Page 8

seven

Lenora

He’s been gone for a while. Although I can hear him outside the front of the house, lingering for who knows what.

The fire reddens my skin as I lie beside it on the wide circular base.

It’d be comfortable, hell I’d probably be asleep by now, if I wasn’t one wrong move away from peeing myself.

A quick exploration of the house once the worst of the chill was gone earlier provided absolutely zero clues as to where the bathrooms are, or bathroom, considering there’s apparently only one bed.

Oh god, what if they’re outside?

I can imagine trekking into the frosty night to take a pee with those lion beasts out there, no less. The absolute last thing I need is to walk up to my new alien partner to ask him where I can wash the urine out of my clothes .

Oh, hell no.

I’ll bury them before it comes to that.

My ultra-still lounging quickly turns to pacing, and when a whimper escapes from my throat, my resolve to let him stew alone snaps.

I all but jerk the front door open, my eyes widening as his mount, looking no less imposing, stretched out like an Old Earth cat, lazily raises its head to meet my eyes.

Its warm breath fanning my face might’ve scared me in any other situation, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry currently.

When I peek through the doorway, I’m met with nothing but darkness and a few glittering lights far off in the distance.

“Fafnir?” I call out, doing a stupid-looking dance because, oh god, I’m actually about to pee.

I try to move past Valoryx, but his large head braces on my stomach, making me rear back to miss being gored by his horns.

He paws lazily at me, obviously disapproving of my desire to venture outside.

A sound of irritation leaves me as I stalk back in, a momentary retreat only to jerk a fur-lined blanket from the couch before I return to him.

He grumbles, making my pulse hiccup as I settle over his back, trying to cross him like a mountain.

He gets the wrong idea. The damn thing gives another languid stretch before surging to his feet.

A panicked squeal erupts from my throat, my hands still twisted in the blanket hung around my shoulders as I fall off, pain flaring in my tailbone as it connects with the unforgiving frozen ground.

“Lenora?” Fafnir’s growly voice hits me just as I swallow back the volley of curses that would have Mom rolling in her sheets.

He rushes to me. The look of genuine panic in his stern brown eyes might’ve made my belly flutter before.

He takes in my sprawled position on the ground, my knees raised and tilted together, my dress riding up with the blanket pooled around me.

His panic turns accusatory as he straightens himself.

“Female, you cannot just try to ride a Sihlih without its mast—"

Valoryx equals Sihlih. That seems kind of obvious now .

“I need to pee, now!” I all but squeak, willing the fullness in my bladder to remain just a moment more. Cursing my stubbornness, it had felt below me to watch him retreat, only to seek him out for help.

All delusions of pride are long gone now.

His everlasting frown deepens. “Is there an issue with the wasting room?”

What had started as a trickle of annoyance turned to hurt, then frustration, and now?

Now I’m pissed .

“I wouldn’t know, as you never bothered to tell me how to find it, you big dumb male! You dropped me off in your house and fucking booked it to Timbuktu!” I yell, making Valoryx chuff out something that sounds a lot like a laugh, but that would be really creepy, and we can analyze it later.

His eyes widen in understanding, letting loose a stream of curses in his gruff rolling native language. I yelp as he suddenly swoops forward, moving quicker than a giant horned man should as he all but plucks me from the ground, tossing me over his shoulder.

The most unholy noise leaves me as I pound his firm back. “Not my belly, oh god, you need to put me down now!”

“Hush.” He growls, his long tan and gray tail swishing with agitation. Because yes, how dare I try to not pee on him!

“Ass.” I hiss under my breath.

I’m counting the seconds as his long strides eat up the house.

The warmer tones of the off-white walls in his bedroom overwhelm my vision, my gaze darting to the giant circular bed that dominates the room.

I’m squirming as he slides me down his chest, my toes curling against the rough cut but polished wooden floor.

His hand smacks against a slightly recessed indention on the wall, and the door doesn’t slide open more than a few inches before I’m slithering through it like the house is on fire. “Close it!”

He huffs but does as I say.

