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“Who are you talking to?”
Kim’s sleepy voice makes me turn around.
I whirl about, pleasure making my face crease in a smile. She looks delightfully tousled, her tunic and trou wrinkled from sleeping, her hair crushed flat on one side of her head and tangled. Her eyelids are heavy and she looks so utterly delectable that I cannot decide if I want to squeeze her against me or drag her back to the bed and claim her.
Instead, I hold out the caterpillar. “A little visitor.”
“Oh, a caterpillar? That’s…” She blinks three times, and then falls over in a dead faint.
I let out a shout of horror and return the caterpillar to the nearest plant, then leap to my mate’s side. Kim’s face is utterly pale, and I scoop her in my arms and bound toward the med-center I had installed in the basement of my home. I barge down the stairs and shout orders at the computers, gently laying the tender human on the examination bed. “Do a full medical scan of the human.”
My heart pounds as I lean over her, holding her small hand in mine.
Kim cannot be ripped from me, not when I have finally claimed her as mine. The universe is surely not that cruel.
The scanner gently moves over her, and I watch her pale face, my heart scarcely beating.
“Ailment determined,” the med-scanner finally declares. “Ideopathic syncopal episode.”
That sounds…nightmarish. My poor Kim. I stroke her cheek with one finger, trying to be tender. “Is she dying?” I ask. “What can I do? Does she need a doctor?” I do not think there is one on the planet, but I will empty my coffers to ensure she has the best medical care needed.
“Negative,” the med-scanner replies. “The issue is benign.”
“Benign?” It sounds horrific. I pull up a datapad and search the medical banks…and see that an “ideopathic syncopal episode” means that she fainted. Oh.
“Shall I awaken her?” the med-scanner asks.
“Please.” I squeeze her hand tightly as the med-scanner snaps a small pod under her nose and wafts a stinking chemical into her nostrils. The smell of it is pungent but I do not move from her side. If anything, I hover closer.
I want to see her eyes open.
19
KIM
When I wake up and see the big face looming over mine, I’m confused. I’m flat on my back and just woke up, and I wonder if I’m still in bed. I touched myself—just to take the edge off, of course—to thoughts of the praxiian, trying to get my mind used to the idea, and it turns out…I didn’t hate it.
I didn’t hate it at all.
And the praxiian is gazing down at me with such tender concern on his fierce face that it makes my pulse flutter. Did he know what I was doing? Did he come in here to see…?
But then a robot waves something that smells like a stink bomb under my nose again, and I gag, pushing it aside. I struggle to sit up, and Nassakth supports me with a big hand on my back. I remember now. I woke up from my nap, went to find him…and saw it.
I shudder.
“Are you sick?” Nassakth asks, rubbing my back. “Do you need a drink of water?”
“I’m okay.” I put a hand to my forehead. “I just need a moment.”
“You are not okay. You fainted.” There’s a little growl in his voice. “Why did you faint?”
Do I tell him the truth? “It…it’s stupid.”
Something swats my leg. I glance down and it’s his tail, striking the side of the bed with annoyance. I look around and realize I’m not upstairs at all, but in what looks like a medical clinic of some sort. He did mention he had one downstairs in an antechamber. That must be where I am.
“It will be far stupider if you do not tell me what caused you to faint.” Nassakth doesn’t sound happy. I glance over at him and he’s looking me over with a frown, that tail swishing with irritation.
Did he…did he brush his tail again? The thick, fluffy fur looks awfully smooth and inviting to the touch.
“Well?” he practically snarls.
Right. I rub a hand over my brow again. “It was…the thing on your hand.” I can’t say the word. Just thinking about it makes me feel faint again.
He looks down at his big hand. “Thing?”
“You…you were holding it.” I shudder at the thought of all those arms and legs, that green body, the slinking way it moves, one segment after another, and my gorge rises. “Reminded me of…things.”
Nassakth pauses. “The…bug?”
I press my fingertips to my mouth, because it’s filling with saliva. It’s a stupid reaction, but I can’t help it. “Bad…memories,” I manage to wheeze out.
He stares at me for a moment. Then it dawns on him. “When you were a slave, was your owner a Lrulti?”
