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“Mina.” Mycrul’s voice is low and intimidating, his expression terrifying.
“Oh, just a moment.” She moves to his side and the big alien leans over her, whispering. She shakes her head at him, hissing a whisper in return, and then they both look over at me.
My skin prickles and I wonder if I should go get my stun-stick after all. I edge closer to the front door again.
Mina leans in towards her mate and touches his arm, shaking her head. Then, she pats his hand and gives him a firm look. “It’s decided.”
The expression he shoots her way is full of frustration. “Mina…”
“It’s decided,” she calls back, marching toward me again.
Instead of getting angry, the big alien just makes a huffing sound of annoyance—or amusement—and heads for the barn. It’s clear that Mycrul might be twice her size, but Mina is in charge of the relationship. She returns to my side, a careful expression on her face. “We’ll join him in the barn in a moment, but I wanted to ask you something. Mycrul doesn’t want me to get involved, but I can’t leave it alone.”
“What?” I ask, defensive. I cross my arms over my chest and take yet another step towards the door.
Mina purses her lips, and now she looks like an angry bird instead of a determined one. “You said you don’t have a mate, right?”
“Why?” My tone is wary.
“Your door smells like praxiian, and I’m afraid you’re not going to like what that means.”
Oh. Mycrul must have smelled it. I blush, biting my lip. “Um, I have a boyfriend.”
Her eyes widen. “Please tell me he’s—“
“Praxiian. Yes. I’m aware of the door thing.”
She grabs my arm, a look of sheer relief on her face. “Oh, thank fuck. I thought we’d just stumbled into an ugly situation and my husband was going to have to handle shit. That sort of thing is a real bitch to explain to the Port custodians, too. They already give him the stink-eye.”
“They do?”
“Long story, but I guess we’ve got time.” Mina gives me a bright look, gesturing at the barn. “Shall we go sit while he works?”
For the next two hours, Mycrul is completely silent, working on maintenance while Mina chatters. She tells me about their past, about how they were both slaves in the same compound and she’d had to clean up Mycrul’s cell after him. How he was cloned from a mixture of gladiators or something, and so he has a bit of a reputation.
“He doesn’t fight anymore,” Mina explains to me, giving her husband an absolutely doting look. “Now he’s a vet tech. He loves working with animals. The people not so much, but the animals are great.” A smile curves her mouth. “Mycrul hates people.”
“I like one,” he says, not looking up from the machine he’s got his hands in.
Her smile grows broader, and something about their relationship makes me wistful. It’s clear that even though they’re opposites in many ways, they get along great. I catch Mina watching him work, and sometimes he looks over at her when she talks, a hint of a smile on his ugly face. She keeps talking, speaking of their captivity and how they’d first met.
“I’d never paid attention to a single man, alien or not, after I was snatched,” Mina continues. “But when I met Mycrul, it was easy to realize he was the one.”
“How did you know?” I find myself asking, and I think of Jrrru and the way he looked at me when he came on my door. The way his shoulders hunched and he gritted my name out in a half-purr. The lurid pink head of his cock, wet with his release. All of these things are burned into my mind.
She gives a little shrug and then devours her husband with her eyes again. “Because no matter what happened, no matter how angry or violent he was towards others, I knew I was safe with him. That he’d never harm a hair on my head. He’s my safe place.”
I think of Jrrru, and how safe I feel when he’s around. Maybe I don’t need an arsenal behind my door and pit traps dug in the yard to feel safe.
Maybe I just need to let Jrrru in.
Twelve
JRRRU
“Why are you even here today?” Hrrrusek asks me, parking his welding suit and leaning over the side to glare at me. “If you’re not going to pay attention to the work, go home.”
My ears get hot and flatten against my skull. I hate being called out by my brother, and I hate even more that he’s right. “It’s fine,” I grumble. “I’m working.”
“I almost got your tail with the welder again,” he points out. “I can still smell the scorched fur from earlier.”
He’s not wrong. It was a narrow miss and the singed fur reminds me of that. I’ll probably have a heat blister under one of the metal decorative rings on my tail, too, but I deserve it. Truth is, I wasn’t paying attention. I keep thinking of Tabitha, and how she’s handling having strangers over at her homestead. I know she hates that sort of thing. Is she scared? Anxious? Does she need me at her side?
