Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I’ll have freedom.
Fresh air.
Other humans.
I’m so miserable I want to scream. For a moment, I contemplate raising the pillow in my lap to my face and just screaming, screaming, screaming into it, but I don’t. Years of slavery have taught me to mask my emotions. I’ve been masking like a champ for this last week, too. Zakoar thinks I’m thrilled to be coming here. I’ve smiled and thanked him and let him know how much I appreciate him. How he’s been so kind to me.
He’s grown tired of me. The answer is obvious. He’s keeping his end of the bargain, exactly as he promised.
It’s not his fault I’ve fallen in love with him. It’s certainly not his fault that I’m a clingy human who would rather stay at his side forever, even if it means being on Three Nebulas and breathing recycled air. I just want to wake up with him every morning, see his smiles every day, be his partner in life. Heck, I’d settle for just being around him and knowing that someone’s taking care of him.
Actually, no, I wouldn’t. I’m selfish and jealous and the thought of another woman touching him makes me want to scream.
I clench my fists on the pillow and hug it to my chest, glaring out at the beautiful planet as it comes closer and closer. I’ve done my best to conceal how I feel from Zakoar. He isn’t going to want a needy, whiny slave begging him to keep her. Not when he’s spent so much money on this trip to release me. Not when that’s been the plan all along.
Perhaps he senses my despair. It would explain why he’s been remote this week. We still make love and touch, but the conversation doesn’t flow between us like it normally does and sometimes I catch him looking pensive. He must know this is hard for me and he’s doing his best to make the split clean and amicable.
I hug the pillow as The Nebula Skimmer descends smoothly onto a large landing pad. It floats in the air, and all around us are other saucer-like landing pads, dotting the port like a lily pad. At the bottom of the “pond” is the town itself. It looks charmingly small, no more than a few streets, and I watch as something that looks like an air car races down one of the roads. Beyond the tiny town itself, there are vast fields as far as the eye can see, green and lush and beautiful. In the distance, there are herds of what must be space cattle, and I want to cry with how lovely and serene it is…and how much I want to be anywhere but here.
Zakoar leans over, glancing out the window. He hasn’t watched the sights like I have, his focus on his data pad as he runs portions of his business from afar. He’s so close to me I can smell the machine oil and musk scent that is uniquely him, and the urge to cry only grows greater. “Is it what you expected?” he asks.
The knot in my throat is immense, but I manage a bright smile. “It is,” I admit. Risda is exactly what I thought it would be. “It’s beautiful.”
He takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb against my skin, and I fight to compose myself. By the time The Nebula Skimmer lands and a crew member arrives to tell us that they’re ready for us to disembark, I’m composed again. I clutch at Zakoar’s hand as he grabs my bag—just mine—and slings it over his shoulder, carrying it for me.
I cling to him as we head down the ramp and the wind rips at my hair and my dress. Despite the pastoral views, the breeze is high and makes the entire landing pad shiver. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping that the clean, unpolluted air will make me fall instantly in love with this place.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Nope. Still want to leave.
We check in with the port authorities, letting them retina scan and take handprints for their records. The moment we’re free, a woman approaches us, her cloak whipping about her frame. She’s human, with a beaming smile across her pretty face. “Are you Tessa?” she asks in a chirpy voice. “I’m Lucy, and I thought I’d be your welcoming committee as you get acquainted with Risda!”
She sticks a hand out, all cheerfulness. Lucy is mixed race, with light brown skin, dark eyes, and thick black hair tied back in a braid. She’s curvy, with a bosom that would make any man do a double-take, and her simple clothing is cut to show off those assets. Best of all, she gives Zakoar a smile of greeting and then focuses back on me, excitement in her eyes. She’s not afraid of him or treating him like he’s a freakshow, and for that, I instantly adore her.