When She's Wary (Risdaverse, #11)

by Ruby Dixon

“Oh. Oh kef, that’s disgusting,” I groan aloud. My mouth fills with water at the acrid taste and I want nothing more than to spit it out. Instead, I force myself to keep chewing, determined to suffer through. “The cure is keffing worse than the cause.” I choke down the first root and then rub my hand over my cock. Still throbbing and hard. Maybe I need another. Maybe noli is so potent that I need lots of null root. The thought makes me queasy, but I pull out another and chomp on it with grim determination. “Even worse the second time around,” I grumble to the animal nosing me. The meat-stock tries to eat my root and I push her nose away. “Trust me, you do not want this.”

I pull up my data pad and comm my brother. No answer. Not surprising, considering he’s probably balls-deep into his pretty little mate. Chelsea is a nice enough human, friendly and full of laughter, but there’s a wild streak to her that’s not my favorite. Hrrrusek loves her with all his heart, though, and I’m content that he’s so happy. It was probably Chelsea’s idea to break out the noli and Hrrrusek went right along with it, because he gets intense sex for the next…six? eight? hours. Actually, it might be longer. I don’t know how long noli lasts.

I glance down at my still-hard cock. “Go down, you.” When it doesn’t respond, I stare at the roots in my hand. “I hope I don’t have to eat all of these keffing things.”

Go to Port? No, too far. Back to the barn? Ugh. Idly, I turn my gaze to the horizon, where there’s a small homestead up on the hill. Chelsea mentioned in passing that her neighbors on each side are female and that they’re not particularly friendly. Human female, though… Unmated human female. My cock throbs again and a spurt of pre-cum wets my trou. Despite the null root churning in my gut, I push off of the sled and start walking, heading determinedly towards the house on the horizon. I won’t rape a female, of course.

But I can get her to like me. I’m the charming brother, the funny one. I’ll give her a smile, purr a little in her direction, and she’ll be eating out of my hand.

If someone charges through, they’re about to get a face full of rusty nails. Something heavy slides against the door, and I hear a mumbled “Help.” Then, a thump, like someone’s fallen to the floor. I pause. It was a deep male voice, which is bad news. But they asked for help, and that’s throwing me off. The only males in this area are all alien, but most of them also have jobs that allow them to work here. The custodians. That weird-looking guy that helps the veterinarian. My neighbor’s new husband. If it’s him and he dies on my doorstep…is she going to come seeking revenge?

“Help,” the man says again. Then, he vomits all over the thorn bushes I have planted under the windows. Shit. I open the door a crack and peer out at him. When he doesn’t immediately spring through my door, I start to suspect it’s not a trap after all and he really is sick. “What’s wrong?” I bark at him. “Who are you? Why are you here?” He groans, rolling onto his back. “Water.” Frowning, I clutch my bat and back up a few steps. “If I get you a drink, will you leave?” The stranger doesn’t respond, just makes more pitiful noises. And maybe I really am a fool, because he sounds miserable. If I was in this position, I’d want someone to help me, too.

The cat-alien—the praxiian—isn’t the one married to my neighbor. I’ve seen that one. He’s a dull color—more beige than orange—and has one piercing in his ear. This one is a more vivid striped orange and his ear is studded with rings. He looks leaner than the other, too. I don’t like that there’s two praxiians nearby. I don’t like that at all. Nor do I like that this one is a stranger that’s made his way into my home. Instead of staying on the porch, he’s belly-crawled onto my floor, his flat pink nose pressed to the tile. He’s panting and shivering, and then he braces one hand on the tile as if he’s going to get up.

is Ruby gonna make him have the typical orange cat vibes? lol

The tunic he’s wearing is damp with his vomit, and if he keeps rolling around on my floor, he’s going to continue to make a mess. I decide to cut the soiled tunic off of him. He can explain that to the custodians later…if I turn him over. If he’s a threat to me, I can just bury his remains in my compost pile. With my knife, I approach him, checking to see if he’s waking. It seems like he’s still passed out, so I crouch over him and cut down the front of his clothing, then the sleeves. A big chest is slowly revealed, with two nipple rings that make me snort. Someone thinks he’s hot shit.

