by Dixon, Ruby
Theoretically. Since it’s all under the table, my “ownership” of him is only going to last until he escapes. From the look of him, that won’t be long, either.
He rubs his wrist, silent, in the spot where he had the shock-bracelet on his hand. I try not to stare at him as my air-sled speeds over crop fields, heading toward my distant farm. I’m a few hours’ flight away from port, so I’ve got plenty of time to convince Vordigar he needs to stay with me.
“I know it’s a lot to throw at you at once,” I say. “But hear me out.”
“Oh, I’m listening.” He’s starting to recover, that sly grin returning to his mouth. He’s clearly the type that uses humor to deflect, but I don’t have time for fun and games. I notice he watches the countryside and eyes my air-sled’s control panel. He’s got a look on his face that tells me he’s already plotting his next move.
I don’t feel unsafe, though. I’ve been around murderers and all kinds of galactic scum in the past. You notice real quickly the ones that won’t think twice about killing you. They have a certain look in their eye when they watch you, like you’re an ant that they’re thinking about holding a magnifying glass over. They’re more interested in how to hurt you than anything else. There’s a coldness to their manner.
Jutari has that. Chloe told me he used to be an assassin, and I absolutely believe it. There’s a calculating, almost cruel look in his gaze when he studies anyone…anyone except his wife and baby, that is. With them, he melts.
This man—alien—doesn’t have that cold calculation in his eyes. He’s scheming, all right, but when he looks at me, he watches my face, glances at my tits, and studies my hands. He looks at me like I’m a person, not a thing to be disposed of. Whatever he was in prison for, it’s not murder. I’ve heard that a lot of mesakkah got shipped off to prisons when some war of theirs went awry, though. Maybe that’s the case here.
“You’re from Homeworld?” I ask Vordigar, trying to get him to open up. He’s clearly mesakkah, the blue-skinned race of alien that Chloe’s husband Jutari is.
“Me?” He snorts. “Not directly. Family is, but I’m just freighter trash. Wouldn’t say I come from anywhere in particular.”
I study him. He does have a hard look to his appearance. All of the mesakkah I’ve seen at spaceports here and there dress in flowing, elegant robes. They cap their curling, tall horns with shining metal and groom their thick hair into a flowing waterfall. There’s a certain elegance to the rich elite of the mesakkah Homeworld. This guy, however, is covered in tattoos. They crawl up his neck and down his arms, masking a lot of the brilliant blue of his skin. His horns are capped, but the metal looks dull and slightly scuffed. His face is a mess of scars on one side and pitted on the cheek. It’s clear he’s had some sort of injury, and Jutari said he was a soldier so I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s probably hideous to his people, but to me, he’s just another strange-looking alien. His mouth’s a little twisted when he smiles, and his clothes are tight-fitting and look as if they’ve seen better days. Elegant, he’s not. Easy on the eyes, he’s not. He does, however, look dangerous and just a bit overwhelming, which suits my purposes.
So I get back to it. “I know you’re a convict on the run from Homeworld.” His eyes narrow and he watches me, mouth flat. I rush on, eager to get my piece out before he decides to run for it. “I don’t care about that. Not really. But a scary reputation helps me. You know about the human situation here on Risda?” Before he can respond, I continue on, as if he doesn’t know. “There were a lot of us rescued from a station that specialized in humans. Your government didn’t know what to do with us and won’t send us home, so they dumped us here on Risda and allotted each woman a farm and some basic equipment. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
He grunts.
“Humans aren’t the only ones hiding out in this system, though, and there’s some that view us humans as easy prey. I know several women that established their farm, only to get murdered and their land claimed by another.”
His jaw clenches. “How’s that work?”