My glare only deepens as I jerk my underwear down, all but clambering onto the oversized toilet with a weird open back. I guess to account for his tail. It's one of those long, awkward pees that never seems to end, especially considering I know he can hear me.

Once it does, three Terra2 solars later, I clean up and rush to the shower, turning it on, thankful it’s not as convoluted as the bathroom door.

Not only do I need a shower, but currently, I’m willing to do anything but be out there with him .

My anger got the best of me, and I was a little mean but also screw him right now.

I haven’t calmed down enough yet to feel bad about it.

It heats quicker than any shower I’ve had before, a sigh leaving my throat as I step under the stream.

My finger dusts the control panel, turning it up a little more, to account for the temperature change when the water finally hits me from all the way up there.

It takes another few deep breaths before I open my eyes and actually look around me.

The shelves are lined with beauty products that’ve never been opened, obviously meant for me, although I haven’t a clue why I’d need so many.

All of them are wrapped neatly and are naturally made.

My eyes dart for the door, wondering if he’s still out there before I pivot in the stream of scalding water, plucking up his opened, used bar of soap, bringing it to my nose.

I don’t know what in the world possesses me to do it. My cheeks flame as his smell engulfs the shower, the soap coming off as it suds under the stream. Cold forests and rich wood. My eyelids flutter closed and open before I put it back, rubbing some on my chest like a fucking lunatic.

A hiss leaves my throat as I prod at my bruised tailbone, stretching this way and that to take in the damage in the giant stall like shower.

The top half of me is exposed by a half wall meant to keep the water in, but only barely.

Judging by the drains in the floor and other shower head looking feature by the sink, this seems to be a wet bathroom like the ones back home.

My heart gives a pitiful little pang. It’s only day one, and the lack of family, of familiarity, the smell of my own sheets is—

I shriek, covering my breasts with my arms as Fafnir steps inside. “What the hell?!”

He growls as his gaze lands on me, probably looking like a drowned rat, but… the look he has in his eyes isn’t disproving. Quite the opposite, really, or perhaps I’m still taken by the same flavor of insanity that urged me to use his soap.

Oh god, can he smell that?

The bundle of fabrics in his arms is forgotten as he takes in another languid pass of my wet form, making my cheeks flush down to my chest. “F-Fafnir?”

His voice is deeper, gruffer, and I don’t dare step back behind the half wall or lower my eyes despite everything inside me screaming to do both. “Some clothing and fresh towels.”

I nod my thanks, but he doesn’t leave, just glares at the bundle.

“Was there something else?”

“I apologize for my inattention, Lenora. I am used to being alone.”

His words hit deeper than I’d like, wiping away some more of my lingering anger, but just barely. “It’s a lot for us both. These things take time.” I offer, wishing they sounded a little softer than they do .

He huffs at that, stalking from the bathroom. I watch his bulked form and frenzied tail, chewing at my bottom lip until the door slides shut behind him.

I stay in the shower for admittedly too long, and stay even longer after seeing the pajamas he’d bought for me.

It’s a sheer, gauzy babydoll style top with silky, barely there shorts on the bottom.

I must’ve scowled at the uncomfortable thing for a good ten minutes before reluctantly donning it.

I grumble, cursing not for the last time that we aren’t allowed to bring out our own clothes.

Something about making it easier to assimilate to the new culture, which is fine and all, but this clearly was made off-world.

Did he bother to get me any clothes locally at all, or just buy the sexiest stuff he could find on the intergalactic web?

Not that it matters, really. My modesty on Terra2 had always been out of necessity and not preference.

There's no traditional mirror above the sink, only a large one that leans against a wall in the corner, rimmed with natural knotted wood. Despite the room being thickly cloaked in steam, it isn’t the least bit foggy.

When I finally bulk up the courage to face it, I get an immediate, uninterrupted view of my own twisted looking face.

That sight alone has me breathing deep and forcing my features to relax. We can’t both be petulantly grumpy, or this will be the most hellish year of my life to date.

The moment that thought passes, I know it’s wrong, but thinking about my family right now certainly won’t help me adopt a neutral disposition.

That’s currently filed under the, I can’t think about anything of substance right now or I’m going to have a mental breakdown category, way in the back of my mind.