I also discover that the guy wet his pants. I frown down at the sight of the damp fabric covering his crotch, because there’s not a smell of urine in the air. It’s musky, yes, but not unpleasant and acrid. It almost smells like… One of his legs twitches and then, as I watch, the wet stain spreads. As it does, it outlines a very large, very thick cock. A very erect, thick cock. That’s not urine. He’s getting off. I stare at him in horror, skittering backward. He doesn’t move, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s still unconscious. What the fuck is wrong with him that he’s coming in his sleep and puking when he’s awake?

He makes a pained groan and starts panting again, and for a moment, he looks so pitiful that I know he’s sick. I’m not sure what sort of sickness it is, but I stare at the flushed pink shade in his ears and think about how he’d begged for a drink. I think about all the nights that I’d spent in the slave barracks with a dry mouth, begging for a drink myself. Just something to wet my throat and bring some relief from the never-ending heat of the desert moon. Damn it, I really am an idiot, I decide, because I’m going to help him. I wet a towel with cold water and cross the floor to his side, knife in hand. Carefully, I put the towel on his forehead, patting it in place. The stranger makes a sound of relief, and I feel another twinge of guilt.

If he really is sick, he’ll be easy to keep tied up because he won’t have the strength to free himself. I’ve got a stun-stick. I’ve got weapons. I should be safe. I should. And if he tries anything, I can kill him. I tell myself this as I head back to the kitchen for another wet towel to put on his broad chest.

The strange, sweet voice is doing its best to sound hard, but there’s a gentle edge to it. The female. The one I smelled as I headed over here.

I get a bare glimpse of a cloth-covered chest swell—a teat—on the female before she gets to her feet and moves away. My cock stiffens again, and I’m dimly aware that my trou are wet, cold and sticky, and my cock is still throbbing and aching. I’m absolutely going to murder Hrrrusek when I’m back on my feet.

“You…stunned me?” I stare up at her in surprise. Maybe that’s why my brain is fuzzy. She shocked me so hard she made me pass out. I should be furious. It has to be the noli that makes my dick stiffen at her casual violence. Or maybe it’s the authoritative way she says that she’s not afraid to take drastic action. Whatever it is, my stupid cock likes it entirely too much and I resist the urge to groan. “You came into my house,” she accuses. “Of course I stunned you.” “I needed help.” “I would have helped you on the porch. There’s no need to trespass.” This female is insane. She thinks I’m trespassing?

The woman with her foot on my gut is the opposite of my brother’s sunny-spirited mate. Whereas Chelsea is all smiles and fearlessness, this human female has a hunted look to her face. She’s small-framed, with a cloud of dark hair and an angry expression. But kef, does she smell amazing. Her scent is the best thing I’ve ever scented, and I want to just close my eyes and drink it in for hours. It’s both sweet and sultry, rich and musky and clean all at once.

She’s clutching the stun-stick and scowls down at me, as if daring me to test her nerves. I can see other weapons strapped to her lean body. If she was battle-experienced, she wouldn’t have given me water. She wouldn’t be putting her small foot on my chest, well within grabbing reach. Kef, she sure wouldn’t have tied my hands in front of me instead of behind my back. That’s an amateur move. That tells me a lot about this female. She doesn’t trust me, but she also doesn’t have a lot of experience with capturing people.

I suppose that’s a good thing. I flex my wrists and the ropes on them have a little give, which means I can get free at any time. The situation would be laughable if her expression weren’t so determined. Maybe it’s the noli speaking, but I’m curious to see where this leads. “What’s your name, human?” “You don’t get to ask questions! I do!” “Okay then, ask me what my name is, and then maybe you can tell me yours.”

I don’t get my tail fur ruffled by her menacing tone. She’s like a spitting kitten, this one...

I eye my surroundings. The windows to the house are sealed shut, and in the low light I can just barely make out some sharp-looking items on the windowsills. Shards of glass, perhaps? The door is studded with locks and there are nasty-looking homemade weapons placed strategically on the walls instead of art. Even a prickle of fear can’t make my erection go away. I don’t know if it’s the noli or the edge of danger, but I’m harder than ever when she casts a sn...