“There’s inheritance laws on the land here,” I say to him, crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out at the fields of grains that sway in the gentle breeze. “If I marry someone and I die, my land goes to my spouse. There’s a lot of women being married under duress and showing up murdered. And I’m pretty sure I’m next.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I watch what goes on,” I tell him. “There’s little in my part of the world that I don’t know about. My neighbor Melissa was one of my good friends and she needed a spouse. I did, too. We tossed around the idea of marrying each other just to safeguard our land. Next thing I know, she marries a praxiian and turns up dead.”
“Maybe she fell in love.”
“With a praxiian?” I fight back my glare, wanting to reach over and smack him on the head. I’ve met several of the cat-like race and while I’m sure there are some that are kind, I haven’t met them. To a one, they’re violent and murderous. “That same praxiian has been bothering me when I go into port. He shows up on my farm and takes measurements. I know he’s got an eye on my lands, and I’d prefer not to end up in a shallow grave.”
“So you want me to get you pregnant?” Vordigar looks openly skeptical. “To save your land?”
“Actually I want us to get married. Then you can have half of everything I have. A baby will just cement things further and prevent both of us from getting killed.”
“Or they kill you and the kid, too.”
I swallow hard. “Once everyone knows we’re married and have a child on the way, they’ll stop harassing us. There’s easier prey out there. Plus, your reputation as a convict will make people afraid to mess with you. As an added incentive, I’ve heard that a convict—even an escaped one—that marries one of the human women here can’t get sent back to prison. My need for you will supersede the law on that particular item. Ask your friend Tassar.”
That’s right, I’ve done all my homework. Now agree to this.
Vordigar eyes me. Hard. His gaze lands on my tits again. I wore a dress that emphasizes them, because I wanted to make sure the peace officers were distracted, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt things to look decent for Vordigar to try and convince him to take part in my plan. Tits are just another weapon in my arsenal, and if it means looking a little busty, I’ll do it. “I can’t make you pregnant. I’m mesakkah.”
“And I’m human. I noticed.” Oh, no one ever lets me forget how much humans are scorned and looked down upon out here in the big, vast, dangerous universe. We’re one step up from sentient blow-up dolls and treated worse than some people treat their dogs. “Our species aren’t compatible without outside assistance. I paid a lot to get a fertility shot that adjusts my body to accept your sperm. I have a very small window in which it works, though, and it’ll be closing in about a week.”
He just stares. “Kef me.”
“That’s the plan.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, he rubs his jaw, thinking.
I remain cool and calm. Getting hysterical won’t help things. I’m past hysterics anyhow. At this point, I’m down to cold, hard practicality. If he doesn’t want to do this, I have to turn around and go right back to that jail and try someone else. It’ll destroy my soul a bit, but I’ll do it if I have to. Vordigar isn’t my only option…he’s just the most pleasant one. He’s mesakkah, which is a race that’s generally well liked and also the ruling race of Risda III. That helps things. He’s not a murderer. He looks dangerous. He’s got friends here…and he’s got a reason to need to take me up on my offer. Those are all useful things, but if he says no, I won’t give up.
I’m never giving up.
“What do I get out of this?” Vordigar asks bluntly.
“Sex.”
The unscarred side of his mouth twitches. He leans forward toward me. “I’m not sure about you humans, but the way most mesakkah make babies is with sex.”
&nbs
p; For some reason, his confiding, teasing tone makes me blush. Like I don’t know about babies or sex? “I know that’s how it works,” I tell him. “It’s one of the things I’m offering. As your wife, you have free access to my body. I’ll have sex with you anytime and every time you want.”
He stares at me, maybe a little startled at my business like tone. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
Oh, it bothers me. But not like it did once upon a time. Years of being a captive out in this unforgiving end of the universe has taught me that sex is just another bodily function, and one that doesn’t have to be romantic in the slightest. “It’s just sex,” I tell him. “You think I got captured and dragged from my world because someone wanted a human to do their laundry? I’ve had sex to get by in the past. I can do it when we’re married.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
I lick my lips, trying to think. He’s not moved by my offer of freaky human sex? That’s a first. “I’ll be your wife in every sense,” I tell him. “I’ll cook and clean and help run the farm. We’ll be equals. We’ll have land, and meat-stock, and a stipend from the government to help our farm set up. No one can send you back to prison. You’ll have a livelihood. All you have to do is stay with me.”
