Page 13 of Rescued by the Alien Bull Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #6)

ZOHRO

Y oungest-ever graduate from the Medical Academy of Zabria , I sneered viciously at myself, and you couldn’t even keep your bride healthy for a single day.

My boots hammered on the wooden floors of the house.

In the bedroom, I opened the large, single window.

Then, I took the hay bale from the bed and hurled it outside.

It landed with a dusty thud that was not at all satisfying.

Seething, my gut clenching every time I remembered the redness spreading over Jolene’s soft skin, I stripped the bed for washing.

I’d use the tub for the laundry, since Jolene had refused to get into it.

But before then, I’d prepare a salve for her.

I had a few basic Zabrian drugs on hand, as well as veterinary medication for the animals, but I had no idea which would be contraindicated for a human, let alone a pregnant one.

But one of the puhla squash from the garden would hopefully suffice.

The cool flesh inside was full of anti-inflammatory compounds which I sometimes made use of myself.

Hopefully that would make a difference for her.

I could not stand the thought of her in pain.

Hate yourself later. You have work to do.

I fetched a puhla squash from the garden and returned with it to the house.

In the kitchen, I hacked it open with a cleaver, peeling out the seeds and setting them aside for planting.

I scooped the pale lavender flesh – hard and uncooked – out of the rind, then mashed it forcefully into a paste in a bowl.

My actions created an odd slapping sort of sound.

Only, when I stopped, the sound kept going.

It was coming from outside. I leaned towards the open window, angling my head, my ears twitching.

It was Jolene.

She was stripped to the waist, her back to me. And she was slapping the wet rag I’d given her against the backs of her red shoulders. After a few rounds of this, she’d dunk it in the water and begin again, awkwardly flinging the rag behind her, smacking it against her inflamed skin.

She can’t reach.

My breath felt hot in my lungs. Yet another thing you failed to anticipate.

“Get in here,” I snapped. “Stop all that flailing and let me help you.”

She turned to look at me from over her bare shoulder, her orange eyebrows drawing upwards. I was about to ask her what she was waiting for, but I found myself momentarily stunned into speechlessness by the sight of her there.

The sun had moved slightly since I’d been out there with her.

She was no longer completely in shade. A beam fell, hitting her on a steep angle.

Her hair, face, and right shoulder glowed with colour so deliciously vivid a confused part of me almost thought that I could taste it.

Taste her, though she stood many paces from me, separated by windows and walls.

She blinked, the little hairs around her human eyes – eyelashes, they were called – making winged shadows sweep across the curved outline of her cheek.

Her shoulder was pale, her back even lighter than that.

Her spine was an elegant line arcing down from her slender neck to her thickened waist and luscious hips.

I ached with the disastrous need to run my knuckle down the length of it. To count every bit of bone, one by one.

And then count them all again.

“Alright, alright,” she said, stiffly bending to scoop up the shirt she’d abandoned and holding it against her chest. “Keep your pants on.”

“I plan to!” I retorted, offended to my very core that she’d even feel the need to suggest such a thing.

And also ever-so-slightly hurt by the way she so obviously did not want to see me out of my clothes. She’d been the one to mention our marital bed earlier, and talk about viewing each other’s bodies as a married couple! I had not even tried to broach the subject.

Not that that mattered right now. She likely would not even want to look at my face, not to mention my cock, once I told her about my conviction. Which I would do. Today.

But for now, I had to focus on her health. Whether I was her doctor or her husband or something in between, her wellbeing – and by extension, that of her child – was my absolute priority. And that invigorated me. Caring for her was a worthy goal, something to strive for.

I had not felt this way since leaving Zabria.

Not once.

Until now.

Until her .

“I’m here!” she called, clambering onto the porch and coming into the kitchen. She clutched her shirt against her front, shielding her belly and her foreign human breasts from my gaze. Not that I was trying to see her breasts. I was too preoccupied by her hands, so raw and red and small .

I wanted to make them better.

I wanted to hold them.

Instead, I reached for a wooden kitchen chair and pulled it out from the table.

“Sit.”

“Then what?” she asked as she sat in the seat.

“Then I’ll put this salve on you.” I brought the bowl of mashed puhla squash over to the table and thumped it down in front of her.

