Page 30 of Bred By Fafnir

“Gave up,” he offers.

“Yeah. He gave up.”

“It is a terrible thing to not trust your own mind.”

I want to get upset, to yell and throw things again, but I’m exhausted and everything aches. Mostly, I know he’s not wrong. I cannot fathom how horrible it must be. So, I just nod instead as he kneels in front of me, water soaking his handsome, severe face. “We can keep doing yourcalming exercises. You can ask your questions and take notes, if it will help balm the pain you carry.”

I choke back a sob.

When I’m dry and he’s lain me in the clean bed, I’m asleep seconds after my head hits the pillow, wondering what life would look like if I stayed.

twenty-one

Thelasttwomonthshave been… wonderful. He’s kept his word, even paid for an outrageously expensive intergalactic receiver so I can access the web. Which has only furthered my suspicions about thiswar madness, although I keep it to myself so long as he continues to be a test subject. Our days are filled with soft looks, ravenous touches, and a surprising number of smiles and laughter. I’m achy and regaled to lounging around like a pampered princess most days, which doesn’t bother me a bit. I’ve spent my life working, the greater majority of all twenty-six years of it. It’s nice to be coddled. Also, we don’t have much of a choice. I’m bred at least once a day, usually just the tip of his mating cock, but a few times since the first, all of it, which puts my lady bits out of commission for a while.

Still, my stomach remains flat. Judging by the limited research on Bhaurnul gestation, my contract will probably be extended ifpregnancy doesn’t occur soon. Within the next month at the latest. I’m required to extend to the end of my pregnancy and nursing period, anyway. Not that I mind… not even a bit. Evidently, where Bhaurnul females carry for a year, having terribly low birth survival rates, something about their uterine shape, human women tend to go into labor early. A Bhaurnul child and human mother haven’t had complications yet, but the pregnancy is said to be… unpleasant. Which I had been warned about due to their size. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get pregnant in one of my last months here and get another year extension.

A long sigh leaves my throat as I peek out of the window at the Zylari running circles in her little nesting box before darting out of it. She recovered quickly, but has stuck around, much to Fafnir and Val’s displeasure. The colossal beast eventually gave in, bunkering down with his herd for the rest of the winter. He looked tired, uncomfortable in the last weeks before he gave in. I had to stay at the Sihlih shelter until he’d fallen into his rest, or he’d just get up when I did and follow me out. Like he somehow knew this was temporary, that maybe when he woke next, I’d be gone. The night I stayed with him had been incredibly long. My exposed skin chapped and raw. It’d been miserable but worth every second.

The food replicator dings, and I nearly skid into the kitchen to get to it before the dammed giant does something to the food. He’s halfway there when I come to a stop, my thick hair slapping me in the face. “No! You promised!”

He rolls his eyes, something new he’s picked up and uses often. “A promise made while your lips are around my cock is taken under duress and hardly a promise at all.”

I giggle at that, because he’s not entirely wrong, but I am entirely uncaring.

His deep-set golden eyes track my every move, setting my belly on fire as I step up to the counter. He doesn’t hesitate, knowing what I want. Strong, rough hands band around my waist, lifting me and plopping me down beside the food replicator. I lean over, not missing the way he pushes into me, lingering like always as I retrieve the food, a shit-eating grin on my face.

“It looks like worms, female,” he breathes, his lips curled in disgust.

“This is an Old Earth delicacy!”

“Perhaps that iswhythere is no longer an Earth.”

I give him a pointed glare at that. “I hardly thinkspaghettiis the reason for mankind’s downfall.” Although it very well could’ve been, in a different timeline, humans of Old Earth were weird like that.

“It is inedible,” he grumps, glaring at the bowl as if it’s a threat.

“You haven’t even tried it.”

“Sometimes the world is better for its mystery.”

“Truly? A giant, horned, big, bad, scary warrior alien is throwing a hissy fit over noodles?”

“My fits are nothissyin nature,” he bristles.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“It is offensive, no doubt, if it is coming from your lips.”

I sigh, letting the hot bowl rest on my bare thighs, warming them. As the winter drags on, there is no longer any daylight to be seen. Warmth harder to come by. “Look, what if we do this Lady and the Tramp style?”

He side eyes me.

“An Old Earth cartoon. It’s one of my favorite pieces of the recovered media. Next to Tarzan.”

He stills.

I still.

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