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)
Maeve is not convinced. "So if marrying me is like marrying the family dog and you'd be the laughingstock, why do it?"
I put a hand to the front of my ill-fitting clothing. "Because right now, my heart is still beating faster than it should. Because I do not want to live in constant fear every time I see a Port custodian. Because I am not on Praxii Minor right now. I am here, and marrying you will make me safe. Right now, I want that safety more than anything."
She eyes me. "Marriage in name only? Platonic?"
"Have I made you fear for your human virtue at any point?" I retort. "You are quite safe with me." Though even now, I am thinking about that soft, furless shoulder and how pleasant she smells. I shove the thoughts aside. This is a business agreement.
Maeve screws up her face again and tilts her head, studying me. "We'll have to lay some ground rules."
"Ground rules, air rules, whatever rules you wish to make, we will do them," I agree, relief sweeping over me. "Speak them and I will agree to them."
Her finger twirls in my direction. "And we need to do something about all of that. You're a wreck."
I do not disagree. "I would like nothing more than a shower and to groom myself."
"If you want a disguise, can I suggest something? Actually, not just a suggestion," she continues. "If we're going to get married, I'm going to insist upon this as your wife."
"What is it?" I ask, wary.
"We're going to dye your hair orange," she says. "Since you want a disguise. And we're going to cut your hair. Because I am a nice person, but even I have limits. I'm not going to spend two hours a day detangling you, and all that long, fussy hair is going to get in the way of your farm work. So if you want yourself a human wife, you need a shave."
She...she cannot be serious. "No. Absolutely not."
Maeve's eyes gleam.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
MAEVE
While Zhur takes a shower to get rid of the first layer of dirt, I consider what we'll need for his makeover. Scissors to cut some of his gnarled mane away. Maybe a shaver - I think I have one in the barn for when the livestock get burrs stuck in their coats. Dye, because he doesn't want to be a snow-white-furred alien anymore. I don't blame him. If someone was hunting for me, the first thing I'd do is chop my hair and dye it. I get out more of the orange-yellow spices and then mix up a concoction on the countertop, remembering hair plasters from teenage sleepovers with my girlfriends. I pour some oil into a bowl and add some eggs, then dump in the spices. It's not quite mayonnaise, but it'll do. I also dig out plas-film because if I show up with bright orange palms and a bright orange groom, people are going to ask questions.
Zhur comes out of the bathroom with his mane dripping water and a miserable expression on his face. "I'm going to look like a mess," he grumbles even as he sits on the chair I've placed in the kitchen.
"You already look like a mess," I tell him in a cheerful voice. "You're just going to look like a different mess."
"Lovely."
"We don't have to do it," I say, picking up my comb and tackling a damp tuft on his shoulder. The comb gets stuck right away and I wince. Good lord, he's snarled. Maybe all that bitching about hair product was legit. "You can remain white and fluffy and let everyone ask questions."
He sighs heavily. Dramatically.
"No. Let's do it."
I get the scissors and snip the tuft on his shoulder.
He bellows as if I've cut him, jerking away. "Female!"
"What!? I thought we agreed you need a makeover?" I pick up the clump of hair from the floor and plop it back on his shoulder. "You don't think you need a haircut? Because, newsflash, your mane is nothing but snarls and no farmer is going to spend two hours a day on his hair. If you want to play the part, you have to look the part."
Zhur bares his teeth at me. "How am I supposed to return looking like a ragged farmer?"
"That's a problem for future you, isn't it?" I put my hand on my hip and make snipping motions in the air with the scissors. "Cut or not?"
His jaw snaps shut and he glares, his brows low with displeasure. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"Not a clue. Did you want to do it?"
Gaze flicking to my scissors, he shakes his head after a moment. "I know as much as you."
"All right, then." I shake my arms out like I'm an athlete, tilting my head from side to side and then bouncing in place. "Here. We. Go."