"Good. Because neither am I."
It growls at me. "You'll wish you hadn't said that. You little like-a-cock excrement."
I give the creature an incredulous stare. There is nothing small about my anatomy. Not a single thing.
I smooth my features before the outrage shows along my spikes. It was a clever use of words, though, and I can't resist the snort that escapes my nostrils.
"You are very creative with your language." I compliment begrudgingly.
If this were a battle of words, I'd have lost horribly, so it was only fitting I give praise.
13
Kira
The creature snorts at my statement, a sound that's half amusement, half derision. It compliments me, but its eyes gleam with a mixture of interest and malice.
I'm exhausted. I feel it in every muscle, every bone.
My earlier rush of adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me drained. "We could keep doing this all day," I lie.
I try to catch my breath as I continue. "Or we could just walk in opposite directions."
"I'm having too much fun to stop now," it replies, pouncing again with claws extended.
I dodge, barely, the effort making me more exasperated by the second.
"You're wasting your energy," I hiss out, ducking under another swipe. "We'd be better off using it against the aliens hunting us. Besides, you're making too much noise, you idiot."
Not that I’ve been quiet, but that was when I thought I was about to die.
My words don't deter it.
It keeps after me, relentless and unyielding. Each swipe, each lunge is a fresh challenge.
Desperation fuels my next words.
"We could join forces," I blurt out, hoping to reach whatever part of its brain is capable of reason. I've said it before and was ignored, but my strength is ebbing away.
The thing tilts its head, considering. In that brief moment, I put some space between us, my heart pounding.
It adopts a thoughtful disposition, its claws lowering slightly. "Join forces, you say?"
"Yes," I reply, trying to sound convincing and less like I'm about to collapse. "We can't keep fighting each other and expect to survive."
I might prefer to be alone, but I'm not stupid. A giant blue dino-dragon who likes to pounce on people might be good to have around. Besides, if we create an alliance and it dies, I'm not the least bit attached to the asshole.
No need to go on a month-long bender wallowing in my grief.
Perfect.
"Very well, I'll join forces with you," it says, its tone imperious. "You provided useful information when asked. But I should keep you as a pet."
"That's not what I said," I retort, my exhaustion giving way to anger. "I'm no one's pet."
The expletives flow freely now, before I'm able to make them into a useful sentence. "I'm not a fornicating toy for you to play with."
Damn. That did not come out right, especially considering I'm on this planet because of alien sex trafficking.
