I say a prayer he sends for my shit soon because if I’m going to be forced to live here for at least a year, I want to feel like part of this space is mine.
I venture out and notice the place is starting to feel a bit more familiar. I’m missing the smell of coffee that Zane always had going whenever I woke up, but my heart is pumping with the anticipation of seeing Rathyn again, so maybe I don’t need my morning caffeine.
I stroll into the living room and find him sitting on the edge of the chair in a blinding ray of sunlight. I open my mouth to ask him how he is, but then he stands, and I realize it’s not Rathyn.
In fact, he looks nothing like Rathyn at all.
The monster in my living room has slightly darker skin, and his hair is blue and violet, twisted in a thick Dutch braid down his back with strings of silver woven in between. He’s wearing completely sheer pants that cascade down past his clawed feet and a matching vest that does nothing to cover up his pierced nipples.
He’s at rigid attention with his hands behind his back, which is something I’m not used to in the presence of the Vyastil.
I swallow heavily. “Uh. Hi.”
He says nothing but inclines his head, so that’s something, I guess.
“Is Rath here?”
He stares.
“Rath. Rathyn,” I clarify.
He clears his throat, licks his lips, but then just shakes his head.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Rathyn is gone and this total stranger is in my—his—apartment?
“Did he send you?”
He nods.
“To babysit me?” When he frowns in confusion, I sigh. “To watch me.”
The confusion in his eyes clears and he nods, holding his shoulders a little straighter.
That’s wonderful. Rathyn has disappeared and in his place is a total stranger sent to watch me. This wasn’t in the goddamn contract and we will be having words when he’s home. “Uh. So…are you?—”
“Eeeeht,” he grunts, interrupting me. He taps his lips with the tips of his fingers like a sign for eat.
I blink at him. “I’m sorry? What?”
He points at the kitchen and makes a strange, melodic noise that very much has the tone of a command.
Well. Excuse the fuck out of me.
I don’t take that shit from the one who sucks my dick. I’m not going to take it from some guy whose name I don’t even know.
I turn away from him, but apparently that’s the wrong move because I find myself in his hands being frog-marched toward the kitchen. “Eeeathhhh,” he says again.
For fuck’s sake. The thing is, I’m starving so I don’t even want to argue, but I will be damned if I let these Vyastil think they can order me around. I pull myself out of his grasp and straighten my shirt.
“Fine. Whatever. You don’t need to be a dick about it.”
He stares at me with his wide-blinking eyes, and I can’t tell if he understands me or not. Whatever. I don’t care. He’s not Rathyn. He’s a babysitter or whatever. I can tolerate his presence for a while.
Rummaging through the cabinets, I find the coffee and quickly start brewing a cup before pulling fruit out of the fridge. Most of Rathyn’s mossy shit is gone, and I wonder if he’s going to go grocery shopping on Erethar?
Do they even have stores there?
I’m starting to think most of the stuff we know about the Vyastil and where they come from is bullshit. It’s all some kind of government propaganda to make us compliant.
