast, but…I don’t like his face. And he has a strange laugh, like he’s belching instead of laughing. There’s no particular reason not to like him, I just don’t.

  I mentally run through the rest of the single men living close by, and I can’t find a single one that’s right for her. Too short, too tall, too old, too young, too rich, too poor, too stubborn, too rude. There’s no one that seems just right for someone as wonderful as Nicola is. I have to think of someone for her, though. She’s not going back into space and wondering about her future. I want her to feel safe.

  I head inside, unable to stall any longer. This day is going to happen whether I want it to or not. I rub at my sweaty hair. Should clean up before we head out, since it’ll be a long day and I don’t want Nicola thinking I smell as bad as Huseri. She—

  The thoughts die in my head, and my breath dies in my throat.

  Nicola stands in the doorway to the bedroom, and her beauty takes my breath away. She wears a long tunic over trou, in the traditional style back on Homeworld. The sleeves are an ornate, almost ridiculous style that is popular right now and I’ve avoided on my own clothing, but it looks amazing on her. The intricacy of the clothing just highlights how delicate she is, and how ethereal and lovely. The fabric is a dark, almost midnight, blue that makes her skin look even more luminous and her hair glossy. She smiles at me, her pink mouth shining and her magnificent breasts outlined perfectly by the clinging material.

  “Do you think this is okay to wear?” she asks me shyly. “I don’t know these people and I’m not sure of the dress code, but this is the best outfit I have.”

  I want to tell her to change into something plainer. Not because the others will mind, but because this outlines her perfect, dainty figure and the delicate turn of her ankles. And those breasts. But she’s nervous and worried, her hands trembling as she smooths the hem, and the last thing I want to do is make it worse. “You look beautiful,” I say gruffly.

  And then I’m awarded with an easing of tension in her shoulders and a heartbreaking appearance of that dimple. It’s downright unfair that she’s going to belong to someone else.

  * * *

  We’re not in the air-sled for more than ten minutes before I see another one in the distance, heading our way. Sleds can go over any terrain, so I know there’s no reason to ride alongside each other unless it’s purely for curiosity or company. I’m guessing we’re about to get a dose of both.

  “Who’s that?” Nicola asks, and she shrugs a shawl up over her shoulders and over her hair. I realize she’s trying to hide her face. Of course she is. She’s scared someone’s coming after her.

  I feel a surge of protectiveness toward her. “It’s gonna be okay,” I promise her, keeping my voice gentle. “Just one of the neighbors being a little nosy.”

  “All right,” she says in a shaky voice, and I notice she doesn’t lower her hood.

  We’re silent as the sled approaches to move alongside ours. I don’t slow my speed to encourage the visit. Don’t have to. I know from a glance whose sled it is. Amanast has the flashiest air-sled this side of the galaxy. It’s a bright, impractical red that sticks out like a sore thumb and is just begging to get scratched up.

  He cruises up alongside us and tips his hand at his horns in greeting. “Emvor! Sanjurel said you’d be coming out for this gathering but I didn’t believe him. Said we’d never get that old codger out of his cave unless they were handing out more land.” He gives his belching laugh, grinning so wide it seems like he’s all teeth. “Heard that you had company visiting, though, and thought I would introduce myself. Who’s your friend?”

  I glance over at Nicola and she’s got her head down, carefully hidden by her hood. Her hands are tucked away, as well. I glance back at Amanast and notice that his gaze is focused on her breasts. Keffing bastard. He shouldn’t be ogling her. “Company,” is all I say. I should tell him more, tell him that she’s looking for a husband, but I can’t force the words past my throat.

  “Looks like female company to me,” Amanast says, and I can practically feel Nicola trembling at my side.

  I should introduce the two of them. Amanast is young. He’s got money. I imagine he’d be good to a wife. Don’t think he’d care if she’s human. He’d probably like the attention she’d bring him. But then he gives another one of those jarring laughs. I imagine that braying face moving in near Nicola, braying at her while she sleeps. Braying at her while he mounts her—

  My hands tighten on the controls of my sled and I grind my teeth. I want to tell her it’s going to be okay. That I know she’s scared but I’ll protect her. Of course, how can I say t
hat if I don’t intend on keeping her? Do I even have the right to be mad at the thought of who’s gonna touch her if it’s not going to be me?

