Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Roth’kar

I am irrationally pleased at our encounter with the woman at the restaurant. I’ve never seen Amara go so stiff before, her full lips pressed together in a line, her dark eyes like knives. She has shown me mostly the happy, pleasant sides of herself, but not this side.

Not until tonight.

It excites me to see even more of her. She has claws hidden under her smiles, and I’m glad that she does so I don’t have to worry about her when I’m not around. I like to know that she can protect herself. That she wants to protect me .

The drink that Amara ordered for me is lovely, far better than the gin and tonic I had when we went out to the club.

It’s refined, full of depth, and I spend a long time simply picking out each flavor and reading the ingredients off the menu.

We can see out the windows from our table and gaze out over the vast city with its many twinkling lights.

The Hole was a dark and decrepit place, with lighting to mark walkways—not bright neons and flashing shapes like this.

The human world is so alive .

And then the food arrives. Amara claps her hands together the way she always does, which I’m coming to enjoy about her, as it’s spread out on the table.

We serve ourselves, and Amara explains what each food item is as I add it to my plate.

She sips her wine as I sip my cocktail, and we discuss each plate as we try it.

There are so many wild and exotic flavors, all carefully built and layered.

It’s astounding, and nearly overwhelming, when there are four different dishes to choose from.

“Better than insects?” Amara asks, a playful glint in her eye.

“Far better.” I taste another one of the little soft balls that Amara called nyo-kee. It’s squishy in my mouth and utterly delicious. “ Kath has one taste, and it is not a good one. Nothing compared to this.”

When Amara is finished eating, I devour the rest. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk back to the bus stop.

“I hope they bring the check soon,” Amara says, fiddling with her dress. Her wine is empty for the second time, and she keeps licking her lips, her eyes darting to mine and then away again. “I’d like to go.”

I think I might know what’s on her mind, and it’s a problem I’m invested in solving so we can return home and be alone together. I glance around the restaurant for our waiter, then call out, “Hello, over here?”

Amara covers her face. “Oh my god, Roth’kar, you didn’t.”

The waiter comes over urgently. “What is it? Is your food all right?”

“Yes, we just need the…” I glance at Amara. “What was it, again? So we can leave?”

She spreads her fingers so she can look apologetically at the waiter. “The check, please.”

He gives me an odd look that I can’t decipher, then nods and leaves. When he’s gone, Amara laughs.

“Next time, you wait patiently,” Amara says. “You don’t call them over.”

“Why not?” That’s a perplexing rule. “Then how do you tell them you want to go?”

“You don’t. You wait.”

“But…” I’m still confused. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” Amara throws her hands into the air. “It’s just how we do things. You know what, though, you’re right. It’s stupid.” She laughs again, smiling at me so broadly it shows off her perfect white teeth. It’s as if all the light in this room is focused on her.

Thankfully, the waiter returns with the check , and then we’re off.

Amara leans on me while we wait with a few other humans for the bus.

“That was really nice,” she says in a milky voice. I think she’s feeling her wine. “Even when you yelled at the waiter.”

“I raised my voice an appropriate amount.”

She snorts, and it’s adorable in its impropriety. “I wonder what it would take for you to raise your voice an inappropriate amount?” She tilts her head and scoots toward me so she can kiss my neck. It’s electrifying, sending a little bolt of pleasure right down my spine.

“I can imagine some activities.”

Maybe I’m feeling my two cocktails, too.

Amara giggles, kissing my ear this time. “Oh, I’m imagining them.”

I doubt she is imagining the truth, though. I learned from the Fact Sheet that the human version of my culans, the penis, is not similar in the least. What will Amara do when she’s greeted with them? Will they frighten her?

Perhaps she will decide not to go forward with intimacy—or our marriage—after all.

That thought is unpleasant, and I try not to marinate on it as we finally get on the bus. We hop off only a few stops later. After it rumbles away, Amara tries to lead me off the street, into one of the darker pathways between buildings, but I come to a halt.

“We aren’t supposed to leave the streetlights,” I tell her, pulling her back. She blinks at me.

“Well, it’s okay this time! It’s just a shortcut. We got off at the wrong stop.”

I look down the dark street and know that I can’t let Amara walk down that way. This is my one job. To keep her safe.

“Streetlights only,” I say, more firmly. “You told me those were the rules.”

Amara scoffs, but then she pauses when she can tell I’m quite serious.

“Okaaay, fine, we’ll just take the long way.” She resumes trudging along the lighted sidewalk, and I’m relieved, even though she mutters something about goody-two-shoes alien .

