“No, I had an appointment to go see this beautiful quarter horse.” I pause, chewing on my lip.
“And then?”
“Then? The Deenz kidnapped me.”
He blinks, not once or twice. Mekkra blinks at me four times.
“The Deenz ke-kept you against your will?” His tongue sounds thick, as if his mouth is suddenly dry.
“Of course, they sold me to you… how could they do that if they didn’t?”
“Indentured servitude? It is common on my planet. I assumed you had gotten yourself into a situation that put you in the debt of the Deenz. And I traded for you, I didn’t buy you, if it makes you feel any better. I thought of it more like an arranged mating,” he says astutely.
I can’t help it, I just laugh. Like rolling up from my toes, belly rattling laughs.
“Nope, sorry to burst your bubble there, not much of anything I’ve done in space has been consensual.” The words sound sadder than they do in my head.
“Will you be my mate?” he rushes out, grabbing my hands in his.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” I look for Starcroft in confusion. But like he’s been programmed to be scarce, he’s not around.
“No, I’m asking you—I wouldn’t keep you here any longer if you didn’t want it.”
“Wait—can you take me home?” Hot, burning hope fills my chest.
“If I could, I would. But not even a warlord can go across the quarantine in place for Earth. It is impossible,” he sighs.
And for a moment, it stings. Going home was something I knew in the back of my mind wasn’t a possibility. But hearing it now, from the alien who suddenly wants me to want to be with him, makes it hurt more.
“I knew that,” I whisper.
“I can take you somewhere else, though,” he says.
“There’s nowhere else. The Deenz make sure of that.”
“I know you could never want me, truly…” I narrow my eyes but let him continue. “But I could ensure that you’d be taken care of.”
“Taken care of?” I arch a brow.
Mekkra drops my hands, walks to the table, grabbing his datapad and types something in before placing my fingerprint over a sensor.
“It’s done,” he says.
“What’s done? Wait…did you just take my fingerprint?” I tuck my hand into my armpit for protection.
“Yes, I had to, so that I could transfer credits to your bio-signature.”
“Credits?” Maybe it’s the stripper in me, but myears perk up. I haven’t owned anything and certainly haven’t had money in my entire space life.
“Half of the dread hoard, as is customary of my people, for your dowry.”
“How much is half?”
“Seven billion USG credits.”
“That seems like a lot.” Fuck, seven billion could be like twenty bucks on Earth. Who knows?
He picks up the datapad again, albeit this time a bit more grumpily. I have a feeling that my not being impressed has left him feeling miffed.
