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Either that or tear a few throats out.
"Is it me?" Bee asks, hitching the blanket tighter around her damp skin. "Should I go?"
I shake my head violently. "If you do…I will chase you."
I expect her to get upset—or afraid—at my words. But Bee only wrinkles her nose. "It's not much of a chase. You could catch me in three breaths."
That is the point. Of course then what would I do with her once I have her? Watch her recoil in disgust from my touch? I know I do not look like the mesakkah, with their decorated horns and strong faces. I am different and hideous. I have big teeth. I am covered in spikes. I drool, because my mouth does not properly close over my tusks. Bee would hate being touched by me.
That is why I am agitated.
I want her and I know I cannot have her. Bee is soft and pretty and smells so keffing good she makes my mouth water. She is clever and wily and any male would want to claim her as a mate. She could have her pick of the males here—and she has Riffin, who makes her cunt remain dry as bone. She drifts with arousal near me…but is it for me? Or one of the other guards?
I war with my thoughts.
If I make her share breath with me, then I will know for sure if this arousal scent is for me. But if I kiss her and she is disgusted, I will lose her forever. I will not have anything to reach for any longer, and without an incentive, I will not feel that urgent need to win. I will kef things up and then Bee will abandon me.
I want Bee's friendship more than I want her kiss, I realize. I want both, but if I have to choose, I will choose Bee's affection. I crave the sound of her voice and her gentle laughter more than anything else in the universe. I know that when Bee is near and smiling, that everything is all right. I need that in my life more than I need a few unwilling kisses.
It pains me to admit, "We need a new bargain."
Bee isn't paying attention to my words. She's watching me pace, her small, dark brows furrowed. "Won't you sit down, Victor?"
I shake my head, distracted. "There is no good place for me to sit. This house is made for humans. But you and I, we should—"
"Nonsense," Bee says, and that bossy tone is in her voice. She gestures at the chair. "This won't work for you?"
I eye it, amused that I am yet again at her command, despite my vows to do otherwise. "Do you truly think it will hold me?"
She studies the chair. "No, I guess you're right. Well, that's frustrating. The bed is probably the wrong size, too." She moves past me in the small house, studying the furniture, and then her gaze alights on the spilled-open trunk. She bends over next to it, rummaging through the contents, and I catch a glimpse of brown bosom and deep cleavage and I have been lying to myself, because I do want to see what is under that blanket…but only if she wants to show me.
Bee grabs a fist-sized plas-wrapped package with an “aha” and holds it out to me, her free hand still clutching her blanket closed. "Do me a favor and open that."
I do as she asks and the compressed item spills into my hands, fluffing up. It's a pillow, like the one that she insisted they give me for my bedding, even though I have no memories of using one in the past.
Bee shuts the trunk, turns around and promptly takes the pillow out of my hands and then sets it atop the trunk with a pat. "There. Now you have a decent seat until we can get something else figured out."
Sit on her pillow? But it is for her head. "Bee, I cannot do that."
"Why? Do you have spikes on your butt? I didn't think you did." Her pulse thrums, speeding up, and I wonder what about my spikes makes her heart race. Fear? She tries to peek around me, to look at my backside.
"It is your pillow." I pick it up and offer it to her. "You need it."
Bee takes it from my hands and puts it back on the trunk. "You need someplace comfortable to sit more than I need a pillow. I'll be fine without one. Now sit down before I start screaming at you."
I laugh at the image of the delicate human shrieking in my face in frustration. "No, you won't."
But she's gone still. She gazes up at me, wide-eyed. "Did you just laugh, Victor?"
I scowl, because she's making me nervous.
Bee's look is one of delight, though. She beams up at me and plants her hand on my chest. "Don't be so grouchy. I like your laughter. It sounds happy, and it's the first time I've heard it. Of course it's going to make me pause. Now sit, and you can tell me what's troubling you."
