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2
Manik
“I have made you some clothing. But I must admit, human, I am curious about you.”
Her eyes dart from me to a random point on the wall and then back to mine. She tried to escape in some small way, but her own vision pulled her back.
“Curious in what way?”
“Curious as to your taste in pleasure. Curious as to your capacity for sexual connection.”
She has changed color. She has gone quite pink, almost as though she’s cooked herself. Her body temperature is clearly elevated. Her pupils are wider too, their dark centers locking on me as the primal parts of her brain desperately assess me as a potential mate or a threat. I am both.
I step closer to her. I want to see what my proximity does. She watches me, her eyes widening evermore the closer I get to her. Finally, I am within an arm’s length. I reach out and let my fingers trace the outline of her chin. She does not recoil from me. Usually they do. Even the ones close to my species. Even the ones who are known to sleep with any male for coin. I have been rejected by many frightened females over time. It is not my physical appearance that causes them to pull away. It is my reputation and something inside me, something temperamental or perhaps spiritual that frightens them to their core.
The human isn’t frightened. Or perhaps she is, but there is something else drawing her to me. Something more powerful than the fear. I see the corners of her lips turning up in what might be a smile of invitation — or is it a challenge?
“How long has it been since you knew pleasure, human?”
“Before I left the ship.”
I need to be more specific with the question. “How long has it been since you knew pleasure with another creature?”
“Oh.” Her face falls, and her voice turns from a clear sound to an almost indistinguishable mumble.
I slip my fingers beneath her chin and tilt it up.
“I did not hear you.”
“A couple of years,” she says, as if the admission brings her shame.
“A long time for a human female in her prime.”
“Yes. I know. You don’t have to go on about it.” She becomes slightly snappy before remembering who she is talking to. Then her attitude changes. “I mean. It’s a sensitive subject.”
“Humans are pair-bonding animals, are they not? Did you have a mate?”
“Yeah…” Again her eyes slide away from mine and her entire body looks as though it wants to slump and sink below the blanket and never emerge. The topic makes her sad, and that means somebody made her sad. And that makes me angry.
“If I was to find the male who put that expression on your face, I would turn him into a drying rack.”
“Oh,” she says, surprised, terrified, disgusted, and perhaps even yes, a little pleased. “Well, that would make him the most useful he’d ever been to anybody.”
She was clearly hurt by this man. I feel the urge to kill him and a hundred other men besides.
“Forget him. You will never be burdened with the deficiencies of another mate again. Now you are mine. I will make sure you are satisfied in every way possible.”
Lyssa
I think this wanted alien known only for his brutality just told me that he intends on fucking me. Yes, no, that’s definitely what he’s going to do. Do I have a choice? Do I want one?
This is a very morally gray situation. On my side of the equation, obviously, I shouldn’t be sleeping with my quarry. My job is to bring him in for justice and money. And even if it wasn’t, I should be making better choices in sexual mates. On the other hand, fucking look at him. If he wants me, there’s no way out.
“You are afraid of me,” he says.
“Yes. You’re terrifying.”
“I am, aren’t I?” He smiles, very pleased that I noticed and said so. This is a creature who wants to be feared. He enjoys his reputation. He might even enjoy scaring me.
