Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Ah. Now the negotiating begins. She has seen the error of her ways. I do my best to hide my smirk. "They are quite legitimate and very expensive."
"And you're going to pay me enough to get one if I help you out with servant stuff?" She flicks her fingers as if shooing a bug. "Just until you clear things up with Zebah?"
"Until then, yes. I will pay you handsomely to be my servant, and you will get a carinoux, and I will keep your secrets."
"Goddamn it. FINE." She storms out of the room again. "I'll draw you a fucking bath, you big lousy crybaby."
All is quiet for a brief pause. I relax on the bed, waiting.
"I still hate you," she yells back at me.
And I smile, because I got my way.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
MAEVE
I wonder if I could poison his bath.
It seems a little drastic, but anyone that spends five minutes in his presence would absolutely understand. He's impossible, and so the only solution is to kill it with fire or drown it in a tub. Despite my increasingly angry thoughts towards Zhur, I shut the door to the bathroom and clank my hairbrush against everything I can to make it seem like I'm doing a lot of work. I turn the faucet on and fill the tub with room-temperature water, and splash around a bit more. If he didn't know how the kitchen worked, I'm going to gamble that he doesn't know how the bath facilities work.
Why is he so damn helpless, though? His comments about servants make me think he was rich back home. Like, insanely rich, never worked a day in his life rich. That would explain a lot, like the thirty trunks he claims are missing. And that fluffy white fur that will probably turn snarled the moment he gets out of the tub.
I wonder if I should be afraid of him. He's huge and could probably overpower me in a heartbeat. I'm not getting a rapey vibe from him and I've screeched at him for the last hour. He seems just as appalled to be with me as I am with him.
I am gonna have so many unpleasant things to say to Kazex when I find him. I'm tempted to send a message on the comm unit, but I'm not entirely sure that it's not being monitored. Leaving a message that says "Hey, my contraband cat is actually a stowaway" kinda puts a target on me.
I'll hunt him down tomorrow, I decide, and then I splash a bit of the water on my face and emerge from the bathroom with a bucket, feigning exhaustion. "There. Your bath is drawn, Lord Hairball." I stand in the tiny hall and give him a mock bow. "Enjoy. Also, we need to discuss my payment amount."
He sits up on my bed and scratches his chest. "I told you. I'll pay you enough to acquire a carinoux."
He could be fucking with me, I realize. A carinoux could be the space version of an alley cat and they're free for the taking and I'm going to work my ass off for nothing. "Do you have a data pad?"
"Regrettably, no." Zhur frowns. "I was told it would compromise my position. You have one?"
"I have a really old model with a cracked screen. It's probably refurbished."
He blinks catlike eyes at me. "I have no idea what that means."
"No, I guess you wouldn't." I'm amused despite myself. I clasp my hands in front of me. "So here's what I was thinking. To prove you're not lying to me, we can look up carinoux on a data pad and you can find me some vids that talk about how expensive they are so I believe you."
Zhur looks absolutely appalled.
"What?"
"You can't read? My servant is uneducated?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from screaming. "I can read and write English. Not your language, all right? I was kept in a fish tank for years and fed when they remembered and ignored the rest of the time. Not a ton of opportunity to learn alien languages, much less a cat man language, okay? And I never agreed to be your servant until five minutes ago. So give me a break."
He blinks at me again, scratching through the thick fur on his chest once more.
"Well?"
"Are you going to tell me your life story every time I ask you a question? My bath is getting cold."
Oh my god, why do I even bother? I throw my hands up. "All yours. Go with God."
He peers into the bathroom and eyes the small tub at the base of the shower. "You're not going to wash me?"
Is he joking?
He's joking.
He has to be joking.
But he waits patiently, naked, for my answer.
"No. No, I am not going to wash you."
"Hmph." He mutters something under his breath about lazy servants and I choose to ignore it, slamming the bathroom door shut when he enters.