“I’m not a farmer,” he says flatly.
“I’m not either, but I’m learning.”
Vordigar rubs his jaw. He looks over at me again—and at my tits, which is a good sign—and then sighs. “I have places to be, Little Bit.”
“My name is Piper. And I know this isn’t ideal, but like I said, I have a very small window to get pregnant and you have a desperate situation. I thought we could mutually benefit each other. If you don’t agree, I can turn this air-sled around and go back to the jail to get another husband.”
He stares. Then, his mouth curves in a hard smile. “You’re playing a hard game.”
“There’s a lot on the line.”
“What happened to that sweet female that was batting her lashes at the guards?”
I drop my voice to the husky note. “You need me to be sweet? Will that change your mind?” I put my hand on his thigh.
He pries it right back off.
I’m surprised…and a little worried. I want to be relieved that he doesn’t want sex. It’s not like I’m dying to jump on his dick. But sex is just about all I have to barter.
“I want you to be real,” he tells me.
“All of this is real,” I say to him. “I need your help. You need my help. I thought we could help each other.”
“By having a baby? And taking up farming?”
“It’s not the life I would have chosen, either, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good one.”
He leans back and gives me a skeptical look. “Why not sell your land? You said some praxiian is all over you wanting it. Sell to him. Make a tidy bundle.”
He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it. “And go where?” I lean back, feeling a little defeated. “No one will take me back to Earth. It’s Class D, which means I’m not supposed to be out here anyhow. Humans are contraband. Let’s assume I don’t end up in someone’s zoo—I’ll end up in someone’s brothel instead, all of my money stolen. No one gives a shit about what happens to a human…except here. Here, they gave me land, and supplies, and a chance to have a normal life, and I’m going to take it.” I lean forward, just a bit, because I need him to understand just how much this means to me. “This is my land. No one’s fucking taking it from me, either.”
Vordigar watches my mouth. His lips curl into a slow, crooked smile. “I didn’t know humans could get so fierce.”
I lean back again, blowing out a breath in frustration. “This is serious.”
“Oh, I know.” But he keeps grinning at me. “I’ve just never been approached by a human and had her demand that I make her pregnant.”
“Only if we marry. I don’t want any of this”—I wave my hand and gesture at his form—“without some sort of benefit on my end.”
Vordigar throws his head back and laughs. “You mean you’re not dying for my cock? I’m wounded.” He clutches at his chest.
I start to smile. Just a little. “If we’re being completely honest, I’ve had enough alien cock to last me all my days, thank you very much.”
He laughs harder.
It feels good to hear someone laughing. I realize in that moment just how isolated and afraid I’ve been for the last few weeks. No, months, really, because Melissa was always super busy with her farm, and she was my closest neighbor. Since she’s been gone, I’ve had almost no one to truly count on. There’s Chloe and her mate, but they’re busy and Chloe has a baby to take care of. She can’t drop everything to come visit when I’m bored or lonely…and I’m bored or lonely far more often than I’d like to admit.
I don’t know this Vordigar guy. But he laughs easily and he pried my hand off his knee when I came on to him, so he might just be the best guy I’ve met in a really, really long time.
“Please help me,” I whisper, my desperation coming out despite my best efforts to play it cool. The scars on my face itch, and it takes everything I have not to touch them. “I know it’s not ideal, but we can make it work. Please.”
Vordigar studies me for a long moment. Then, he looks out the window, his laughter dying. “I need to think about it for a while.”
“Of course.”
We ride the air-sled in silence all the way back to my farm.
9
VORDIGAR
I don’t know what to do.