  I reach over to pat her knee and instead, she puts her hand in mine and gives it a little squeeze.

  She’s reassuring me. Gods damn it, she’s breaking my keffing heart.

  I look over at Amanast again, at his eager, open face. He wouldn’t be bad for her, no…but I ain’t giving her up. I can’t. She’s already in my blood. Should have known the first time I saw her that I’d be keeping her. Don’t matter that she’s not strong and fit.

  I’ll just buy a few of the damned mechs for the farm after all and keep my pretty wife occupied in my bed.

  The thought feels so right that I chuckle to myself. Dunno why I’ve been fighting this for the last week when I could have been exploring Nicola’s curves. I’m just a stubborn fool, I guess.

  “Going to introduce me?” Amanast asks, leaning in.

  I look over at him. “Nope.”

  And then I put my sled in reverse and careen backward, away from Amanast and his shiny sled and his obnoxious laugh. I cruise in reverse for a few, and then turn the sled around and head back toward my home at high speed. They can just miss me—miss us—for another gathering. No one will care much. I don’t really care if they do.

  “What’s wrong?” Nicola asks after a moment, clutching her hood about her face as the wind whips around us.

  I glance over at her and her sad eyes that seem so big in her small face. “I’m keeping you.” When silence meets that statement, I begin to slow the sled down, just in case she wants me to go to the gathering after all. “Unless you don’t want to be kept—”

  Nicola flings her arms around my neck and the sled wobbles off to the side, careening over one of my fields. I don’t much care about that, because all I can think of is her soft body pressing up against me and the way she keeps pressing her mouth to my cheek and jaw, over and over again. She makes a sound of pure delight and snuggles up against me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

  I pat her shoulder awkwardly, trying to right the sled before we crash into all the crops. Not really sure what to say now that I made my big declaration. I clear my throat. “Should probably save all the face-tasting until we get back to the farm.”

  “Face tasting?” She giggles and runs her fingers down my cheek in the same spot where she had her mouth a moment ago. “I’m sorry. I forgot the mesakkah don’t like to be touched like that. Hygiene laws.” She sits back in the sled next to me, letting her hood slide away from her hair. “I won’t do it again if it bothers you.”

  “Didn’t say that,” I tell her, and I can feel my skin growing hot with embarrassment. Kinda liked it, actually. “Just saying we should save it for when I’m not driving.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She gives me a shy look. “Are you sure about this, Emvor?”

  That might be the first time I’ve heard her say my name. I like it, almost as much as I like the face tasting. “I’m sure. You’re mine and that’s that.”

  “That’s that,” she echoes, a happy sigh in her voice. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

  “Like you too much,” I admit to her, and I’m rewarded with another wide smile. Complimenting her makes me feel good. Gonna have to do it more often, I think.

  The drive back home seems to take three times as long as it should. I’m conscious of Nicola in the seat across from me, her hair ruffling in the wind. Is she going to want to be mine in all ways when we get back? Or does she need more time to adjust to the thought of being in the bed—really, really being in the bed—of an ugly mesakkah like me? I think of my bad knee and the mass of scars there, and wonder if it’s going to bother her. But she pushed her mouth against my cheek like it didn’t affect her, and gods know it’s ugly enough.

  Doesn’t matter. We have all the time in the world for her to get comfortable with me. I’ll give her as much space as she needs, and if it takes a year or two for her to reach for me in bed other than to share warmth, it won’t matter. Just her presence is enough. I’ve had more joy in this short week with her on my farm than I’ve had in the last ten years. If she needs time, I’ll give her time.

  I park the sled with a little too much haste and then help her down from it, mostly just so I can have an excuse to put her hand in mine again. Her fingers are warm against my skin and just that small touch makes my cock ache like it does when we’re under the covers together. And just like those times, I start to sweat.

  She’s really going to be mine.

  Calm, I remind myself. She needs a man that’s going to be patient with her. She’s already skittish.

  Except she doesn’t seem all that skittish at the moment. She’s beaming and happy and gazing at my small home as if it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. And then she looks over at me the exact same way.

  Nearly come in my trou just at that one look. I release her hand so I don’t and push inside. “Settle yourself in,” I tell her. “I’ll get the food and put it away.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind not going to the gathering?” Nicola asks, her voice soft. She stands on the doorstep, hugging that wrap around her shoulders as if she’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t socialize because of me.”

