Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Rektar goes still. His big throat works, and he swallows hard.
Shit. "I'm sorry. Did I ask something inappropriate?"
He shakes his head. "Not at all. It is just…my past is shameful. I was born a bastard to a lesser house. My mother gave me up shortly after birth so I would not bring shame to their name. My family name is al'Aira'n because I served at al'Aira Base when I was growing up. The enunciation at the end tells that it is a name assigned by my unit, not given at birth." His polite smile is faint. "It is a shameful thing and one that most do not bring up."
"I'm so sorry. I really stepped in it, didn't I?"
"Not at all." He pokes at his food, as if hesitant to eat any more. "But now you know why I am out here on Risda III."
"Because you're a bastard?"
Rektar nods. "No matter how well I perform as a soldier, I will only be able to rise so far due to the stain of my birth. This was not a post any logical male would want, so it was assigned to me."
Jeez. "What about Khex? Is he a bastard too?"
He chuckles. "No. I had a good record but a bad name, and so I am here. Khex has a bad record and a good name."
"So he's a naughty boy?" I say, smiling. "And you're the good guy?"
"Something like that." Rektar's smile widens.
My heart aches at the sight of it, because he really is handsome. I love his big, broad features and his shy smile. It doesn't surprise me that he's one that plays by all the rules. I feel bad that life hasn't been fair to him, but then again, it hasn't been all that fair to me, either. Thinking about Khex brings me to a good segue, though. I pick up the last of the tahaari pie, which seems to be his favorite, and dish it onto his plate. I don't blame him for liking it—it's a bit like the sweet potato pie from home, but with a slightly spicier zing to it. It's one of my favorites to make, and normally I'd eat a lot more of it, but for now, I like feeding him. "So…about Khex. Is he…single?"
"He does not have a mate, if that is what you are asking."
"Got his eye on anyone in particular on Risda?"
"Not that I am aware of?" He stares down at the last piece of pie in his plate and then looks up at me. "Why do you ask?"
Time to lay it all out on the table. "Because I think I need a husband," I state point-blank. "And I was wondering if he was up for the job."
26
REKTAR
I am good at hiding my emotions, for the most part. A lifetime of military service and of never having anything to claim for my own has allowed me to mask when I am angry or upset. I finish eating Lucy's fine dinner, make conversation with her, and then I excuse myself back out to the barn for the night, all the while managing to somehow keep it together.
In reality, I am seething with jealousy.
Khex. She wants to know if Khex is available for her to mate with. I like Khex—he is impossible not to like with his easygoing nature—but right now, I want to punch him for stealing Lucy's heart.
I want Lucy for myself. I want that female to look at me with adoration. I want her to wear her low-cut tunics to bed with me. I want to eat her fine meals and wake up with her in my arms. I want to hear her joyous laughter every day. I want all these things…and she wants Khex.
It must be because I am a bastard. Not for the first time, I curse my lot in life and the noble parents that gave me up without giving their names. I have never been wanted. I am used to that. But I have also never wanted anything as much as I want Lucy. It's hard to believe that she is willing to mate with an alien…and she has her sights on Khex.
To say I am disappointed is an understatement.
Of course she wants him. He is tall and strong and comes from a decent family. He is easy to get along with and has a smile for everyone. He talks easily with others and never worries that he frightens them. Meanwhile I have massive hands and arms, and some of the females in town cross the street when they see me. I am too large to make them comfortable.
I would never hurt Lucy. Never.
Fighting back my bitter disappointment, I head out to the barn. The meat-stock are out in the field because the weather is mild, and the only scents here are those of old hay and machinery…and Lucy's laundry. The primal scent of her clothing feeds into my aching need for her and I can resist no longer. I tug at my belt, loosening it, and then undo the front of my trou, shoving them down to my knees. When my cock springs free, I grab it and stroke hard, imagining Lucy's smile. Her sweet, sweet smile.