The Breeding Prize - Aya Morningstar Page 0,19
back out and runs it across her full lips.
I watch mesmerized and captivated. My cock is at full mast now, which reminds me why Valittu wear kilts. If I were wearing pants, they would be unable to contain my raging hardness.
“Do you see?” she asks.
I stare at her with my mouth hanging open.
“Use your tongue,” she says, taking another lick and smiling at me.
Is she trying to seduce me? Is this why she synthesized ice cream? There is no way that human women eat this frozen treat in public, is there? How can the men stand to see something like this without going into a frenzy?
I dig my nails into my palm, and I force myself to lick it. I close my eyes and imagine I’m licking something other than ice cream, but the taste hits me the right way this time. It’s cold, but it’s sweet. When I lick it rather than bite it, it’s not too cold either. It melts on my tongue rather than on my teeth, and it has a pleasant dairy taste to it.
I look down at the cone, and then back up at Annabelle.
“Well?” she asks.
“It’s good.”
She nods and takes another lick of her ice cream. “Wait until you get to the cone—well, I guess you already got to the cone, didn’t you?”
We finish eating our treats, and I have to agree with Annabelle, that biting into the hard cone was quite pleasant. It gave a texture to the otherwise soft cream, and it created new layers of taste and flavor.
“You’ll have to synthesize more things like this for us, little human.”
She laughs. “Finally a man who doesn’t expect me to cook! I just have to tell this refrigerator thing what we want to eat, and you give me the credit as if I actually cooked it? This must be too good to be true.”
“I wouldn’t have known how to synthesize that. You had to teach it how to make it, and your explanation was clear, concise, and logical, which surprised me.”
“Why did that surprise you?”
“Because you are usually highly illogical.”
“Excuse me?”
“Maybe I used the wrong word. You are moody. Yes, that is a more fitting word.”
“Moody?”
She’s angry. I’m not experienced with human women, but I’ve been around this one long enough that I can read her facial expressions, and the subtle—and not so subtle, in this case—shifts in the tone and timber of her voice. Perhaps I used the wrong word once again?
“You are…”
“Why don’t you stop digging deeper holes, Raiska?”
“What holes?”
“It’s an expression. Just...quit while you’re ahead. Not that you’re really ahead anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
She smiles at me. It’s less exasperated than normal. “You were trying to give me a compliment, but you don’t understand our culture. At all. I will accept your compliment, and ignore the things you said afterward. Sound good?”
I nod. “You can explain to me later how I offended you. When you are less temperamental.”
Seven
Annabelle
He decides to take me into Thrace, which is the name of the city we are in. I don’t know if he has a specific destination in mind, but we end up just walking through the city as the sun is setting. Even with the sun below the horizon, the rings of the planet continue to reflect the sunlight, and that combined with the bright and colorful stars in the sky means that even night time feels relatively bright, almost like a permanent golden hour. Raiska’s cheekbones are sharp and chiseled, but in this soft light, all of his features look even more perfect than normal.
He takes me by the hand as we walk. I don’t fight him on that. He’s called me moody, temperamental, illogical, and all kinds of other things to dig his grave as deep as he could, but I decided to chalk all of those things up to the same thing that brought him to turn an ice cream cone upside down: complete and utter ignorance.
He’s an alien. He was raised by some kind of fucking interdimensional demons. He was tasked to kill and capture and do God knows what to all kinds of alien species. He’s been forced to compete in the Breeding Games, just like I have—well not just like I have—and when I consider all of the extenuating circumstances that have been Raiska’s life and upbringing, it’s hard to be mad at him for using the wrong word in a given situation.
It’s honestly a complete miracle that he can be as chivalrous and good to me as