at me. “Why are you being like this? I don’t like you! I don’t want you!”
I just smile at her, swishing my tail forward so the tip of it drags against her soft leg. “You say angry words to me but we both know the truth of this, little human. You want me.”
She pinches the spot between her brows. “Why on god’s green earth would you think that? I have never encouraged you!”
“You spit angry words at me, but your actions tell a different story—”
“What story?”
“You stare at my cock—”
“Because it’s staring back at me!”
“You kidnap me—”
“That was a mistake!”
“And you fill your house with noli fern,” I finish triumphantly, circling my hips enticingly. “What is a praxiian to think if a female ties him down and smothers him with noli fern? You can protest all you like, but I know the truth of it. Do not worry, little one.” I lean in. “We can make a safe word and then you can protest all you like—”
She slaps my mouth and races from the room.
With that slap, I spill in my trou. Kef me, but that was good.
10
KIM
I hide in my bedroom, trying to figure out what to do next. I lock the door and lie down on my bed, my hands pressed to my face. Theoretically, I should sleep. If I’m going to be disposing of a body in the morning, I really do need to get my rest. I can’t seem to relax, though. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s vibrating with tension.
My terrifying neighbor is handcuffed in my living room…and more confusing than that, he’s not acting terrifying. Weird, yes. Blatantly sexual, yes. But I haven’t felt…threatened? It’s like he watches me trying to figure me out, rather than watching me like he wants to bury me in a shallow grave somewhere. Instead, I’m the one thinking of shallow graves.
How far I’ve fallen. I used to be a preschool teacher. Now I’m contemplating murdering my neighbor. I turn on my side and hug my pillow to my chest, sad for what I’ve become.
A moan makes me jerk awake.
I sit up, bleary and confused, and scrub a hand over my face. I guess I fell asleep after all? I look around my room, wondering, and another pained moan makes me jump to my feet.
The praxiian. Shit!
I tighten my robe around my waist and look around my room for a weapon. The only thing I have is an oversized pottery vase that one of the other human farmers made me in exchange for adding a character that looked like her to my storyline. I grab the vase and toss the blooming flowers onto the bed, then pour the water into the sink in my bathroom. When it’s empty, I clutch it in my arms, ready to cosh a particular cat-alien over the head if I must.
I hear another pained, low moan come from the living room.
Sucking in a breath, I open the door and creep out.
The first thing I notice is that the praxiian is still in the chair I left him in. He’s covered in sweat, his tufted gray fur damp and clinging to his brow. His head lolls back against his big, sweat-slick shoulders, and his legs are sprawled out in front of him, spread wide. The enormous erection is back—or never left—and to my chagrin, the entire front of his trousers is entirely soaked, and I suspect not all of it is sweat. Has this man been jizzing on himself all night?
Why are aliens SO weird?!
He groans again, big body shuddering, and it sounds like pain more than anything else. I creep forward, clutching the vase, and the moment I move toward him, his head snaps up. His eyes open and he stares at me.
“I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he says, voice cracking, as if his throat is parched. “How can you do this to me?”
“I…I…” I pull my shoulders back defensively, skirting wide around those long legs. His accusation makes me feel so guilty. How am I possibly going to kill him in the morning? But how can I possibly let him live? “Look. It’s not about hate. It would just be a killing to save myself. It’s not about you.” I think for a moment, and then add, “I promise I’ll make it an easy death.”
“Easy?” He huffs with that strange, hissy laughter. “You’re torturing me. Just kill me now and end this.”