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Actually, talking with Barlia is a lot of fun. She’s absolutely the prickliest female I’ve ever met, meeting each flirting word I toss her way with a hiss of response. She’s smart, though. Her mind is sharp and I can see it constantly working. She doesn’t tell me anything about herself, so I monopolize the conversation, telling her about my brother and his mate, and our life as metalworkers. I tell her about the sewer line I just repaired and how I had to crawl on my elbows through waste. That makes her smirk, as if my discomfort brings her joy, and she has the cutest evil little smile of delight. It goes well with her incredible scent, and by the time the sun goes down, I’m absolutely smitten with this creature.
She makes a soup for dinner, tossing acerbic comments my way as she cooks, and it smells wonderful. Chelsea tends to bake only—she likes sweets—but this soup smells meaty and incredible, and by the time Barlia leans over me to feed me a mouthful, my stomach is growling. I eat every bite and want a second bowl, but she’s firm that I need to be careful with my gut or she’ll be cleaning up another mess.
She’s forgotten all about her weapons by the time night falls, and they sit in the kitchen as we talk and she cups a mug full of soup in her hands.
Eventually, Barlia unties my feet long enough that I can go to the lavatory and empty out. When I’m done, I obediently head back to the living area and lie back down on the floor. That earns me a raised eyebrow—which I’ve learned from living with Chelsea means she feels skepticism.
“You can keep the stun-stick on me,” I tell her. “But I don’t think I have the strength to go back home just to get loaded with noli again.” Even the thought makes me miserable. Chelsea’s homestead won’t be safe until they do the laundry and she airs out the house. “I probably need to go into Port and get a room.”
“Without a shirt and with a mess in your pants?” Barlia asks.
“You’re right. I should take my pants off right now.”
Barlia just gives me a sour look, but her cheeks get pink. “If you let me tie you up again, you can sleep on the floor.”
She’s lucky I’m not really a criminal, because I could tear these bonds free in a moment and have her under me in the space of a breath. The thought is vaguely terrifying to realize, and now I want to stay if only so I can protect her. “I would like that very much.”
“I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”
“Can I shower?”
“You can leave if you’d rather,” she retorts. “But all you’re getting from me is a blanket and a pillow.”
I love how sharp she is with her words, like they’re weapons to surround herself with as well as the physical ones. It’s adorable and intriguing. “A pillow would be lovely. Thank you.”
I don’t try anything as she ties my legs again—with the same awful, easy-to-unravel knots as before—and then she covers me with a blanket and puts a pillow under my head. Her scent is all around me as she does, and my cock stirs and hardens once more, even though I thought the noli had worn off.
I’m going to have to come back here, I realize. I want to get to know this female better.
I want to see if I’m as affected by her without a hint of noli in my system.
And more than anything, I just want to have more of the push-pull conversation with her, because it excites me more than anything has excited me in a long keffing time.
Who knew that Risda III would have such a treasure living here?
TABITHA
When I wake up in the morning, I unlock my bedroom door and set aside the stun-stick I kept at hand all night. I undo multiple locks and take down the bar and peer into the living room, because all is quiet, and I thought Jrrru would be a noisy morning guest.
Instead, I find the blanket is neatly folded on the couch atop the pillow, the ropes I used to tie his hands and legs together are now forming a bow, and there’s a sad-looking wildflower perched atop the blanket.
Jrrru really does think highly of himself, I decide, even as I pick up the flower and sniff it.
Six
JRRRU
No matter how much I linger, I never see Barlia around town.
There’s always an odd job or two that needs to be done around Port, even if you’re praxiian. While I’m not loved by the locals, I make sure that the Port custodians are aware of my movements at all times. It feels a bit intrusive, but then I see the frightened looks that the human females shoot me. And that they give the same frightened looks to any male avian, ooli, or mesakkah that gets too close. In short, some of them are scared of all males.
