Page 148 of I'm Not Your Pet

Roark looked pleased with himself. “Noted,” he said softly. And then, “I loved it,” he’d added. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Good,” I’d told him, pecking his snout for good measure.

“I love you,” he’d replied, the same way I had just spoken to him.

I’d grinned, unable to help myself. “I’m so happy you’re my mate,” I’d hummed, because it was true.

Roark’s expression had softened even more. “You are the cleverest creature in all the galaxy,” he’d murmured with reverence. He’d told me that at least a thousand times since he’d bought us permanent translators, and I didn’t think that would ever get old. “The most beautiful being in the cosmos.”

“Mhmm,okay,” I’d snorted, though I didn’t tell him he was wrong.

Because even though I knew realistically, there wasn’t any way that I was?—

When Roark looked at me, I sure felt that way.

Three years had passed since then. Three blissful years. Three years full of laughter, of happiness—of birthdays. Birthdays Roark planned and executed with military precision dedicated to my happiness. I had never been more pampered, more appreciated, more adored in all my life.

He bought me a tamed Fruhg of my own—the same creatures I’d admired that first day. And I often spent mornings with him and our pet, walking it around the property, and playing with the children who came out to talk to us.

They found me fascinating—even after all this time. But everyone was polite. I’d made a few human friends too, over the years. Some of them had mates of their own now, and even children.

Apparently the birth-pods were capable of merging the DNA of multiple species. You’d think Sahrks and humans would make odd looking children, but they didn’t. For the most part, a lot of them looked human actually. Just with…quite a bit more teeth, and spots to match. They were as varied in color palette as their parents, but all were fucking adorable.

Roark had reserved a spot for us in the birth-pods after our next trip to space—and I was both excited and nervous for our future.

I wanted to raise children with him. I knew he’d be a fantastic father—and he assured me that he thought I would too. But the idea of taking the child to space with us when we went out supply-gathering made me nervous.

I figured…between the two of us we’d manage to keep them safe, however.

And it was trust, and faith in both Roark and myself that settled any fear I might have.

Together we could do anything we set our minds to.

I’d once thought, years ago when we’d been first courting, that Roark was an “effort” kinda guy, with a capital E. And here I was, a galaxy away, and that had only proven more and more correct the longer he was my husband. My parents had made me think that love was a cold, conditional thing.

But I knew now just how incorrect that had been.

Love wasn’t cold.

Love wassoftandwarmandwonderful.

It was squishy and pink.

It was a safe space when you needed one.

It was gentle, like Roark was.

Protective.

I’d been wrong, all those years ago, when I’d thought Roark would be the first to attend my parties. He wasn’t the first to arrive, he was the one thatplannedthem. He didn’t justbuy me flowers, and pizza, and cake—he wrote me love notes too. Awkward, horribly written love notes—that were far from eloquent, but meant the world all the same.

He didn’t just play my dumb games—he forced the others to play too.

He was the first to tell me happy birthday at the stroke of midnight.

His love was a silent, protective thing. He didn’t ask for anything in return. He didn’t ask for praise. Didn’t need recognition. He simply loved me…calmly, stoically, seriously. Like loving me was the single greatest mission of his life.

Roark had promised me the day we’d met that he would make things “okay.”

But he’d lied.

My life was as far from “okay” as it had ever been.

Because it was full of happiness, in a way I’d never known was possible.

And I had my big, pink, squishy alien to blame for that.

---