I’m not going to throw myself at a man…even if my gaze keeps drifting back to Yva.
It is amazing how many women find an excuse to come to the laundry to check out Yva—either dropping off or collecting their clothes or bedding—and there is far more washing than usual. Even when we return the bags there are women waiting to take them out of his hand.
I want to vomit at the way they smile and lick their lips, but I’m too fucking angry at the way they glare at me. Or act as if I’m not there.
“You are not happy.” Yva says as we walk back after dropping off this morning’s laundry.
I clamp my teeth together. He’s not being obtuse or rude. Rochelle said they are all learning English far quicker than anyone expected—she had been using classes designed for small children before quickly moving on to more complex classes.
“I’m fine,” I snap.
“If you do not want to tell me, that is fine but since I have not lied to you, it is polite not to lie to me.” He stops pulling the cart. “Did I ask the wrong way? I did not want to imply your mood, only to note that I am aware something is amiss.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “Did you not notice how they behaved?”
“They are trying to get my attention. It is very hard to miss.” He studies me with his weird red eyes. Except they are starting to be less strange now that I’m used to seeing him around. His strength and height no longer seem threatening. And watching him hold a tiny needle to darn a shirt until the rip is almostinvisible, made my panties wet. I can’t remember the last time a man did that…
Aside from when he stood up to the soldier in the dining room, but most of the women walked out of there a little damp.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It is not my place to tell them to stop. Besides, I made no agreement to get to know anyone better. You dislike the attention they give me.” He tilts his head, studying me.
I cross my arms and stalk toward the laundry.
I shouldn’t care.
“I haven’t offered to share my jerky with them,” he calls after me.
I’m not sure which meat he’s talking about. “You can’t share your jerky with anyone because you mate for life.”
He laughs and strides toward me, pulling the empty cart. “True, which is why I am not indulging them. They don’t want me. Any man would do.”
“And you think I do?”
He considers me for several seconds. “You don’t giggle and look at me like I am the last piece of jerky after a long winter.”
“I imagine the last piece of jerky is often rotten.”
He nods. “Sometimes, but sometimes people are hungry enough not to care.”
“And how hungry are you?”
His eyebrows lift as if he didn’t expect the question, or understand the implication.
“I mean, you haven’t been with anyone…” there are people walking around and I don’t want them to overhear us talking about sex and mating. “Does that not get lonely?”
He leans in closer. “I have my brothers. I am not lonely.”
I frown as I gaze up at him. Did I not make myself clear? I keep my voice low. “You don’t want to have sex?”
He gives me that smile again, like I’m the one who missed the point. “Unmated warriors find pleasure with each other.”
“Oh.” He’s not a virgin. But he hasn’t been with a woman. “So it is only with women that you mate for life?”
“There is a biological connection that happens. Being without her becomes painful and is most often fatal. Which is why I am cautious, even though this is an opportunity I had never dreamed of… That I didn’t think possible. Banished warriors aren’t chosen. We survive until we are killed.”
“That’s bleak.”