“What’s that?” she asked leaning towards the bowl with interest. “Looks like ice cream!”

“I just told you. It’s a salve.”

“But what’s it made of?”

I jutted my tail towards the kitchen counter where the rinds still lay.

“Puhla squash. The flesh has anti-inflammatory and anti-oxidative properties. It also functions well as a humectant. It should soothe your skin.”

“Ooh. Fancy.” She stuck her finger into the bowl. “Can I eat it?”

“It’s not cooked,” I grunted at her, frowning. “Just spread it onto your hands, would you? I’ll do your back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” she said quickly, already rubbing the purple goop into her skin. “I know you still have a ton of work to do.”

She wasn’t wrong. I did have much to do. Winter would be here before I knew it. It seemed to come upon me faster every year. I’d gotten a good start on the bales to last the herd and shuldu over the winter, but I wasn’t finished. Not even close.

“It can wait.” I leaned around her, dipping my own fingers into the bowl.

“Besides, if you putting this salve on your back is anything like what I just witnessed outside with the rag, then I’m going to have a kitchen covered in puhla purée.

And I’d rather not have to clean that up later if at all possible. ”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a small chuckle. “That’s fair. I don’t have a tail like you to reach back there.”

No, she didn’t. I let my gaze slide down her back to the waistband of her pants. No belt with a hook to hang her tail upon. Because there was no tail at all.

My cock stirred needily as I stared at the white expanse of her lower back. What would she look like, without a tail and without clothing? I’d seen the illustrations of the naked human women in the book provided by Tasha. But I wanted to know what Jolene looked like.

Only Jolene.

“I actually think this is helping!” she said excitedly, flexing her fingers, shiny with the salve.

It was hard to tell with the purple sheen, but it seemed like the skin on her hands was not so red now.

“This is great to know. It could make a great moisturizer or diaper balm for Baby Girl! Can we make more and preserve it beyond the growing season?”

Beyond the growing season. She spoke so easily of staying here with me, into winter and beyond. My insides lurched, as if something vital had come unfastened.

“Yes,” I replied in a clipped tone. “I have a freezer in the cellar.”

“Perfect!” She sighed. “I swear, this stuff is magic!” Her head moved, her eyes catching mine with something that almost looked like shyness.

“I know I just said you didn’t have to, but…

Would you? You know. Put some on my back.

” Her mouth twisted, as if it were uncomfortable to ask this tiny thing of me, even though I was the reason for her discomfort in the first place.

I showed her my wet hand meaningfully. “What else did you think I was going to do with this?”

“OK, well. You’re kind of just standing there.”

I huffed out a harsh breath, unwilling to tell her that I’d been waylaid by lustful thoughts of her tailless backside.

“It’s because all your hair is in the way,” I muttered, throwing the lie between us like a shield.

“Oh! Sorry. Can you please move it? My hands are all gloppy.” She rested her elbows on the table and wiggled her shiny fingers.

I hesitated, heat lodging in my throat. The act felt bizarrely intimate.

Which was probably a stupid thing to think, considering I’d just fisted her hair outside to get a look at her back.

But here, in the quiet of the kitchen, with her bare skin before me and the bright strands of her hair looking so invitingly soft and warm, it was different.

But I wouldn’t leave her in discomfort just because I was suddenly caught up by some combination of dread and desire over something as simple as her hair. With my clean hand, I gently gathered it all up and pushed it forward over her left shoulder.

Her back was not as red as her hands had been. The sheet I’d put between the hay and her for the night had had at least some mitigating effect. But I still seethed at the sight of the red splotches and scratches there, inflaming her.

Tasha’s book had not mentioned much about human skin besides the need for sun protection. I did not realize it could be so sensitive. So reactive.

What else would it react to?

Much of the salve I’d had on my fingers had absorbed into my own hide. I gathered more on my fingers, bringing the cool, creamy gel of it to the angriest places of redness between her shoulder blades. When I touched her, her shoulders tensed in response.

“Does that hurt?” By the empire, what had I done now? I’d been as gentle as possible.

“No,” she said quickly, a rush of shivering breath. “Please don’t stop.”

I felt her words in my cock.

There is nowhere else I should have ended up but here, I lamented in stony silence. I am a perverted failure of the highest order.