his voice has turned so easy that I’m thrown—right until he drags me up on my toes, shoves the side of his head against me, and starts scrubbing me against the planes of his face like I’m a washcloth and he’s an old fashioned washboard.
It’s like the scent marking from a minute and a half ago—but more public, and thankfully there’s less groping.
Still, catcalls and whoops erupt around us. Several of the hobs and unmated Rakhii melt further back in the crowd, taking stations as far away from Bash’s display—and strong bonding scent—as they can get.
Bash finishes by drawing his tongue up the side of my cheek. “There, my cherished mate. Go visit with your friends,” he says with a magnanimous smile.
I slap my hands on either side of his face and lick his lips.
Shouts and clapping and generally thrilled approval emanate from the peanut gallery.
“There,” I purr as I pull back. “Now you go say hi to your friends too. And hubby?” I pat him on the ass, making him stiffen and stare down at me in stern sexual warning. “Thanks for the fifteen minutes.”
CHAPTER 40
ISLA
I skip to my gaggle of human pals. Not easy to do when a couple pounds of metal are weighing your buns down. “Guess what?”
“What?” five dutiful voices chime… well, dutifully. Laura and Crispin edge over, bringing my circle of concerned friends to seven. When Beth scurries over, it’s eight plus her pirate.
“I got abducted!” I crow. “My Rakhii totally absconded with me, it was great.”
“Yeah?” Gracie is grinning huge. “Good for you!” She frowns though as she glances over her shoulder in Bash’s direction. “Huh. Woulda thought he’d be more relaxed after you banged his brains loose.”
“Give him time,” I tell her.
“This is the weirdest thing to give congrats for, but hey, congratulations on getting abducted by an alien!” Angie cries.
“So what happened?” Mandi asks. Her gaze travels to Bash, who’s hammering the blade of a pickaxe at the quarry wall while staring straight at me. Unsafe work practices, perhaps; stalkerish, for sure—but sweet.
I clap my leg happily. “Get in there, tame that alien, you said. Well guys, we got married!”
Shocked exclamations and more congratulations for our happy mate-trimony follow my announcement.
“Have a seat,” Gracie pats the stone beside her. There’s enough room on Bash’s throne that both our rear ends can easily fit. “Tell us all about—”
My ass clunks down next to her, halting her words.
“Ow,” I laugh. “And yeah, I’ll tell you—”
“You’re gonna tell me why your butt just clanked,” Gracie says, staring under my butt like she can’t believe what she just heard. She reaches out and presses on my hip, making the dress fabric mold to my belt underneath. “What are you wearing, metal Spanx?”
“Bubashuu’s got a trust thing,” I wave my hand, “so he scared Cyden into—”
“Who is Cyden?” Callie asks.
“A hob,” Jonohkada answers from beside Gracie. “He is the blacksmith here.” His eyes are intent on me, his face held in a poorly hidden wince, the way a person looks when they know they’re about to hear about a gruesome car accident their friend endured during a super bad snowstorm.
“Oh, right, I’ve seen him around,” Callie says.
“—into fitting me with an emergency chastity belt,” I finish for everyone.
“Whaaaat!” Angie yelps.
“SERIOUSLY?” Gracie shouts. “I was kidding about the Spanx!”
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” Mandi says grimly. “That sucks.”
I shrug. “Well, you know. ‘Get in there’ you said.” I widen my eyes at Gracie. “I’m in it.”
“That was before he strapped a metal diaper on your ass,” she says hollowly.
Everyone glances below my waist.
I pretend to gasp. “HEY. Eyes up soldiers. I can’t believe you people. This is a marriage. You do what you gotta do for your partner’s peace of mind.”
“How do you go pee?” Angie asks, absolutely horrified.
“She has to wait for him to unlock her,” Mandi mutters darkly...
...In such a weird way that we’re all looking over at her.
She shrugs. “The first alien I was kept by—”
“This the one who tore up your neck?” Gracie asks, her tone almost level enough to sound nonchalant and not just quietly infuriated.
“Ye...” Mandi can’t even finish her answer. Eventually, she manages a jerky, wooden nod.
Her cat-man materializes behind her—
Jabari!
—and his squint down at Mandi becomes a glare shot towards Gracie.
Gracie sighs and turns to me. “Spill it all.”
“His name is Jabari!” I whisper excitedly.
Gracie gives me a patient look. “I know.”
“What? How come you never said?” My mouth is hanging open.
“Because he’s got some belief about ‘cleaving’ to his intended, where