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I swallow thickly and take his hand. “It would be my honor, Xavian.”
36XAVIAN
Emily is the sort of woman I wish I’d dated back at the height of my team’s popularity. The sort of woman who isn’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit or stand up for herself. Most of the women who threw themselves at me and my teammates back then were either clingers or Terraball groupies who were only interested in adding notches to their bedposts. My teammates seemed to love the attention—and the sex—these women brought.
But I hated it.
No one was interested in learning about the real me. They were mostly interested in my ears, my long hair, my height, and most of all, my knot. Other species find bedding a Terran for the first time hot. They hear stories about us and our cocks, and then it doesn’t matter what comes out of our mouths or what we have inside our hearts. The only thing that matters to them is the knot.
It's deHumanizing. It’s humiliating. And I swore to myself after that first painful hookup—where the woman literally wham-bam-thank-you-man’d me—I’d never do it again. She told me she needed to take a shower, and I took a nap. When I woke up, she was already gone. Didn’t even leave a note. The memory is a sour one.
But Emily couldn’t be further from a groupie. I take her to a late lunch at Morrigan’s Court, tucked away underneath the shade of several sycamore trees. Patio dining isn’t very busy at this hour, so we jump at the chance to eat at a table all to ourselves, closer to the pool so she can also watch the ducks.
“I can’t believe they killed Gunther off at the end of season four,” she says before taking a sip of her sparkling elderflower juice. “I want to talk to the writers about that one.”
I chuckle as I run my fingers through my hair, brushing the strands away from my face. “That was definitely a choice. I thought he and Bo were end game.”
“Me too!” Her eyes widen mid-sip, and she all but drops the glass back down onto the table. I love it when she gets like this. So passionate she starts gesticulating and talking with her hands.
We chat about the show for the next thirty minutes. Emily is so enthralled by the discussion that the waitress doesn’t even bother to interrupt us to take our orders. Only when Emily finally seems to be out of breath does the waitress approach us.
She’s a pretty Acara woman dressed in a black T-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and loose-fitting pants that allow room for her long, fluffy tail to emerge from the back. I order the cedar plank salmon while Emily stares at the menu floating between us on the terminal.
“Get whatever you want,” I say. “I’m paying.”
Emily blinks as she looks up at me. “You sure?”
She makes a lot more than I do. I’m aware, but also … I want to treat her for once.
“Positive,” I say.
The Acara patiently flicks her tail from side to side, then smiles at Emily and says, “Our cheeseburgers are especially good here. Our chef is from Philadelphia, so he knows all the ins and outs of authentic Terra cuisine.”
And now we’re at a crossroads. Emily takes in the Acara’s suggestion, and her face goes through several rapid emotions. Fear, intrigue, lust, guilt. I reach across the table and take her hand into mine.
“Whatever you want,” I say. And I mean it, too. The last thing I want is for her to be stressed out about food on our date. She has to know that I will never, ever pressure her. Sure, I may try to get her to drop her guard back at home and try new things. But out here? This day is all about her. She’s been through enough turmoil.
She nibbles her bottom lip for a few seconds, then looks up at the waitress and says, “Yeah. I think I’ll try the burger, then.”
“Perfect! They’ll be right out!” the waitress chirps, then glides off with our orders.
Emily swallows hard and stares off at something in the distance.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I ask, my hand still wrapped around hers.
“Do you think they’ll bring Victor back?” she murmurs. “I mean, they brought David back in season two when we thought he was dead in season one.”
My heart swells with pure affection for this woman. I squeeze her hand and smile.
“I don’t know. He seemed pretty dead. It’ll take a lot for the writers to convince us that was their plan all along,” I say, nodding sagely.
For the sake of not ruining the momentum of our date, I don’t tell her how proud I am of her for the huge step she just took. But damn am I fucking proud of her.
* * *
“So, what’s next?” I ask as Emily walks close to me, tucked underneath my arm. “Want to check out the embassies? That music store? Anything else?” We’ve walked the length of this wing of the Cradle so many times, I’m surprised she hasn’t complained her feet hurt. Because mine definitely do.
Emily looks up at me and smiles. “Mm. I’m not quite ready for our date to end just yet,” she says. “And if we go to the embassies, I’m afraid that would end the date. I mean, who goes to an embassy on a first date?”