  I can’t help the snort that escapes me as I reach into the back of the sled and pull out the stacks of mouthwatering pastries she’s made for my neighbors. Too bad for them, because I plan on making myself sick on all this good food made by my wife.

  My wife. The thought fills me with pride and a sense of rightness. This is how it should be. We belong together. She’s mine. I’ve never loved the thought of something like that so much. “Hate socializing,” I admit to her. “I’m not much of a people person.” I hesitate, then continue. “But I’ll give it a shot if you want to meet the neighbors.”

  “Eventually,” she says, following me inside the house. “But I’m not ready yet, I don’t think.”

  “Take your time,” I tell her, and I mean it. “If I don’t have to see their faces for years, that suits me just fine.”

  Nicola’s laugh is soft. “Maybe not years. But a few months at least. I’m not much of a partyer. I’m definitely more a stay-at-home type.”

  “Which is why we’re perfect together,” I say, but the words come out slowly, as if I’m as shy as a schoolboy. Kef, I feel as awkward as one. Half expect her to tease me for saying such a thing.

  But she doesn’t. She’s just quiet. I put the food on the counter and turn around—

  And she’s right there, standing right in front of me. Gazing up at me with a little smile playing around her lips. She takes my hand in hers again, and considers it. My four fingers to her five. My blue skin against her strange pinkish-white. Nicola traces her fingertips over my knuckles, and that slight touch sends a shiver up my spine.

  “You really want me?” she asks, her voice soft. “You’re not just being kind?” She won’t meet my eyes, just keeps rubbing the pads of her fingers over my knuckles, back and forth, and it’s like she’s doing it to my cock, I’m so hard.

  “I’ve heard a lot of things said about me,” I tell her. “But ‘kind’ isn’t one of them.”

  “I would say you’re kind,” Nicola tells me, breathless. “Kind, and understanding. Maybe a little stubborn, but also with a noble spirit. And protective. I like that.” She lifts my hand to her mouth and rubs her lips against my knuckles. “And handsome.”

  My pleasure dashes at that last word. My knee aches and I feel every inch the broken man I was when I returned from the war, full of disappointment. “Not handsome,” I say flatly. “We both know that’s true.”

  “You are to me,” she says, and she holds tight to my hand when I try to pull away from her. “I see your scars. Don’t think that I’m blind to them. But I don’t think they’re ugly. I think they tell a story of a past you’ve overcome, just like me. And the fact that you’ve been
so very kind to me? Treated me like I’m a person ever since I got here?” She reaches up and touches my jaw, her hand light against my skin even as she presses my other hand to her breasts. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  Now I’m really sweating. My cock feels as if it’s going to burst free from my trou if it gets any harder. “Nicola. I know you’ve been through a lot. I just want you to know that we can wait until you’re ready…”

  And then my voice dies in my throat because she’s putting my hand on one of those plump, glorious breasts and looking up at me with her big eyes. There’s no teasing smile on her face in this moment. She’s utterly serious and she reaches up for me again. “I’d kiss you right now, but I don’t think I can reach that high.”

  I’m too distracted by the feel of her breast in my hand. The hard little tip is tickling my palm, begging for me to rub it. To stroke over it and feel it grow tight, and to see her reaction. It takes me a moment to realize what she’s saying. “Kiss…?”

  Nicola nods. “It’s a human thing. The lips on mouth. Well, earlier I did lips on face, but it can get more intense than that.” The smile is returning to her mouth. “Want to give it a try? Or should we observe the hygiene laws like they do back on Homeworld? Leandra gave me quite a lecture about plas-film and protection until we’re ready to have a baby. About covering my body to protect it from germs, but humans aren’t like that.” She bites her lip and slides her hand from my jaw to my chest. “And I want to touch you. All of you. Is that wrong?”

  If it’s wrong, I want to be wrong with her. I groan low in my throat and put my hand under her legs and back, picking her up in my arms and carrying her into the bedroom. “Kef the plas-film,” I tell her, hating the thought of using a body condom to protect my skin. I want to rub all over her like she’s suggesting. “The thought of you carrying my child fills me with joy.”