“Do we have time? Is it safe?”
My heart lurches at her honest, candid expression. She may not think it, but she does trust me.
Why else would she bother asking me if it were safe?
“Leigh,” I say, my voice low and too rough for the beautiful flower of femininity next to me. “I would kill to keep you safe.”
“Er,” she says, her long, pale lashes fluttering. “I am not sure that means it’s safe.”
“You are safe with me. Besides, the longer we spend here, the longer we are seen together, the better to spread the word of our mating.” A quick glance around tells me word of our arrival has already spread.
Good. All the better for rumors to get back to the Overlord, to Roth itself.
Everything will go according to plan, and it doesn’t matter whether or not she knows the plan. As long as it all looks… real.
A pack of heavily furred Elkund brushes by too closely, and I growl a warning, causing the leader to cast me a speculative glance.
I tuck Leigh closer to my body, my hand possessive on her hip.
I lead her towards the rows of carts. She trails slightly behind me, lagging as she soaks in the many different trinkets and technologies and foods. A lump forms in my throat. It is strange, watching her take it in for the first time.
The surprise and delight on her face makes me feel like I’m experiencing it all for the first time again, too. I buy her several different treats, and she stays close to my side, silent and wary as I haggle with the various vendors.
The first is a stick of roasted gadkri, popular with the Drazox. She takes a careful sniff, and I stifle a laugh at the adorable expression on her face. After one bite, she spits it out, and sweat beads along her forehead.
“Too spicy,” she gasps. “That should be illegal.”
“It is, on some planets,” I tell her, infinitely amused, handing her a cup of chelda to wash the taste out.
“You must really hate me, to give me that one first.” She scrubs at her tongue with the now empty cup, and I grow hard at the sight of her wet, pink mouth.
“I don’t hate you,” I tell her fervently. “Not at all.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of Roth, dressed in battle gear, but mismatched. Not the Overlord’s troops then, but mercenaries. One points at me, and I narrow my eyes at him, baring my teeth in warning.
Not yet. Not until after we have completed the necessary shopping.
I tug Leigh closer to me. “My mate,” I tell her in a soft voice. “I could never hate you. You might drive me mad with your strange ways, but that is because I am entirely, utterly obsessed with you. From your flame-red hair down to your tiny toes, I want to memorize every inch of your body and wring pleasure from you without cease every night.”
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” she grumbles.
I grin at her though. Despite her protests and prickly demeanor, her arousal scent clouds around her, thick and heady.
“Try this.” I hand her a small wooden boat with a gelatinous puddle in it, guiding her down the corridor that will take us to the tailor that specializes in Roth clothing and armor.
And away from the mercenaries.
She takes it from me, sniffing it, as if her paltry senses will be able to suss out anything about the delicacy.
“What is it?”
“Kuchdi. It’s sweet.” I don’t tell her anything else about it. I fear that anything else I tell her will sour her against it.
I hand her the utensil used for eating. She dips it into the treat, depositing the tiniest amount on the tip of her tongue. I glance between her face and the hallway, narrowly avoiding collision, rapt as I am in her expression.
“This is… this tastes like birthday cake,” she finally says, then spoons a huge amount into her mouth, beaming.
“It is a Roth dessert,” I tell her, so pleased that my entire chest seems to swell. “My favorite.”
“Oh.” Irritation and surprise flit across her expressive face. “It’s Roth?”
I frown. “Is it so hard to believe that my species made something you enjoy? I can think of many things that you would enjoy…”
A furious red creeps back into her cheeks, and she dumps the boat into a nearby trash receptacle, defiant as ever.
We arrive at the tailor too soon. I could watch her sample food all day, I think. My hand slips to the small of her back, and I propel her in front of me. True to her word, she plays the part of my mate, letting me touch her.
I wish she would always let me touch her.
The tailor glances up from the long, low table at the back of the store, fabric spread all over. A twang of longing that has nothing to do with the delectable female beside me winds my body tight.
I inhale deeply, closing my eyes.
Home. This place smells like home.
“Welcome, old friend,” the Roth tailor says, inclining his head in respect. “News of your arrival has already spread through the station.” He turns his gaze on Leigh, curiosity lighting his dark eyes. “It must have been hard to try to keep the news of your mate’s escape from Nyria V49 secret.”
I bite back a groan.
Like many of our species, this Roth deals in gossip and information as much as he does fabric and energy-rimmed armor. He’s fishing, but he clearly knows enough to know who and what Leigh is to me.
I don’t know why that bothers me so much, considering I have her with me for precisely that reason: to spread the news of our mating. To garner support among my people, to show them that there is a path to renewal of our species that does not involve war and the Overlord.
He makes it sound cheap, though. He makes Leigh sound… undesirable, and it makes me angry.
Leigh slips the hood off her head, her chin held high.
Fresh desire surges through me.
“You’re right,” she tells him easily, her green eyes burning with fury. “I’m his mate, and as such, I am the queen. Is this any way to treat royalty in your store? Nydo, I don’t think I want clothes from here after all.”
My mouth opens. She shoots me a perceptive look, and I snap it shut.
“Apologies,” the tailor says, dropping his head, then beating his shoulder twice in the traditional gesture of respect. “I meant no harm.”
“What you meant doesn’t matter. It’s what you said that does.” Leigh doesn’t move an inch, staring at him with unflinching green eyes, hard as ice straight from the caves of Northern Roth. “Nydo and I will not tolerate disrespect.”
I clear my throat, squeezing the curve of her hip. “If you do not wish to clothe my queen, we will find another.”
I truly hope Leigh doesn’t follow through with her posturing, because he’s the best on the station.
“I do. Please, my queen, I have a rack of traditional garments already arranged for you.”
“Lock the doors,” Leigh says imperiously, and the tailor scurries to do her bidding, as my little redhead marches towards the clothes, peeling one off the rack. “I assume this is where I try on?”
I sweep in front of her, opening the door and checking inside for any possible threats.
Leigh follows me in, then collapses against the corner, where the tailor can’t see her. She’s shaking, and a fine sweat beads her brow. My eyebrows raise, the bitter tang of her fear coating my tongue.
“You are safe,” I tell her. Impulsively, I squeeze her arm through my cloak. “You did well,” I add in a low tone.
She nods once, gathering herself, holding up the black fabric and examining it.
“My mate, let me know what pleases you,” I say, louder this time.
“I’ll try it on by myself.” She scowls at me, back to herself, obviously.