Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
He glances over at me. “Your rations are unacceptable,” he says.
“I mean, they’re not great,” I agree. “But I’m told all of this stuff is poison.”
“Hm,” he nods. “Then we will both have plain rations.”
We walk up to the counter where the stunning Lunch Lad with his four arms, his crooked smile, and his hair cut to fit under a white hat for sanitation is waiting to serve us while wearing a blue t-shirt or whatever the aliens would call it that barely has enough fabric to cover his massive muscles.
The Lunch Lad is a job that rotates through the juniors. I don’t know this guy’s name, but I would bet he has an indefinite number of girlfriends.
“Two gruel,” Drak says.
“I’m sorry, sir?” the Lunch Lad says, flexing in his confusion. He is very easy on the eyes… I need to rein in my desire. It’s getting all over everything. I think I am getting too used to having multiple orgasms a day. I didn’t get put in the stimulating sucker chair and it’s starting to show.
“I am eating with my human companion and we will endure the same slop,” he says.
“Oh,” the Lunch Lad smiles. “Then two plates of our finest slop it is.”
Drak takes our tray of slop while I nervously play with the end of my leash and we take a seat in the cafeteria.
I’ve never been the best at small talk, but he doesn’t seem like a small talk sort of guy, so we sit there for a couple of moments, both picking at our slop before I ask the question I really want to ask.
“So you and Arkon have known each other a really long time.”
“Both born of noble families. He was a war hero, as I have mentioned, and as I am sure he has alluded to…”
“He never mentions it. I didn’t know he’d even been to battle until you said that.”
Drak smirks at me. “His ship was attacked when he was bringing you back here. You didn’t notice then?”
I think back. “I mean, he was very calm under pressure,” I admit. “I suppose I thought that’s just how he was.”
“He was that way because he was a squadron commander of over a thousand fighter units. Arkon has been decorated more times over than you have had hot meals in your short human life.”
“Wow,” I say. “I wonder what else I don’t know about him. He doesn’t talk about himself much. Most of our relationship is built on…” I trail off because I don’t want to say sex and spanking in a cafeteria.
“Relationships have to be built on something,” Drak muses. “He is a good, honorable warrior, and he believes in the cause. That is why, in spite of his tendency to soften in the wrong places, I enjoy him.”
“Am I one of the softening in the wrong places?”
“Probably,” Drak says, his expression not changing much at all. “But that is his business, and I suppose, to a lesser extent, yours.”
“Why a lesser extent me?”
“Because you have been at a disadvantage since you came here. You are human. You are smaller, weaker, not as complex, and you are his employee. The moment he laid fingers on you, you melted for him. The machine bears the data out. You were primed to give him a strong sexual response. You’ve been his from the moment you laid eyes on him, I’d bet. In some senses, humans really aren’t much more than sex-generating machines.”
I change my mind back again. He is an asshole.
CHAPTER 7
Evie
Later that night, I am lying in bed with Arkon, his hands playing with my naked body in a slow, sensual way. The rest of the day was not as interesting. Arkon had a lot of data to parse, Drak went off to do whatever it is he does, and I was left to my own devices, sitting around, thinking about things to steal, then deciding against it because I knew how much trouble I would be in if I got caught again.
He really is too pretty to be a war hero. I guess, if I look beyond the stunning features, the incredible hair, and the dragon eyes, I can sense the resolve and cool temper that fits with someone who commanded thousands and fought in wars. I think of warriors as big scarred-up guys, but I guess if you only ever piloted ships there wouldn’t be many scars. From what I’ve seen you either survive unscathed or it’s the end of you.
“You were good for Drak today,” he says. “I appreciated that. I’d kill him if he put a finger on you, so I am glad you did not give him a reason to.”
That bloody statement gives me the opportunity to ask what I have been waiting and wanting to ask.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a war hero?”