Page 7 of Warrior (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #2)

I glanced down at my body. I was still ten pounds heavier than normal for my height, but I was young and strong again. It didn’t matter. The reason I couldn't have children wasn't because of disease or injury. It was a genetic defect in my womb. If desire aided conception, I’d be mother to dozens.

“Thank you,” I murmured, concentrating on the weave of thread through the fabric to push the painful memories away.

"Was your husband a good man?" Daicon asked, as if he believed the fault lay with Gavin and not me.

"He was a wonderful man." I quickly set the record straight. “Gavin was a minister.”

“Min-is-tur?”

How to explain religion to an alien. Didn’t I read an article about this once? “On earth, a minister is a holy man that helps people understand God’s will.”

“Ahhh!” Daicon grunted, using the heel of his palm to hammer away at the door. “We have those whose only duty is to serve the will of the Valana. I believe the Earth term is priest."

“A minister is a type of priest.” It was a good enough explanation. "Gavin was a good minister. He traveled all over the Earth helping people.”

“Sounds like a warrior. Was he killed in battle?"

"Sort of." I'd never thought of it like that, but in a way, it was true. “Gavin was on his way home late one night from helping a young man in crisis. Another driver hit his vehicle, and it killed him instantly.” Even on this moon, miles, and months past, I still felt the cold, clammy hand of death trailing down my spine, just like the night he died. I'd begged him not to go out. It was late when he got the call, but Gavin never said no to a soul in crisis. The young man in question was a former gang member and drug addict. I worried every time he met with the troubled soul that Gavin wouldn’t come back. This time he didn’t, but it wasn’t the young man’s fault.

It was because a carload of teenagers didn’t listen to the age-old lesson—don’t drink and drive. Nobody made it out of the crash alive.

“Like a said, a warrior,” Daicon said, his voice low and respectful.

I felt better. Which was strange. Even with the Outlander book club girls, every time I spoke of Gavin's death or my infertility, a hollowness caved in my heart, threatening to swallow me whole.

This time, I felt lighter. Like the memories were stones, too heavy to carry on my own, now taken up by someone with enough muscle to bear the weight.

What was it about Daicon?

Oh, who am I kidding? I might have just met him, but I’m attracted to him.

At least, I think it's attraction—I'd felt nothing quite like this before. I loved my husband. Gavin was my first and only lover, and sex with him was comforting and loving. Granted, it never hit the level of Jamie and Claire in the Outlander books or Agnes touting one of her many liaisons. I know the Outlander gals thought me prudish—I wasn’t.

If anything, I felt embarrassed that my lovemaking with Gavin never hit the plateaus of pleasure the other women claimed to experience.

Being around Daicon was a little scary. He made me feel soft and sexy and, if I'm honest, a little wild. Sex with him wouldn’t start with one’s clothes piled neatly on a chair beside the bed.

It would begin with wild abandon, ripping and tearing perfectly good garments because you couldn't wait to press your naked flesh together.

A low thunk brought me out of my libido.

Great. Now this sexy alien just shut and locked my door.

Sweet fancy Moses!

I don’t think I drew breath as he walked toward me, settling on the ground to inspect the workmanship of the makeshift sheet and pillow.

Daicon’s lopsided grin was positively adorable. “This is good. It’s a shame you did not have children. You would be an excellent mother.”

My cheeks heated, and this time it had little to do with the nearness of his muscular body. I never excelled at taking compliments. Lack of vanity an excellent virtue for a minister’s wife.

“Not really.” I gave a low snort. "Sewing together a few scraps for sheets does not a mother make."

Daicon tested the firmness of the pillow, grinning. "You would be a great mother, and I won't hear otherwise. Nip it, nip it in the bud.”

My mouth fell open, and whatever thoughts in my head succumbed to bewilderment. I knew that quote. I’d heard it dozens of times watching television reruns of my father’s favorite show. Surely not? But Daicon said he learned English from the Earth's television and radio waves.

I cleared my throat. "Um, Daicon—did you just quote Barney Fife?"

“Yes.” He glanced up at me, frowning in confusion at the shock plainly on my face. "I learned to speak a lot of English from watching Andy, Barney, Aunt Bee, and Opie in their daily lives." He sighed, the golden eyes taking on a faraway tinge. "I hope they are doing well on Earth."

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. One minute I stared at him, completely flabbergasted, and the next, I was sitting on the cot, clutching my stomach, and trying to catch my breath. I don’t think I’d laughed this hard since Gavin died. Heck, I might not have laughed this hard before he died.

“Are you alright?”

That Daicon peered at me with concern only made it worse. I left him staring in confusion while I rolled around on the cot, cackling.

Daicon's weight settling on the cot's edge sobered me in a hurry.

“What is wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” I sniggered, wiping tears from my eyes. “It's just…" It took me a few more minutes before I gained enough composure to converse.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, wiping my face, and trying not to think too much about the fact that he sat on my bed, only a few inches away. "It's just that…." How did I explain this?" You know Andy, Barney, Opie, and Aunt Bee… they're not real people."

The confusion on Daicon’s face was precious. It made him even more appealing, if that was possible. My entire body was already throbbing.

“What do you mean, they are not real… like a hologram?”

“No, they’re real people. They're just characters."

Confusion deepened the lines of his face. And I thought explaining religion was hard.

“You said you learned about us from the television waves, right?"

“Yes.”

“Well, television is a form of entertainment on Earth. We have people who call themselves actors, and their job is to pretend to be fictional characters for the entertainment of others.” I watched the bewilderment fade from Daicon’s face somewhat.

He stood scrubbing the back of his neck, processing the information. “So it is like holograms, just with people.”

“I guess.” Since I’d never seen a hologram, who knew?

Daicon gave an indistinct sound, something between a growl and a chuckle. “I always wondered why Barney and Andy didn’t act like the humans we rescued. In all their adventures, I don’t think I heard them say fuck once.”

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. If I went on another jag, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get me medical attention. “No. They don’t normally use language like that on television.”

Daicon gave a shrug, moving to settle on his makeshift bed.

The grain bags crackled under his weight.

I tossed him one of my blankets, keeping the threadbare one for myself since I also had a sheet.

Nights could be chilly, but the temperature was at least ten degrees higher in the room thanks to his body heat.

“Did you watch Andy and Barney?” he asked as I splashed my face and scrubbed my teeth with a rigged toothbrush made of a utensil and cloth strips.

“I did.” I clicked off the light switch by the foot of the bed. Perhaps if I couldn't see how he looked, laid out with his arms crossed under his head, I’d calm down. “The Andy Griffith show was one of my favorites, too.”

He was quiet momentarily, then a deep breath heralded his words. “So, I guess tasting kerosene cucumbers is out of the question.”

The laugh barked out of me before I could stop it. It was an iconic episode where Aunt Bee tried to make her own dill pickles with disastrous results.

He sighed, the sound ending with a chuckle. “I should probably take Ernest T. Bass off my assassination list.”

“You have an assassination list.” My laughter choked.

“I’m the war chief of the Bardaga, Daisy. Of course, I have an assassination list."

I would swear Daicon was smiling.

“Well, just as long as I’m not on it.” I was fairly certain—and definitely hoped—he was teasing.

"No, Daisy. You will never be on the list.”

His voice was light, not breaking the playful mood between us, but the earnestness of his words felt like an embrace. I felt myself succumb to the warmth radiating from him, my eyelids growing heavy as his steady breathing lulled me into a peaceful slumber.