Page 29 of Taken to Lemora
He sucks in a breath, his eyelids fluttering over his striated eyes. So many colors. So many layers. Not unlike the male himself. “Would you like to?”
My fingers still. My heart catches.
His eyes fly open and they burn with fire hot enough to singe. Is he… “Are you…” He can’t possibly be… He doesn’t know me. Unless, the way I look is all he’s after. I find that thought immeasurably disappointing.
“Ohr. I’m not good at this. I…”
“Raingar. Uh…Essmira? Would you two bugger away from the window? You’re causing a traffic jam outside of my store!”
“Our store, Timor. Unless you’d like me to take these scissors and cut your useless fingers off with them…”
“Ohr! Our store,” Timor concedes.
I look left and sure enough, more faces shine in the window — this time, no less than a dozen. Raingar shoves away from the wall with a roar and shakes his fist at the lookie-loos.
“Why don’t you creeping knackars mind your own ohring business? Pagh!” He shouts more insults, calling them knackars — insects — dung, asteroids, space junk, and a fascinating array of synonyms foridiotbefore turning back around and huffing around at the inside of the fabric shop.
“What? What are you staring at now!” He shouts at Lyla and Timor.
Timor’s grimacing and looking anywhere but at Raingar. Lyla’s laughing uproariously behind her hand. “You’re definitely going to need new pants now, Raingar. Though I think we’ll be needing to take the next pairoutinstead of in.”
I see what she’s referring to — it’s uhmm…impossible to miss — but I don’t dare look down at the massive erection screaming at me from the peripheries of my gaze — screaming at me tostare.Raingar looks down at his pants as if confused and then shrieks in terror, like he’s just sprouted a cock for the first time, or was only now made aware of it.
I snort so hard my eyes roll back and, when Raingar dances around, showing us his back as he tries to shake out his legs and…I don’t know, tuck his impressive length somewhere, true laughter spills out.
“Ohr the lot of you,” he shouts over his shoulder before snatching a heavy drape off of one of the tables and stomping towards the door. “Essmira, are you coming?”
“I haven’t gotten the material for your pants yet.” He hesitates on the threshold and I feel horrible for delaying him. He’s clearly uncomfortable. “It’s alright. I can get it the coming solar…”
“Nonsense. We’ll make sure you get to where you need to go alright. Stay with us the solar. I’ll give you some tips on how to shape trousers for Lemoran dimensions,” Lyla offers.
“She doesn’t need your ohring help. Don’t you see what she’s wearing? She made that cloak and the dress beneath it herself! In one lunar!”
Lyla looks at me anew and I feel pride sparkle across my chest. Raingar likes my dress? I beam at him, but he doesn’t see it. He’s too busy shouting at the folks still gathered outside of the shop.
“Are you familiar with creating clothing for other species?” Lyla says.
“Most definitely. It was one of the only trades Igmora allowed me to learn. I’m quite adept at it.”
“And you enjoy it?” Lyla says and I stutter. Enjoyment. She cares if I enjoy it.
I nod. “More than anything else I know how to do yet.”
Her lips quirk and she shouts over her shoulder. “You alright if we take care of your miriga for you, Raingar?”
“Mir…miriga?” He says, and I wonder if this is an invented word because Raingar seems just as confused as I am by her use of it.
Her eyes sparkle. “Yeffa. I think we could use an extra set of hands around here. Especially with the extra customers we’re likely to have once you’re finished blocking the door.”
“Pagh!” Raingar tuts and huffs and stomps his feet. He’s still holding the sheet away from his body, preventing me from being able to see his erection and what’s become of it.
He looks stressed enough as it is, so I smile and say, “I’d really love to stay, if it’s alright with you.”
“Off! You infernal creatures. Don’t let anything happen to her or I’ll break off your horns and shove them down your throat!” He shouts at Lyla, startling me with his ferocity. “And you.” He points at Timor and is downright murderous when he says, “I know you wear white horns so you’ll understand me when I say no. touching.”
Timor just chuckles. “Trust me, Raingar. You’re not the one I’m afraid of. Have you met Merelda?”
Raingar’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t respond. He just turns his gaze to me then. I nod. “I’ll be fine.”
