He licks his lips, takes his hand from the wall, and tilts my chin up between his forefinger and thumb.
“And we stay together until my cock loses its determination—does that frighten you?”
I don’t answer right away but try to picture his organ inside me. Could I handle the thick, swelling bulb—would it feel like bliss, torture, or something else entirely? There’s so much I should be scared of, but his dick isn’t striking fear in my heart, only curiosity about the sensation of being so filled with him.
“No, it doesn’t scare me.”
He grins—and I freeze, because oh. Oh. That’s new.
His lips pull back over those sharp teeth jutting from his bottom lip, and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. It’s… unsettling. In a weirdly hot, probably dangerous way.
But then, he reaches behind his back.
Winces.
Andsnaps something off.
I stare.
I stare harder.
“Did you just?—”
He turns back like nothing happened, holding out a long, wicked-looking spine. Freshly removed. From his body. Like that’s a normal thing he does.
“Mae, does this please you?”
“What the fuck, man?” I blurt, gawking at the… thedetached appendagehe’s casually offering me like it’s a bouquet.
He frowns, genuinely confused, eyes flicking from me to the spine, then back to me likeI’mthe weird one here.
“It is customary that I craft a ring for you, frommy spines,” he explains, completely serious. “It is part of?—”
I scrub a hand down my face. “The mating ceremony. Yeah. No, I got that part. Just—” I gesture wildly at the spine before adding quickly, “It’s… lovely.” I force a taut smile.
He brightens. Actuallybrightens.
“If you wish for another, simply let me know.” He starts to turn, already reaching back?—
“NOPE.” I throw both hands up. “Nope, we’re good. One is—fantastic. Incredible. You have amazing taste. Please stop harvesting yourself.”
He pauses, then nods, satisfied. Like this was a totally normal, successful romantic gesture.
Then he just… tucks the spine under his arm and heads off down the corridor. I take a moment to compose myself and head back to my own room.
A weird, out-of-place laugh bubbles up in my throat, almost like a nervous reaction.
It's become increasingly clear that I know nothing about alien dicks or mating customs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Our mating ceremony, whatever that entails, has been put on hold again. It’s taken days for Mekkra and the droids to repair the damage to the ship, and despite our growing intimacy, Mekkra still keeps his injuries close to his chest.
Even though he swears that he’s fine now, I catch him limping when he thinks I’m not looking. But he's not injured enough to stop micromanaging his droid fleet or even spot-welding repair panels himself.
I catch glimpses of when his mind strays, too. If I wasn’t paying attention, it might just seem like a tiny lapse in attention. But there’s something off: the snarl of his lip, the narrowing of his eyes. It’s like he’s arguing with himself without speaking.
I hope the kinder Mekkra is winning, and not the one who murdered his own brother.
