Page 17 of I'm Not Your Pet

Shit. No way.

I blinked in disbelief as Roark exchanged credits with the vendor, his back as ramrod straight as ever. He looked massive, even next to the other alien—who was easily a foot or two taller than I was. The vendor was a type of alien I’d seen before. They were common here. Green and slightly bulbous, similar to the “little green men” earthlings liked to populate stores with near Area 51. Only these guys had small beady eyes, and jowls that looked oddly like ballsacks hanging from their chins.

Ball chin or not, this dude’s booth smelled like paradise.

And it wasn’t like I was about to discriminate against a good donut.

Blue-shark-friend stood behind my back, guarding me dutifully as I watched Roark purchase not just one, but a whole goddamn box of donuts. Awholebox. For a single, uncharitable second I worried that he was about to eat them in front of me. That this would be a power play to show me my place right after I’d made it clear how badly I wanted one.

But that evil little voice faded quickly enough.

Roark had given me no reason to think so uncharitably of him. So I would do my best not to poison this before it had even begun. No one had ever really given me a reason to give them the benefit of the doubt before—but I was the kinda guy who did that anyway. Or at least…tried.

I might’ve drooled a bit when Roark walked back over. Because of the donuts, obviously. Not because of those huge-ass thighsflexing. Okay, yeah. Maybe both. He was hot? I couldn’t help it. When Roark very carefully offered the entire donut box to me, I wavered.

He opened the lid and I eyed the jelly-filled treats like they were traps. It felt too good to be true that he would purchase them for me, simply because I wanted them.

My stomach growled again and Roark gently wiggled the box to entice me.

“Huu-goh hungr-ee,” he repeated in his growly voice.

I reached for a donut, warily, waiting to be admonished.

But I never was.

Not even when I ate the whole box.

Thewholeentire box.

All on my own.

And Roark watched me the whole time. His expression never wavered but his spots were pink as we stood in the street and I stuffed my face like it’d been years since I’d last eaten. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was proud of himself. WhenI finished, Roark disposed of the box in the trash receptacle, and his warm hand found its place on the small of my back again.

Nervously, I licked sugar from my fingers. Roark’s hand didn’t move as we continued down the street toward the docks. He’d asked me if I wanted to stay here. I’d said no. But it hadn’t occurred to me till the last of the sweets were cleansed from my fingers, and a giant spaceship—the biggest that was parked—proved to be our end destination, that by choosing not to stay I was choosing to leave.

To leave the only place that was somewhat familiar, even if it was a prison.

I didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand why he’d take me in when we were so different. Why he’d taken the time to research my language enough to feed me. Why he was doing his best not to scare me. Why he had come back for me at all.

Today was…weird.

So fucking weird.

But I figured going with Roark couldn’t be worse than staying here. So, even though I was frightened and confused, I did my best to push those feelings aside. Excitement buzzed beneath the surface of my skin. A promise for newer, brighter things. To learn this world I’d been dropped inside of. To encounter more creatures to fill my journal with, and to explore places I never in my wildest dreams would’ve thought I could visit.

Hope was a tremulous, weak thing.

But it was still hope.

And that wasn’t something I’d had for a long, long time.

The transition was not as easy as I’d hoped it would be.

Part of it was my fault, I could admit that.

I’d been alone for years so I hadn’t been prepared for how odd it would feel to have another creature in my personal space—even one as frankly adorable as Huu-goh. It had been a long time since I’d been a cadet and shared a dorm with the others, and my time at the orphanage when I was a youth was nothing but a faded memory.

Which meant that I had some adjusting to do, just like he did.

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