Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“I’m serious. What’s going on with you? Are you contagious?” I wipe my hand on my pants at the thought. “If you are, I’ll kill you and I’ll make it hurt.”
“Noli,” he manages again. “I told you. It’s noli.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“I’ll tell you if you give me a drink of water.”
Even I’m not cruel enough to withhold a drink from an enemy. I lift my stun-stick, shaking it at him. “If you try anything, I’m aiming for your balls first.”
“Noted.” He doesn’t move from the floor.
Wary, I move toward my kitchen with the stun-stick tucked under my arm, the safety release on so I don’t accidentally taser myself. I get the glass from earlier and add fresh water, then bring it out to him. He takes the glass with his bound hands, and I notice that his hands are absolutely huge compared to mine, his fingers tipped with wicked-looking claws. But he drinks the water in huge, thirsty gulps, and I back away a step, watching him. “You’re going to get sick again if you drink like that. Small sips.”
“Small,” he agrees, and then takes one last gulp and lets his head fall back, still clutching the glass in his hands. “Kef, that was good. Thank you.”
“Water’s important,” I grumble. “I wouldn’t withhold it from my worst enemy.”
“You have a kind heart.” He pants heavily, his eyes closed.
For a long moment, all is quiet. I slide my gaze over to his crotch, but from what I can tell, he’s still as erect as ever. “You want to tell me what noli is now?”
“It’s the best and worst thing in the galaxy for praxiians. That’s my people.”
“I know what you are. I’m not ignorant.”
“Didn’t say you were.” He opens his eyes a slit. “It’s an aphrodisiac. One whiff of it and a praxiian goes into rutting mode. I think Chelsea and my brother are using it, and I caught a hint of it in the air and then boom. Instant erection.” He takes another sip of water. “Won’t go away, either. Keffing Chelsea doesn’t think ahead about this sort of thing. She just thinks about how much she wants to crawl into bed with Hrrrusek, and I’m the one that suffers.”
I’ve met Chelsea once or twice. Seemed nice, if a bit too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for me.
“So I tried taking some null roots,” he continues. “The guy that runs the general store told me they neutralize a lot of poisons. I ate two of them and they made me sick. And so now I’m on your floor, covered in puke and come, and wishing I’d come up with a better way to say hello.”
I ignore the smile he crooks in my direction. I’m not interested in men that are trying to be charming. Or any men right now, to be honest. I just want to be left alone. It’s safest. “So you came here hoping I’d fix you up with a med machine or something? Because I don’t have one. You’re shit out of luck.”
“Actually, I came over here hoping you’d smile real pretty and welcome me with open arms. That was the noli talking.” He grimaces and takes the last sip of water. “Now I just want my stomach to stop attacking itself.” He pauses and then gestures at his empty glass. “That, and another drink of water please.”
I scowl. I should just kick him out. Send him back on his way. He did come over here with the hopes of getting laid. “So you were going to rape me.”
He looks so appalled that I actually feel better. “I was going to woo you.”
The thought is so ridiculous that I snort.
“It might be hard to believe right now, given that I’ve puked like a soldier on his first bender, but it’s the truth. I’m not interested in forcing anyone.” The praxiian closes his eyes. “I’m Jrrru, by the way.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“I know. But I thought I’d tell you anyhow. Can I get your name?”
“No.”
“You look like a Barlia to me. If you won’t give me your name, I’ll call you that.” He settles on the floor, looking a little easier, and gestures at the glass again. “More water, sweet Barlia?”
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, even as I get up and get the glass from him. “And you shouldn’t drink more water if your stomach is queasy.”
“I could eat something.”
What does he think this is, a freaking inn? Am I a servant here to wait on him? The utter nerve. But then he makes a sick, moaning gurgle, and I wince. Didn’t I go through something like this when I was first “bought” as a slave? My owner—an ooli—had no idea what humans ate. He fed me the same thing he did and I got so violently ill that it took me weeks to recover. I remember that, and I remember all the parasites the medic had to pull from my system when I’d been brought to Risda III. Those had made me incredibly sick, too. It’s an awful feeling.