I can make this work, I decide. Sure, she’s angry now, but I can charm her. And then when she’s charmed, maybe she’ll straddle me and take her pleasure like I’m a tool to be us...

She eyes me and her gaze fixes on my cock, and despite my best efforts, another burst of cum spurts out of me with a shudder, making my sticky, wet pants even wetter. Her eyes narrow and I know she’s noticed. The female takes the end of her stun-stick and pushes it against the hard iron bar of my cock. The weapon isn’t activated, but I recognize the threat all the same, and it’s both arousing and terrifying. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you for this bullshit right now.” “Noli,” I wheeze.

“Can I have more water? Or if you’re going to kill me, let’s get it over with.” “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? Are you contagious?” I wipe my hand on my pants at the thought. “If you are, I’ll kill you and I’ll make it hurt.” “Noli,” he manages again. “I told you. It’s noli.” “I don’t know what that is.” “I’ll tell you if you give me a drink of water.” Even I’m not cruel enough to withhold a drink from an enemy. I lift my stun-stick, shaking it at him. “If you try anything, I’m aiming for your balls first.” “Noted.” He doesn’t move from the floor.

“Water’s important,” I grumble. “I wouldn’t withhold it from my worst enemy.” “You have a kind heart.” He pants heavily, his eyes closed.

“It’s an aphrodisiac. One whiff of it and a praxiian goes into rutting mode. I think Chelsea and my brother are using it, and I caught a hint of it in the air and then boom. Instant erection.” He takes another sip of water. “Won’t go away, either. Keffing Chelsea doesn’t think ahead about this sort of thing. She just thinks about how much she wants to crawl into bed with Hrrrusek, and I’m the one that suffers.” I’ve met Chelsea once or twice. Seemed nice, if a bit too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for me. “So I tried taking some null roots,” he continues. “The guy that runs the general store told me they neutralize a lot of poisons. I ate two of them and they made me sick. And so now I’m on your floor, covered in puke and come, and wishing I’d come up with a better way to say hello.”

I ignore the smile he crooks in my direction. I’m not interested in men that are trying to be charming. Or any men right now, to be honest. I just want to be left alone. It’s safest.

“Actually, I came over here hoping you’d smile real pretty and welcome me with open arms. That was the noli talking.” He grimaces and takes the last sip of water. “Now I just want my stomach to stop attacking itself.” He pauses and then gestures at his empty glass. “That, and another drink of water please.” I scowl. I should just kick him out. Send him back on his way. He did come over here with the hopes of getting laid. “So you were going to rape me.” He looks so appalled that I actually feel better. “I was going to woo you.” The thought is so ridiculous that I snort.

“Just shut up and eat your bread.” “Tastes terrible,” he says around a mouthful. “Says the man that ate a bunch of roots a stranger gave him.” “Yeah, that was pretty keffing dumb of me. But my dick got hard and I smelled the noli and I panicked. That shit is a nightmare if you don’t have a mate.” He sounds so disgruntled that I almost laugh. “Remind me to yell at my brother tomorrow.”

“Maybe you should get your own place instead of mooching off of them.” He huffs. “I would love to, but no one wants to rent to a praxiian. I can’t afford a homestead of my own—they’re charging a fortune for non-humans to keep outsiders away—and I don’t have those kinds of credits. I wanted to stay with my brother when he settled here with Chelsea, so I’m stuck on his couch for a while longer.” I know what it’s like to be treated like a lesser creature by those around you, and I hate that I feel a twinge of pity for him. “Praxiians not popular here, huh?” “Heh. No. Not popular at all.

“You are far too demanding for a captive.” But I get up and get him more water anyhow. I haven’t really talked to anyone in months and months, and longer still since I’ve had a normal, friendly conversation. This might not be normal, but it’s probably about as close as I’m going to get. It’s my own fault, of course. I don’t trust anyone after being sold and betrayed and sold and betrayed. I was told I was getting my freedom twice before I came here, all so I’d willingly go on a transport without pitching a fit. In...

When I return with the water, the praxiian fixes those big, dark eyes on my face again. “Tell me about you, Barlia.” “Nice try. I’m not falling for your act.” “I’m serious.” The praxiian takes a few sips of water and watches me when he does. “I’m not leaving this floor anytime soon. I can’t go home. Even if I could walk—which I don’t think I could—the place is going to reek of noli for at least another day or two. “Might as well become friends.” Friends? Is he serious? “I d...

