Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Chelsea licks her lips. “Will you be heading back this way?”
“Not for a long time, probably.” I hate to be so brutally honest, but the truth is, we rarely return to job sites. Something tells me we won’t be returning to this one anytime soon.
“Then tonight is our last night together?” She slides off the table and moves toward me.
I put a hand on the back of her head, tugging her to my chest and hugging her close. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d gotten more notice.”
“It’s okay. It was bound to happen, right?” Her voice is faint, but I did just give her six orgasms. Maybe she’s feeling weak.
I chuckle. “Well, I doubt anyone would want a big praxiian metalworker to stay here forever.” I lean down to nuzzle at her head and that musky, intense scent wafts through my nose again. My cock rouses once more and I groan with hunger. Picking Chelsea up, I place her back on the table, this time on her back, and push her thighs into the air before settling my face between them.
“Wait,” she manages. “Dinner—”
“Having it.”
Nine
CHELSEA
It’s hours and hours later before the noli wears off, and by the time it does, both Hrrrusek and I are limp, boneless puddles in the bed. I’m exhausted and sweaty despite the shower I just took, and next to me, the big guy snores louder than ever before. He sleeps like the dead, sprawled out, his tail twitching between us. I’m wide awake, though, and staring at the ceiling.
I had no idea praxiians had that kind of stamina. I mentioned to Hrrrusek after our ninth (tenth?) orgasm that I’d worn noli as a perfume and he’d told me he’d heard of it, but we were both surprised at how potent it was. I’m going to be walking funny in the morning, but it doesn’t matter.
For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling defeated. Terrified. Distraught.
Because Hrrrusek is leaving me. He’s leaving to go somewhere dangerous…and he didn’t even entertain the thought of staying. I want to feel betrayed, but I can’t blame him. He’s here on a job. This is a human refuge, and the only praxiian I’ve seen here is married to a human woman and they live far out from town with their kids. There’s a couple of splices that look like they have praxiian blood, but again, mated to locals.
And Hrrrusek has never given me any indication that he wants to be mated.
I never asked, of course. I like being my own person after years of being owned. I liked my freedom. I liked having no responsibilities other than my own…but now I’m afraid I’m ruined. Because all I can think about is Hrrrusek, and what my bed is going to feel like without him in it. What it’s going to be like cooking for one again.
How lonely it’s going to be.
My thoughts grow increasingly intrusive, too. He’s going somewhere dangerous. A new planet. Venomous snakes. Jungle. Who’s going to look after him there? He’s got a few scars peppering his body from his job, and I’d tsked over them and kissed them and paid them no mind. I’m very aware of them now, though. He has a dangerous job. He gets hazard pay.
And…I hate it. I hate all of it.
Tears leak from my eyes and I swipe them away, doing my best to cry quietly in the darkness. Who’s going to make him lunch or ensure that he has a good dinner after a long day at work? Who’s going to keep him company or play sticks with him? Who’s going to bait his hooks?
More tears slip down my cheeks and I hate them, because I’m both terrified for him and sad for me. I don’t want him to go.
For the first time in forever, my future feels miserable, and it’s all because Hrrrusek won’t be in it.
Ten
HRRRUSEK
It’s raining on Risda III, and that feels appropriate for my last day here.
It’s early morning, the sky dreary and spitting water down on us as we stand, waiting for the foreman. He’s haggling over the cost of transport for our gear and for us, since the price changed the moment the freighter landed and saw just how much equipment we’re bringing with us. Count on the foreman to cut corners and try to save a few credits.
I don’t keffing care. I should be annoyed at the delay, or that we’re getting rained on and the bag with all my things in it is soaking wet. I should care about a lot of things. I just…don’t.
It’s hard to care about anything when I’m leaving Chelsea behind.
The others praxiians on our team jostle and try to squeeze under an awning to prevent the rain from dripping on them. We’re not a fan of water, us praxiians. But I can’t be keffed to get out of the rain. It suits me to have my fur flattened and wet. It suits me to be miserable.