"Oh, okay. You can come in if you like?"
And intimidate her in her domicile? My training suggested it would only frighten the humans more. "No, I do not want."
"I see."
"I am quite content out here." I nod and turn away, heading for the barn.
23
LUCY
Good god almighty, the man is shy.
I frown in frustration at the knife I'm holding, wondering if I looked too aggressive. Do I look like a crazy, knife-wielding man-hungry human? Maybe that's why he's avoiding me. He wasn't very chatty on the way here, and I was hoping he'd loosen up if we rode together. Instead, he just clammed up even more. It's frustrating, because I like what I've seen of the man, and I want to see more so I can like even more…but he seems determined to avoid me.
Perhaps I've misread him and the situation and everything and I should give up on my silly little crush. Turning back to the cutting board on the counter, I continue chopping the tahaari root, attacking it with renewed energy. When in doubt, I bake. Tahaari root is a local tuber that tastes a lot like cinnamon and yams, so I'm going to make a pie.
If that man doesn't like my pie…well, I'll just eat it. And then I'll give up.
I glance out the window and inwardly wince as he heads for the barn, his beeping doohickey in his hands. Scanning for DNA to see if I've had intruders. It's a fruitless task, since I know very well that I lied about being bothered just so he could swing by and I could spend time with him. I thought maybe if I got him alone, I could break through some of that shyness. Make him realize what a fine-ass woman I am and how he needs to snap me up.
I sigh, looking around my spotless tiny house. No one's gonna snap me up, it seems.
I had such high hopes, too. Cleaned my house, wore new panties, and sprayed fresh perfume. My old master—a crotchety old mesakkah—told me that humans stank to alien noses, and so I constantly had to wear perfume around him and change my clothes. I've been doing the same around Rektar in the hopes that he won't mind my scent, but it doesn't seem to be working. I even brought my dirty laundry out to the barn so he wouldn't smell it if he came inside.
I cringe, realizing he's about to go to the barn and get a big ol' whiff of my dirty clothes. Shit. I stare down at the root I'm cutting and want to throw it all aside. Why bother? I'm just going to end up alone.
Frustrated, I put my knife aside and pick up a bit of root, nibbling on the chunk as I glance out the window to the barn. If the man isn't interested, I wish he'd just give me a sign.
REKTAR
The barn smells like her.
A groan escapes me as I walk through the doors and Lucy's scent pierces through the myriad smells. Her unpleasant perfume is there, and so is the scent of the meat-stock she keeps in her barn, but I stagger toward the basket of colorful clothing near the doors, hunting one particular scent. It's a scent that can't be ignored, no matter the other smells around it. I reach into the basket and pull out what must be an undergarment of some kind.
It smells thickly of musk.
I groan again, closing my eyes. Put it down, Rektar. Just put it down and walk away. It isn't yours.
I don't put it down, though. I put her undergarment in my pocket, keeping it for later so I can do shameful, shameful things to it. Lucy's scent is incredible, wafting through the air around me. If I close my eyes, I can imagine touching her slick cunt, feeling those juices for myself as she soaks my fingers and my tongue…
…and kef me, I'm as hard as steel.
I fight the urge to drop my trou right here. Just wrap that scrap of material around my cock and rub myself until I come. But…I have to get answers for her first. What kind of protector would I be if I ignored her needs?
Needs. Just thinking about Lucy's needs makes my knees weak.
I must focus. Must do my duty. Lucy's safety depends on it. She's counting on me to make her safe, to check over her farm and ensure she will not be harmed. Resolutely, I start my scanner up again, determined to ignore the enticing scent wafting around me. I growl as it chirps with confirmation, pulling up a DNA match for a local smuggler who's been in and out of Port's tiny jail cell more often than I like to think. The fact that he's staking out Lucy makes me angry. So angry I could break something. Clenching my jaw, I scan for other profiles, and when I'm satisfied that only one is a problem, I return to her door and knock.