I know it’s Piper.
My Piper.
I growl again, louder, and even though I’m not close nearby, the praxiian looks up and glances in my direction. He walks away down the street, as if he’s just window-shopping, but I know he was watching her. I absolutely keffing know it and it makes my senses prickle. As I storm toward the store, he walks away, heading into a drone repair shop nearby. I pause in front of the store, cross my arms and glare menacingly, doing my best to look protective and fierce. Didn’t Piper say a praxiian was bothering her?
I glance inside the store. It’s got a few random customers inside, and Piper waits at one end of the counter as the shopkeeper talks to a mesakkah farmer. They both laugh as if sharing a joke, and then the farmer heads out. The shopkeeper looks over at Piper, who’s waiting patiently, and his lip curls. He avoids her and goes over to another customer instead, striking up a conversation.
I bristle. Does everyone on this planet treat her like garbage? It hits me then—she won’t leave because it’s not just this planet. It’s absolutely everywhere in the universe. No one respects humans. They’re playthings. Illegal playthings. I shouldn’t be surprised that he treats her like a stray beast, because in his eyes, she’s nothing. A nuisance.
I glare through the window as the shopkeeper checks in with all his other customers before heading toward Piper. He gives her a dismissive look, and when she speaks, his face is hard and unforgiving. He puts goods on the counter, but he practically slams them down as if he hates serving her.
His attitude goes all over me. I casually head inside, moving closer to where Piper stands near the counter. She gestures at the items she’s purchasing, her face obscured by her hood. “I think this is everything for me. What is my total?”
The shopkeeper doesn’t even glance up. He just packs things into a container. “Three hundred twenty standard credits.”
I look at the small pile of goods as Piper pulls out a credit chip, and I know suddenly that she’s being overcharged. She’s got noodles and a few other kitchen goods. Nothing that should be that expensive. I put my hand over hers before she can hand it over. “You want to tally that again, friend?” I say in a dangerous voice.
“It’s fine,” Piper says quietly.
The shopkeeper glares at me.
“It’s not fine. Tell me what here costs so much?” I prod.
“Special pricing for humans,” he says after a minute. “You understand.”
“I understand.” I take the chip from Piper and slam it down on the counter, then lean forward. “What’s the price if you’re selling to me?”
The male blusters for a moment, then mumbles a much lower price—fifty six credits—and finishes packaging things without a word. Piper’s silent, too, but I’m boiling inside. She’s being overcharged just because she’s human. Does this happen everywhere she goes? And this is where she wants to stay because she’s treated better here than anywhere else? It eats at me. It eats at me even more when I take the package from the shopkeeper and head out of the shop with Piper at my side.
I know that male. I’ve had drinks with him at the tavern. He seemed like a good guy. Now everyone’s suspect.
“You didn’t have to intercede,” Piper says when we get outside. “I know he overcharges me. It’s not worth the hassle.”
“It is to me,” I grumble. I scan the street as we head toward the air-sled to drop off her purchases. Sure enough, I see the praxiian lurking in the distance, still watching closely. Waiting. Is he waiting for me to leave Piper alone? A new kind of angry frustration blisters through me, and I vow that she’s staying glued to my side while we’re here. “Did you know you’re being followed?”
“A praxiian?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light. “Gray fur?”
“You’ve seen him?”
“No. But I know who it is.” She waits patiently by the sled while I fit the package of goods in the trunk. “He’s the one that’s been bothering me.”
I knew it. Somehow, I suspected it but just hearing the words from her, her voice casual, makes me furious. “You need to stay away from him. praxiians are dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Piper gives me an astonished look and then brushes her hair back from her brow. There, hidden underneath the heavy fringe of hair she always wears over her forehead, are old scars. Large slashes—made by praxiian claws—have marred the perfection of her skin, leaving deep, ugly gashes that disappear into her hairline.
Those came from a blow to the face, I realize suddenly, and it makes me even angrier. “He hit you?”
“Not that one,” she says quietly. “But I’m very familiar with praxiian tempers.” She releases her hair and finger-combs it back into place, hiding the evidence of her past, and then gives me a faint smile. “This is why I need a big, protective husband. Because I know praxiians have bad tempers and they’re not used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. Now, will you help me find one?”