He finishes off the hard bread and then adds, “Want to hear my story?” “No?” But I’m smiling a little inside even as I say it, because I know he’s going to tell me anyhow. I kind of like that I can be absolutely brutal with this guy and he doesn’t take it to heart or get offended. When I met Chelsea, she showed up all bubbly happiness and smiles and it didn’t take long for my scowls to scare her away. It’s not that I’m trying to be unfriendly. Okay, so I am, but I also wouldn’t have minded if she’d tried again to be my friend, just to prove tha...

And Jrrru, even though I don’t trust the guy, is exactly the type not to take “no” for an answer when it comes to conversation, or to get offended when I don’t gush over him. He tells me some long-winded story about growing up in a praxiian colony on a metalworking station and how it’s now just him and his brother. How they came here for a job to expand the Port shipping docks. I know that part’s true because I’ve seen the construction there for the last several months. And he talks about how his brother got to know Chelsea and they fell in love. “They should thank me,” Jrrru says proudly, as if he’s not a sweaty mes...

“It sounds like an absolutely shitty thing to do. You shouldn’t be proud of that.” “I was drinking.” “So that gives you the right to be an absolute monster to everyone around you? I had no idea that was how alcohol worked. My bad.” He’s silent. “If you ever did something like that with my gear, I wouldn’t talk to you ever again. You just make problems for people. It sounds like you’re making problems for people right now, too. You’re blaming your current situatio...

“I don’t see them forcing strange roots in your mouth or telling you to go cross-country to bother the neighbors and puke on their doorsteps. You think you can get away with everything by being charming, but no one’s charming when they’re drunk.” Jrrru stares at me. My face heats a little, because I just lectured an alien that’s twice the size of me. Why do I care if he drinks too much or not? Or if he thinks too highly of himself? I’ll never see him again the moment he leaves my house, and really that’s fine. Let him be a...

“Everyone thinks they’re cute when they’re drunk, but honestly, they’re not.” I shrug. “You’re right.” Jrrru shifts on the floor a bit, as if getting comfortable. The water is clasped in his tied hands again and he takes another sip. “I’ve probably gotten by on charm for a long time. It’s difficult now that I’m here and everyone looks at me like I’m about to rape and murder them.” “Maybe you shouldn’t show up on their doorstep with a hard dick.” He laughs, and then groans, closing his eyes again. “Ow, that hurt. You’re not wrong, though. I’m sorry if I scared you.” “You di...

“Why does it matter what I think?” “Because you smell keffing amazing and you’re smart and resourceful, and I like you.” I…smell amazing? It’s the weirdest compliment. I’m not an attractive woman. My features are too big for my face, my eyes too close together. I don’t dress up to be pretty. But telling me that I smell amazing is a compliment I’m not used to rebuffing, and I don’t know how to brush it aside. I don’t know that I want to. I like that there’s something appealing about me, I guess. “You just think I’m smart and resourceful because I took you down. There’s that ego again.”

He laughs, his big shoulders shaking, and a strange feline grin spreads across his face. It looks completely alien, but I also kinda like it.

This is getting dangerously close to flirting and I’m not about to fall for this shit.

“You puked all over yourself and were rolling around on the floor. I cut it off you so I don’t have to scrub the entire room. Just half of it.” “Oh, is that what happened? I’m disappointed.” “Why?” “I thought maybe I’d ripped it off my own chest in a primal mating frenzy. That seems like it’d win the females over.” I snort with amusement. “Not this one.” “No,” he says thoughtfully. “You’re a different sort entirely, aren’t you, Barlia?” “That’s a terrible name.” “So tell me yours.” “Go back to drinking your water.”

Actually, talking with Barlia is a lot of fun. She’s absolutely the prickliest female I’ve ever met, meeting each flirting word I toss her way with a hiss of response. She’s smart, though. Her mind is sharp and I can see it constantly working. She doesn’t tell me anything about herself, so I monopolize the conversation, telling her about my brother and his mate, and our life as metalworkers. I tell her about the sewer line I just repaired and how I had to crawl on my elbows through waste. That makes her smirk, as if my discomfort brings her joy, and she has the cutest evil little smile of delight. It goes well with her incredible scent, and by the time the sun goes down, I’m absolutely smitten with this creature.

