He opens his eyes, and his blink is slow, as if he's forgotten how to do so. Probably has; it's been so long since he's had actual eyeballs that his body has forgotten how to handle such things. The scar tissue around his eyes has been softened, too, and while he won't ever be a raving beauty, the prosthetic eyes should be able to give him perfect vision.
"What do you see?" Tessa asks, an encouraging smile on her face.
The male's eyes focus and he looks over at her. His mouth trembles as if he's going to weep, but no tears come out. He's got no tear ducts left. "I see the prettiest female in the galaxy," he whispers.
She just beams at him, and I'm…oddly pleased. About all of it.The male lingers for a while longer, adjusting his eyesight as Tessa dotes over him and serves him tea. I count his credits and make notes in my files to re-order more parts, but I watch her just as much as I pretend to look busy. When the male finally leaves, his silvery eyes open wide with wonder as he wanders out of my shop, she finally comes to my desk and hops up on the corner, plopping her backside on a stack of inventory sheets.
"You made him so happy," she tells me, beaming. "Is that why you do this?"
"Credits," I say in a gruff voice. She already knows me too well if she's asking that. "Just for credits."
"Mmmhmm." She reaches over and snags the visor out of my hands. It's grossly out of date, and I paid the male far too much for it, but he was elderly…and deserved good eyes. I made the money back on the operation, anyhow. I watch her as she toys with the visor, peering at it. "Just credits. Say…are you hungry?"
"Ravenous," I admit.
"Your assistant kept the food hot. I asked him to. Saved my lunch so I could eat it with you and asked him to get extra because I thought you might be hungry."
She thought about me? Normally I scarf a cold meal between tasks, and the fact that she's looking after me sends a pang of guilty pleasure through my system.
Kef me, but I want to keep her. I imagine every day like this, having my female at my side, quietly taking care of me while I work on improving things that the military has carelessly patched together. I imagine returning home to my apartment with her lively smile in my mind, and her bright chatter. I imagine her sitting on my desk every day, teasing me boldly like she is right now.
I should have never promised to take her to Risda. No one would think twice if Zakoar of the Broken Back kept a slave. The only one that would feel betrayed is Tessa, and she has no power.
But I wouldn't do that to her. I like the sparkle in her eyes. I never want it to go out. "We'll take the food back to my apartment."
"Oh? Tikosa said you might have to do some more work, get the next prosthetic ready for tomorrow's client." She gestures at the door, to the crowded shop on the other side. "I don't mind waiting around—"
How long did she talk to Tikosa, I wonder with jealousy. Does he find her as entrancing as I do? I hate that I'm jealous of a boy—because that's what Tikosa is. He's barely into adulthood, and he's got a sweetheart on the far side of the station as it is. My jealousy is foolishness. It's just because I'm obsessed with her. "We're going home," I repeat firmly. "We're going to put the food back into the warmer, and I'm going to toss you down on my bed and take you so hard that your entire body shivers when I'm inside you."
Her eyes go wide, her pupils darkening. "I like that idea," she whispers. "How long will it take to get back to your apartment?"
Too long. But maybe if the elevator isn't too crowded, I can touch those tight nipples of hers that are already straining against the fabric of her dress. Get her wet for me before we even get to the door. Or…
I get up and close the door to my office, locking it. I turn back toward her, and she moans, arching her back as if she can read my mind, thrusting those pink-tipped breasts at me.
"Skirts up," I tell her, and she obeys instantly.
We don't leave my office for at least another hour.17TESSAIt's terrifying to be so happy.
As one day passes into another, and a week into two, then three, then four, Zakoar and I settle into a routine that seems as natural as breathing. We go into the shop together, and on days that he has clients, I make myself scarce, only popping up to tend to him or to a client that has questions or needs reassurance. Other times, I count inventory for him, ensuring that the pieces he has requested are all there. I make sure he eats lunch. I rub his shoulders when a long surgery ends up taking even longer. I'm fascinated by what he does, and I know it requires a lot of concentration and skill. All of the clients that come in are in awe of his work, and a little terrified of him. On the days he doesn't have clients, we have shorter days in the office, where he shows me the basics of what he does. I learn the tools he uses so I can hand them to him, and sterilize equipment. He teaches me some of the basic symbols of his written language. While I'm a long way from being proficient, I've learned to recognize “on” and “off” and “sterilize” and a few other functions.