We walk a good long way, and my head is clear again by the time we reach Amara’s familiar apartment building. She is much less pleased, though, and keeps complaining that her feet hurt. Her shoes are not practical at all, but I don’t mention this as we head inside.

In the apartment, Amara collapses on the couch. I lift her legs and sit down, setting them on my lap. Her feet are quite red in places, so I pick one up and rub it gently.

“Ooh.” Amara’s head falls back. “Oh yeah.”

I think she likes this, so I decide to give her foot a good rub all over, trying to soothe out the aches and pains. She lets out noises that are even more erotic than those she makes when we kiss, and my culans lift their heads, wondering if she’s ready for their services.

I gently push down on my crotch and adjust my jeans, then continue with her other foot.

“Damn, Roth’kar,” Amara says, her eyes fluttering closed. “That’s fucking great.”

When I’m finished, she lies there flat and happy, a smile on her face.

I lean over her and kiss her, and coyly, she kisses me back.

Soon, I’m lying atop her, her legs spread open around my hips.

I don’t know quite how we got here, but I’m more than happy to kiss her more deeply, running my lower hands down to her thighs while my upper hands explore her ribcage.

I have been curious for quite some time about Amara’s singular pair of breasts, and so, in a tentative and exploratory fashion, I stroke down the side of one. Amara presses into me like she wants more, so I venture upward, encircling it with my hand.

My culans leap to attention at the sensation of her breast’s heavy weight in my palm. I run a finger up over the nipple, which is buried under fabric, and Amara’s arms wind around my neck.

“This is nice,” she says in my ear, “but I think it would be better if we had fewer clothes on.”

Oh, yes . I wholly agree with this sentiment.

Perhaps I ought to attend to my own, but my hands are thirsting for Amara.

I examine the buttons on her blouse, eventually figuring out how they work and then plucking them open one by one.

She allows me to do it, watching with interest until the shirt falls free of her shoulders, revealing yet more fabric underneath that holds her breasts in place.

They are larger than I expected, more voluptuous now that I see them without her clothes on. She reaches behind her back and fiddles with something, and then that fabric drops away, too.

Oh, is she beautiful, with two teardrop breasts and fat, brown areolas.

My culans have fully swollen, clasping each other as I run two hands up her ribcage to those twin swells, getting a sense of them, the shape and size, the soft texture of the flesh and the darker skin of the nipple.

I read in the Fact Sheet that much like Karthinians with breasts, these are also used to feed young—and behave as erogenous zones.

While still holding onto her hips, I flick a thumb over her nipple, and Amara responds with a gasp, so I do it on the other breast, too. She reaches out and drags my mouth down to hers as I touch her, so we can do the making out at the same time.

Growing bolder, I squeeze her nipples and then soothe them, rubbing them with my palms. But now I want to lick them the way I’m licking her mouth, so I do, stroking her cheek before I dive down to suck them.

Amara arches her back when I do this, so I tug harder, tonguing the nipple and then releasing it before repeating with the other breast.

“Now you,” she manages between gasps. “Take off your shirt, Roth’kar.”

I comply right away, leaning back so I can shuck the shirt off onto the floor. Amara’s eyes take me in, roaming from my hip up to my shoulders, and then to my eyes. That broad smile I find so beautiful shines up at me.

“Damn, you’re a smokeshow.” As usual, I don’t know what it is, but by the way she says it while licking her lips, I think I have an idea.

She strokes my upper arms, then slides her touch inward toward my belly button.

She moves farther down, to the point at which the taper of my muscle disappears into my jeans. “What about these?”

Now is the moment. Perhaps I should prepare her for what she’s about to see.

“You know that I am…” I clear my throat, not sure how to introduce this subject. “Different, yes?”

She cocks her head. “I mean, no offense, but you are an alien.”

I nod agreeably. “And we are sexually compatible,” I remind her. “But it may not look like what you’re accustomed to.”

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.” Amara chuckles nervously. “What is it? I have to see.”

I reach for the button of the jeans, hoping that she does not change her mind.

Once I take them off, my culans are pushing eagerly at the confines of my human underwear—a mystifying additional layer of clothing.

Amara watches raptly as I hook a finger in the band and pull them down, letting myself free.

She gasps sharply and covers her mouth as they appear. I try to keep my own anxiety at bay as my culans clasp together, the soft teeth intertwined.

“Holy shit,” Amara says, her eyes huge. “You weren’t kidding.”