Oh, no…
It no longer seemed to matter what IthoughtI wanted, because my tendrils were now wrapping around my mate’s mechanical ones of their own accord—desperate to combine my essence with his.
Hesitantly surrendering to the situation, I pulled him closer, wrapping us both in a cocoon of starry light while my resonance hummed in approval of our physical connection.
I am in so much trouble.
10
MICAH
Ziggy Andromeda was acting squirrely.
Squirrelier than usual, I mean.
Unfortunately for my man, I could sense his emotions to some extent, and while my stellar collision sonar wasn’t as enhanced as his, I could still tell he was bunched up aboutsomething.
“Is this about me sticking a finger in your ass?” I blurted out, no longer able to hold it in.
What?
We all know I have no filter.
“E-excuse me?” Ziggy choked out, his pale skin blushing adorably beneath his murder freckles.
“You’re acting weird, dude,” I huffed, apparently more confident than him that no one around us understood Earthling American English. “And I need to know if I did something wrong.”
Because I’m sensitive, goddamnit!
Ziggy’s expression softened. “No, sunshine. This isn’t about anything you did.” When I continued to stare at him expectantly, he sighed and shifted awkwardly on his feet. “However, I… would rather work through it on my own a bit before discussing it with you… if you don’t mind.”
Oh.
Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.
As nosey as I was, I respected his answer. To be honest, I was downrightproudof this emotionally constipated alien admitting something was wrong in the first place, much lesscommunicatinghe needed time to process.
And that deserves to be celebrated.
“Roger that.” I nodded decisively and steered the conversation to safer waters. “So which gun are we buying today?”
We’d stopped at the shop of Ziggy’s favorite weapons merchant, which happened to be located near Astrum Force’s laboratories. Even though I wasdyingto see Pedro again, I’d encouraged the detour, because if there was one thing Space Daddy enjoyed—besides fucking me senseless, of course—it was adding to his already overflowing arsenal.
And what Space Daddy wants, Space Daddy gets.
Ziggy smiled gratefully before returning his focus to the merchandise spread out on the crystal case before us. “I’m having trouble deciding,” he murmured, which was evenmoreoff-brand than him talking about feelings. “Which one do you think I should buy?”
Gasp!
It may have seemed like overkill—literally—for a creature with built-in Samurai tendrils to own so many weapons, but I was more than happy to be the enabler. I was far better at conjuring up defensive shields than creating complex alien weaponry, so the selection at shops like this always impressedme—even if I was pretty pleased with how my wannabe Stellarian tendrils had turned out.
Although they’re nowhere near as cool as Zig’s…
Even with how excessive it was, I found my man’s murder weapon collection as sexy as his skinsuit closet—almost—so being asked to weigh in on the newest addition had me feeling like a kid in a candy store.
“Let me see…” I rubbed my hands together, evil villain-style. “Which one will make us look like the baddest bitches in all the galaxies?”
Ziggy snorted but patiently waited for me to decide. I ran my hands over the merchandise, pausing at a futuristic looking crossbow—because then we could get medieval on someone’s ass—before my gaze fell on a humorously oversized, neon green and orange ray gun that clearly came from the intergalactic department of ACME Corporation.
