“So… Furga’s pretty great, right? She’s my first friend here.”Which makes Khur my second friend, maybe?I ponder that thought for a moment, wondering why it doesn’t feel quite right. Whatever energy was sparking between us was certainly notfriendly. It felt part terrifying and part exhilarating, like I couldn’t breathe when I was around him. Most likely because of how controlling he was, trying to barge into my apartment like he knew anything. That thought makes a spark of rage shoot through me, but the train of thought is quickly cut off by the sound of a gruff throat clearing.
“Furga is a softie for a charity case. Don’t think you're special,human,” Shemo practically spits at me.
I rear back from his hateful words, for the first time noticing the height difference between us. The Winged-One towers over me, tall enough to lean over the counter and menace me from three feet away. I nod and try to smooth my face.
“Ok… let’s just wait ‘til Furga gets back in silence then.”
“Fine!”
I swallow my smart-ass reply down. He sounds like a child, really. Now if Furga could come back before he tries to strangle me with those scary looking claw-hands that’d be great. I strongly consider telling the scary dude in front of me I will go look for her and running away. Peering down the rows of shelves behind me I try to decide what’s scarier, the endless shadowy aisles or the menacing bat-guy. When I turn around, though, I rear back again, so hard I almost fall back on my ass. Because Khur is here, and he has Shemo’s face pressed to the counter.
“You know we don’t tolerate speciesism here, Shemo. Of all people, honestly, I didn’t expect this from you. I’m really disappointed.”
Khur sounds nonchalant, relaxed, not like he is pinning a vampire with wings to the counter. Shemo is limp beneath him, looking equal parts pissed and ashamed.
“I apologize, human,” he says between gritted teeth.
Khur’s demeanor changes in an instant. His upper lip goes up in a snarl and his hands tighten, biceps bulging in his jumpsuit, as he presses Shemo harder into the counter.
“Her name, Shemo. Apologize with hername.Furga gave it to you. Should I tell her you obviously don’t listen when she talks?”
At the reminder of his secret crush, Shemo starts looking a little panicked, trying to look up and behind me to make sure she wasn’t coming back.
“I can’t remember. Khur, please, you know I’m not speciesist. I’ve had a rough day.”
“Ask her nicely,” my defender growls, sending something hot straight between my legs.
I do not need protection, especially by a big controlling yeti, but I can’t deny how hot he is right now. The standard issue jumpsuit is tight across his upper arms and his shoulders are wide and tall. His horns curve from his skull back around his head, ending in points just next to his ears. He’s bearing ferocious teeth and it’s all so animalistic a shiver goes through me. Which is weird, because I would not have called myself a furry back on Earth. In fact, I would have cringed at the very thought. Now all I can do, though, is gawk at the huge, muscled male defending my honor so fiercely.
“What is your name? Please?” Shemo squeaks out.
I almost want to deny him, just to see what happens, but I’m not the cruel sort and I can see he is really worried about Furga seeing him in this compromising position, so I cut him a break.
“My name is Destiny. Pleasure to meet you, Shemo.” I say sweetly, smiling at the being plastered to the counter. Am I teasing a little? Maybe so, but it’s not often I’ve felt powerful over the last few years (or ever), and I can’t let the moment pass without a little fun.
“Thank you, Destiny. I apologize for my rudeness.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Khur lets up on his arm-wings, pulling him to his feet and clapping his back jovially. Shemo cuts him a glaring side-eye, but then he nods, like they are all good.
“Don’t mind Shemo. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he means well.”
I’m saved from replying by the faint whir of the hover cart and a shout behind me.
“Khur! I had a feeling I might see you today.”
I glance at the big guy in question to see him rubbing one of his horns in what seems like a self-conscious gesture. He glances at me quickly before replying.
“Urzu sent me with a list. She’s makingfurkurrafor dinner tonight.” He turns to me then, straightening his shoulders and assuming a formal voice like Furga had done earlier with Shemo, and says, “I would like to invite you to dinner, Destiny. So you may try a traditional home-cooked Dhugaren meal. Urzu insists.”
Why do those last two words feel as though he’d jabbed me in the gut? He makes it sound like Urzu had toinsist, to convince him to invite me. I realize I wanthimto invite me to dinner, not his sister and that freaks me the hell out. He is 100% not my type: controlling and overprotective, loud and aggressive, oh, and he is an ALIEN.
I am not going to turn down alien food, though. It’s part of my to-do list as a new citizen of Sanctuary Station: try everything. I also don't want to turn down Urzu’s hospitality. She was so kind last night and this morning, and I don't want to repay that kindness with a snub, even if I want to say no just to spite this stupid alien in front of me.
“Urzu insists, huh? Well in that case, I’d love to.”
“Not inviting me?” Furga pouts next to me, “One look at a pretty human and now I’m what? Scavenger food?”
My eyebrows are so high I feel them brush my hairline. Is she referring to me? Does Khur think I’m pretty? What should I do with this information? Do I want to do anything? I glance over at him again, noticing how he has a good five inches on Shemo’s tall frame. He’s so much broader, too. Burly, thick muscle covered in all that lusciously soft fur. Remembering how soft it was when he carried me, I itch tosink my fingers into the thick ruff around his shoulders again. Then the rest of Furga’s comment sticks and I swing my head around.
