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“You’re too quiet, but your thoughts are loud and clear. What is it?”
Blowing out a long breath, I rub my hand down my face. I’m not sure if it’s being clones or because we spend so much time together, but we’ve always been able to read each other’s emotions. Sometimes too well.
I haven’t been able to get the female out of my head since the moment I laid eyes on her. And the way my body is responding to her… making me tense and achy.Hard.It’s confusing. I can’t remember the last time I’ve hadanyreaction to a female, especially not one this strong, that wasn’t chemically induced.
I figured part of me was ruined after revolutions of being a sex slave. To have it all come rushing back after one look at a strange female is… concerning.
Beside me Vruk sighs loudly, his steely gaze trained one me.
“You stay here. I’m going to check on her.”
I relax back into my seat, more than happy to let him deal with the female. In the meantime, maybe I can figure out what these strange feelings mean.
* * *
Vruk
* * *
I’m shakingmy head as I make my way to the back of the cruiser, where the quarters are. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brettin act like this before and I wonder what’s gotten into him. Is the female somehow bringing back sore memories from our time as slaves?
I doubt that’s it. There have been females since then, albeit it’s been a while, but he’s never behaved this way with any of them.
When I get to the door at the far end of the hall I pause. Pressing my ear to the alloy, I listen for a moment. Expecting to hear… something. Sniffling, perhaps. Soft feminine sobs. Or raging. But there is nothing.
Disengaging the lock, I let the door slide open and stand frozen in the doorway.
The female is sitting on the edge of the large captain’s bed. When the door opens, she turns her head and our eyes meet. Eyes the color of rich soil, framed with thick dark lashes. Her hair is the color of fire and cut short. The back trimmed close to her head with the front longer and tousled. She quirks a thin brow, the same color as the short hair on her head.
“I don’t suppose there is a bathroom somewhere in this place?” She asks. “I’ve had to pee for hours.”
Bathroomdoesn’t translate clearly through my implant, butpeedoes.
Snapping out of whatever spell she’s managed to cast over me, I push myself into the room and cross to the opposite wall where the door to the cleanser slides open and the light flicks on for me. My hand automatically goes to the switch for the toilet attachment.
“Oh, thank god!” The female breathes, pushing past me. Before the toilet has fully engaged, she’s already got Brettin’s shirt hiked around her hips and she settles herself on the seat.
“Ahhh,” she moans. “I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold it.”
I’m shocked at her brashness. I don’t think I’ve ever had a female take care of her functions right in front of me before. Usually, they are shy about that part. My head is screaming for me to turn away, that I should give her privacy. But I’m frozen in place once more when I notice the marks around her delicate wrists where her skin has been rubbed raw and purple bruises mar the creamy paleness.
She urinates for what seems like an awfully long time, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her. When she finally finishes, she remains seated, although she tilts her head back and forth as if she’s looking for something.
“Um,” she’s twisting on the seat, and I keep getting glimpses of a fiery thatch of hair between her legs. Try as I might, I simply can’t look away. “Uh, what do you use for toilet paper here?”
The strange question is what finally draws my attention away from the curiosity between her legs. “Paper?”
“Um, what do you use to—” her knees snap shut when my eyes drift there once again. “—to clean after using the toilet?”
I watch her eyes grow big when I cross the room in two strides, and she pulls her arms around her chest when I lean over her.
“Tap this,” I instruct, brushing my finger against the toggle embedded in the side of the bowl.
“Oh. What does that do—eeeeekkKKKK!”
She screams and practically levitates off the seat when the spray of water hits her. Followed by a jet of air to dry her.
Her breaths are coming fast, and she clutches at her chest with one of her hands, before she starts to laugh. “Oh! It’s like a bidet.”
