Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
He’s willing to help…in exchange for a date.
Michaela warns him that she’s just using him. He’s fine with being used, as long as it involves kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.
She’s determined not to fall in love. He’s just happy to be of service. No commitments…right? Right.
(I think we all know how this story goes…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER
ONE
AITHAR
“Oh my god, this butter!” Ruthie moans over something in the mess hall.
“I know, right? It’s so good.” Her sister Ruth makes a happy sound. “Pass me some more dry noodles. They work amazingly as crackers.”
From my spot on the bridge, I hit the “retrieve” command on the comm unit, but there’s no new messages, no incoming chatter, no nothing. Risda III is in the middle of nowhere—what Lord Straik jokingly calls “the armpit of the universe.” It’s very pastoral and remote, but that also means that it’s very, very quiet.
Which is difficult for a communications officer who is desperately trying to stay busy.
Normally, I do not mind the quiet days. With the ship docked at Risda III, there are fewer crew members aboard as Lord Straik and Lady Ruth remain low profile, contemplating their future. His mother is under investigation, and with corsairing no longer an option, the ship’s purpose hangs in limbo. Some of us a’ani crew will be retiring to Port here to run a cantina for humans, but I haven’t yet decided. Initially I thought I’d stay, find a human woman to mate, and start a family.
But it seems that no human women want me. I can only conclude that an a’ani is not prized as a mate when there are others around. And who can blame them? We are a race that is cloned for grunt work. We have no value in the eyes of many. Every time I have attempted to woo a human, someone else has captured her heart. I am seen as a friend only.
I do not mind being a friend.
I do mind being only a friend.
My once-love Melody recently returned to a mesakkah male who stole her heart years ago. Perhaps that is why I feel so lost and alone right now. It is not that I wanted Melody in particular—though I did like her quite a bit—it is that I am feeling rejected by the universe in general. Everyone seems to have someone. Melody has Brux. Lady Ruth has Lord Straik.
“Oh my god, this butter!”
Ruthie has butter.
She also has Kazex, but the sounds the sister-clones are making as they devour the lactation by-product are vaguely disturbing. I feel as if I should not be listening in to this particular conversation…and yet it is not a conversation. It is just them slurping and licking in an obscenely loud fashion and moaning dramatically.
Over butter.
Butter is more desirable than an a’ani mate. I bite back another sigh of pure self-loathing.
“Is that the last of it?” Lady Ruth says, voice mournful. A plas-wrapper crinkles. “Where did it come from? How do we get more?”
More crinkling. “I know Ruth-Ann said she was getting some locally sourced ingredients to see what we can use for the cantina. Maybe this was part of it? Were we not supposed to eat it?”
“I…don’t know.”
A moment later, two human sets of feet make clomping noises down the hall, and I brace myself for a confrontation. I’m the only other person on the ship, other than Lord Straik, who is currently on a long vid-comm with an old Homeworld relative. Ruth and Ruth-Ann appear on the bridge a moment later, both of them with glittering eyes that they fix on me.
“Aithar! Have you seen Ruth-Ann?”
“No.” I want to point out that I am communications. That I am just in charge of anything that comes through the comm unit. But I am also very sour right now and I know that is not the fault of Ruth or her sister-clones. “She is most likely in Port with the others.”
“Probably harassing that poor cookie woman again,” Ruth mutters, glancing at Ruthie. She holds the wrapper out to me. “Do you know anything about the snacks that Ruth-Ann was acquiring for the cantina? Are you familiar with Space Butter Farms?”
“I am not.” I imagine it is a local human farm and I do not visit them. The humans do not appreciate “aliens” visiting their homesteads and it has been made clear to the crew that we should remain in Port unless we have good reason otherwise.
Besides, I have not felt like sightseeing on a planet full of beautiful human females that are not interested in me. I am moping.
“Okay, well, we need more of this butter she got. Like, lots more,” Lady Ruth says, holding the wrapper out to me.
Ruthie nods, her earrings jingling. “Perfect for bar snacks. That’s your domain, isn’t it?”
“It is not,” I remind them. “Ruth-Ann is creating the menu. I am helping her implement it, that’s all.” I’m not as good with construction as the others. My skill lies in comms and I speak and read seventeen alien languages. Unless they need something read or written, I am not much use at the moment.
“Implementation is exactly what we need. This needs implementing!” They thrust the wrapper at me. “Go and buy all of this that you can, please.”