She’s laid all her sticks out in a row, as the game players like to say. She’s confessed her plan and what she needs. She’s offered me sex and a home. It’s dark when we pull up to the farm, but I can see neat rows of crops and a herd of meat-stock in a nearby field. There’s a small, domed homestead and a barn, and it looks like a nice spread. I know a dozen soldiers that would have keffing killed for this opportunity.
I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father, though. Or a farmer.
My plans for the future were simple—leave Risda III behind and get back into piracy. I dabbled in it before the war, and kept ties with friends in the business while I was in prison. I ran goods for a few buddies while on Haven, and I know people. I look intimidating as hell. I’m a competent navigator and a very competent mech. I can make some decent credits provided I get on the right ship, and I know just the people. The va Sithai brothers are looking for another to join them on a job, and I’ve promised that I’d go. It’s bound to be incredibly lucrative.
But this female with big, sad eyes has asked me to stay.
To get her pregnant.
To farm with her.
Keffing hell. I’m not a farmer. Being a lowlife thief and a grunt is all I’m good at. I’m the wrong male for this job. If she knew my history, she’d know that, too. I need to tell her no. The timing’s all wrong. Maybe if she’d have approached me a month ago, when I was desperate and low on credits, I’d have jumped at the chance.
A farm AND all the kinky human sex I want? That’s the dream of half the galaxy. I have to admit it’s been so keffing long since I’ve had sex that my seed’s probably nothing but dust. Even now, sex sounds good. Sex sounds real, real good. And I’ve never had a human before. I’m curious. Any male would be.
Except…I can’t say yes to her. I have job offers. Much better job offers than what she’s throwing in my direction. I can’t possibly say yes. Not when I have the opportunity to turn my life around and make a quick fortune.
I just don’t have the guts to tell her ‘no’ just yet. Not when she watches me with those hopeful dark eyes. I can’t tell her no to her face. Maybe I’ll steal away in the middle of the night, when she’s not looking at me with such hope and grim determination. Slink away like the lowlife scum I am and forget I ever met that little bit of a human.
We park the air-sled and she gives me a quick tour around the place, watching me with those hopeful eyes. I try to be judgmental, to pick apart the pl
ace and find things wrong with it but…it’s a good farm. She’s got a nice plot of land bordered by a flowing stream, and the fields are even and stretch as far as the eye can see. Her meat-stock are penned in a nearby pasture and the animals are fat and healthy. She’s got a few mechs and drones gifted to her that do the majority of the farm work and all she has to do is keep them programmed and monitored. I’m a little surprised to see that her mechs are well-cared for, as much as everything else. A lot of people let their mechs go to shit because they’re just a tool. Not this little bit of a human, though. She’s meticulous in everything.
The human—Piper—shows me the house next. It’s a small, domed dwelling, designed to stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. The interior is a little cramped, but she’s made it comfortable with her cast-off furniture and lots and lots of colorful wall hangings. There’s a tiny kitchen, a living area with a large window that looks out onto the fields, and one bedroom.
“Kinda small for a family, don’t you think?” I tease her.
She lifts her chin, defiant. “I purchased a construction kit to add a room or two. I just haven’t gotten to it yet. There’s only so many hours in the day and just one of me. It’s another reason to get married—to get help.” Her hard expression softens. “But mostly just to have someone to talk to.”
Kef me, she knows how to tug at my heart strings. I can handle sass and defiance. I can’t handle that sadness in her eyes. I rub at my neck, gazing at the small house. I need to tell her no. That I’m not staying. That I can’t stay. I’ve got a fortune to make elsewhere.
“Do you want to wash up? I’ve got a shower and the water tanks are full. You can take as long as you like.” Piper heads toward the bedroom and opens the door, then leads me toward the wash room.
I’m a weak male, because of course I want a shower. I’ve spent days in that stinking jail, caged up with strangers—and meat-stock—and I’d love nothing more than to get clean. She offers me a towel and I take it. “Thanks.”