I want to ask if she’s stressed, but I stop myself. Of course she is. I just told her a short time ago that she betrayed me and she’s not staying. And I refuse to feel guilty about it, either.
She saves me from coming up with a response by ladling a bowl full of the food and offering it to me with a spoon. “I hope you like it. It’s the least I can do to apologize.”
I grunt a response and shove the spoon into my mouth. Flavor bursts across my tongue and I have to bite back a groan. This is…better than anything I’ve ever tasted. I eat another mouthful, and it’s just as tasty as the first. Spicy, hot, and delicious. “This is good,” I admit. “What is it?”
The female beams with pleasure. “Back at home we have something we call ‘chili.’ Your food and spices are similar, so I thought I would make some. It was one of Leandra’s favorites.” She gets a sad expression on her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically, and then curse inwardly. I shouldn’t be apologizing to her. She lied to me.
She smiles again, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It’s all right. I just miss her. For so long, she was my only friend and I haven’t had anyone to talk to.”
I eat another spoonful of the delicious soup and then admit, “I’m not much for talking.” Before she can say anything in response to that, I add, “Which is why you’re not staying.”
Her face grows pale and she gets very still, her gaze focusing on the bowl in my hands. “I see.”
“No. You don’t. This isn’t about company. I wanted another farm hand.” And a wet cunt to fuck, but I don’t bring that up. “You aren’t going to be able to help me much with that sort of thing. And I understand your situation, so I don’t want you panicking. I’m a fair man. I won’t send you back.”
The tension in her small shoulders relaxes. “You won’t?”
“No.” I gesture with my spoon. “I’m not the right one for you, but there’s plenty of men on this planet that need a mate and won’t care that you’re small. There’s a gathering in a few days. We’ll go there and find you a man.”
She goes still again. “But what if I’d rather stay with you?”
I scowl. “Why would you want to do that? I just told you I’m not much for company.”
“I don’t mind that. You treat me like a person. Even when you’re mad at me.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Do you know how rare that is? When Leandra was mad at me, she’d act like I was a misbehaving pet, not a human being with an intelligent mind. I loved her, but she couldn’t see past who I was. I’m happy to stay with you. I’ll be quiet if you need quiet.”
“I’m ugly,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “And stubborn. And cheap.”
“You have real food in your kitchen, not just bags of processed ingredients. That’s not that cheap. And I don’t spend much money, I promise. I have my own allowance that Leandra gave me.” Her growing smile shows that little dent in her cheek again. Does she ever stop smiling, I wonder? “And I don’t mind stubborn. And I don’t think you’re ugly at all.”
Now I can feel my skin growing hot and uncomfortable. I want to hide my face away, but I resist. “Scarred up from the war,” is all I say.
“Which is a perfectly noble sort of thing, and I think you look just fine,” she tells me again. “Besides, I know humans aren’t exactly attractive to your people.” She shrugs those dainty shoulders. “Lord knows why they keep kidnapping us for sex.”
Looking at her move, I know why. It’s the small, plush bow of her mouth. It’s the delicacy of her wrists under the sleeves of her tunic. It’s the fragility of her form and the pronounced thrust of her breasts that are twice the size of any mesakkah female’s. There’s something about her that speaks to a male’s baser nature. Of course a man would want to fuck a female like this. Even I’m starting to get uncomfortably hard at the thought. What would she look like underneath me, with her golden-brown hair tumbling over those slim shoulders?
I grunt as the image hits me with force. No, Emvor. You’re not keeping her.
When I look up, she’s watching me, a curious look on her face. “Everything okay?”
I nod curtly and point at the chair I left vacant for her. “Sit. Eat.”
She does, and when she sits down next to me, I see she’s wearing trou, just like I am. Except they cling to her slender hips and thighs and outline a bottom that has no tail and seems far bouncier and rounder than any mesakkah female’s bottom would be.