She makes a soup for dinner, tossing acerbic comments my way as she cooks, and it smells wonderful. Chelsea tends to bake only—she likes sweets—but this soup smells meaty and incredible, and by the time Barlia leans over me to feed me a mouthful, my stomach is growling. I eat every bite and want a second bowl, but she’s firm that I need to be careful with my gut or she’ll be cleaning up another mess. She’s forgotten all about her weapons by the time night falls, and they sit in the kitchen as we talk and she cups a mug full of soup in her hands.

Barlia just gives me a sour look, but her cheeks get pink. “If you let me tie you up again, you can sleep on the floor.” She’s lucky I’m not really a criminal, because I could tear these bonds free in a moment and have her under me in the space of a breath. The thought is vaguely terrifying to realize, and now I want to stay if only so I can protect her. “I would like that very much.” “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

“Can I shower?” “You can leave if you’d rather,” she retorts. “But all you’re getting from me is a blanket and a pillow.” I love how sharp she is with her words, like they’re weapons to surround herself with as well as the physical ones. It’s adorable and intriguing. “A pillow would be lovely. Thank you.” I don’t try anything as she ties my legs again—with the same awful, easy-to-unravel knots as before—and then she covers me with a blanket and puts a pillow under my head. Her scent is all around me as she does, and my cock stirs and hardens once more, even though I thought the noli had worn off.

I’m going to have to come back here, I realize. I want to get to know this female better. I want to see if I’m as affected by her without a hint of noli in my system. And more than anything, I just want to have more of the push-pull conversation with her, because it excites me more than anything has excited me in a...

When I wake up in the morning, I unlock my bedroom door and set aside the stun-stick I kept at hand all night. I undo multiple locks and take down the bar and peer into the living room, because all is quiet, and I thought Jrrru would be a noisy morning guest. Instead, I find the blanket is neatly folded on the couch atop the pillow, the ropes I used to tie his hands and legs together are now forming a bow, and there’s a sad-looking wildflower perched atop the blanket. Jrrru really does think highly of himself, I decide, even as I pick up the flower and sniff it.

No matter how much I linger, I never see Barlia around town. There’s always an odd job or two that needs to be done around Port, even if you’re praxiian. While I’m not loved by the locals, I make sure that the Port custodians are aware of my movements at all times. It feels a bit intrusive, but then I see the frightened looks that the human females shoot me. And that they give the same frightened looks to any male avian, ooli, or mesakkah that gets too close. In short, some of them are scared of all males.

I think of Barlia and her weapons and I’m starting to realize that cheery Chelsea, my brother’s mate, is the exception rather than the rule. Most of these poor creatures are downtrodden and afraid. They’re here to recuperate and live in safety, and so I swallow my pride and report that I’m taking a welding job to the local authorities, and I spend the next week making a sealed underground bunker beneath the human barracks, as requested by a human female named Bee who seems to help the new females acclimate to their surroundings.

For two weeks, I look for her. Nothing. It makes me wonder if she smells as good as I recall or if it was the noli. When a few more days pass and there’s no sign of her in Port, I decide that I’m tired of waiting. If she won’t come into town, I’ll have to go to her. I need an excuse, though, and so I stop by the general store, picking through the goods there. “What’s a good gift for a human female?” I ask the avian behind the counter. It’s the same one that sold me the null roots, but maybe he knows a bit more about humans than praxiians. “For a female that I want to show interest in?”

Barlia’s home looks very different from Chelsea’s. The crops look fine, but she has no meat-stock in her barn and the house looks more like a fortress. The windows are covered with metal sheets on the outside, the house surrounded by thick, overgrown bushes and the yard seems to be nothing but turned dirt. Clearly Barlia isn’t a gardening sort, or the type to care what the exterior of her house looks like. I think about the weapons she had lining the walls inside and suspect there’s a story in her past that explains all of this. I also suspect it’s not a pleasant