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This annoyed me, but maybe just because I was easily frustrated right now. “Cypra,go.”
“Now you’re mad at me?” She looked up at me, reproachful.
“No,” I said, too much protest in it. “What do you care? I’m sure you hate me.”
It was quiet again.
She took a step backwards. Stopped. Looked up at me again. “Did you like it?”
I knew what she meant. She meant, did I like fucking her? “Of course not.”
She drew back at this, as if this had hurt her feelings or something.
Lose me in deep space, what wasthat?“I mean, it felt good or whatever, but it was horrible, all of it. I just don’t like being that guy, being selfish,usingyou. I wanted to want to stop. Like really wished I cared, but I… I fucking hate myself. Goaway.”
She twisted her hands together. “I, um, I kind of liked it?”
I drew back, horrified.
“I mean, not really.” She glanced up at me, saw the look on my face, and looked away with a shudder. “Never mind,” she whispered, and then she scurried off into the ship.
“Don’t run!” I yelled after her, my voice thick.
“Sorry.” She glanced at me over her shoulder, wincing again. She slowed. She disappeared into the ship.
I stood there, breathing too hard. I had another thought about shame. If I were myself, I’d feel ashamed of making her feel bad about running, because that was fucked up. It was on me, not her. I shouldn’t blameherfor whatIdid.
I scratched one of my antlers, trying to summon a feeling of actual shame or actual regret. It was gone. I didn’t apparently have the capacity for such things right now. My cock descended and I became, like, a sociopath? A sociopath rapist.
This wasperfect.
I put my head down and stalked onto the ship.
I was glad of the distraction of hard, heavy, disgusting work. Pulling the bodies off the ship gave me something to do, and it was all-consuming. I didn’t have to concentrate on anything else other than wrapping them up in sheets I found in storage compartments, dragging them out, and burying them.
If I’d cared about anything at all, I would have asked Cypra if she wanted to say anything over their bodies.
But, all things considered, I didn’t.
Once it was done, I knew I should just disappear, leave her be, but perversely, I sought her out.
She was in the sick bay sitting opposite the bed where the unconscious alien was sprawled out. The alien had horns that curled around her face. The rest of her body was covered in a sheet. She looked peaceful at least.
“Bodies are buried,” I said to Cypra, looking her over where she was sitting.
Mine, I thought again, and I wanted to touch her.
I tried to tell myself not to.
But I didn’t listen, because I was a sociopath now, so I went over and traced a finger down the line of her jaw.
She sucked in a breath and looked up at me with wide eyes.
“I’m not myself,” I said in a gravelly voice. “I’m sorry about this.” I didn’t stop touching her. “You just… you feel like you belong to me.”
She sucked in another sharp breath and gazed up at me with half-lidded eyes. “Do I?” she whispered.
I nodded.
