Captive by Cheryl Brooks

Author:Cheryl Brooks [Brooks, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781736030905
Publisher: Cheryl Brooks
Published: 2020-12-27T18:30:00+00:00

“Let me know if you need anything.” Or change your mind.

“I will,” she said.

If Moe had looked back, he would never have been able to walk away. The trouble was he didn’t even have to look back. Her scent followed him, tormenting him more with every step he took. Closing the door behind him, he stumbled into the tiny kitchen and sat down heavily in the chair he’d so recently vacated. The joy he’d felt then was now replaced with an equal measure of despair, perhaps even more.

Temfilk looked up from his plate. “Dude, are you okay?”

“No.”

He hadn’t expected to feel quite this bad, although he should have, especially after being essentially rejected. He knew why she’d made the decision to avoid conception, and if he was being honest with himself, he would’ve been astonished if she’d chosen any other alternative. Even so, he still felt like he’d been kicked in the nuts. His erection was already fading, leaving a heavy ache in his balls. That feeling would pass. Eventually.

Unfortunately, his nose was entirely too good at picking up her scent. All he did was turn his head toward the chair in which she’d been sitting, and the fire rose up from his groin all over again. He doubted he would ever be able to purge her scent entirely. Traces of it lingered on his clothes, his hair, and his skin. It seemed to have seeped in through his pores to become part of him.

Velkma made a sound like a clucking hen, drawing his eye.

“Sorry, Velkma,” he said. “Looks like the revolution is going to have to wait a while longer.”

She smiled. “We have waited many years. A few more days won’t matter.” She tilted her head and blinked, her hooked nose and small dark eyes putting him in mind of a wise old bird. “Some decisions we make for ourselves, but most are made for us. Although you are unhappy now, you would not wish her to have chosen otherwise.”

Moe nodded. “It’s one thing to risk your own life. Quite another to risk the lives of your children.” Or your mate.

Nexbit gestured toward Moe’s plate. “You going to eat that?”

Even though he’d never felt less hungry in his life, Moe wouldn’t insult Velkma by turning his nose up at it. Growing up as a son of Jack Tshevnoe had taught him that much. Jack was as tough as boot leather when it came to most things, but refusing the food she offered you was among the surest ways of getting on her shit list. Even though she might eventually forgive the offense, Moe doubted she ever forgot it.

“Yeah.” He leaned forward and inhaled. It didn’t smell anywhere near as good as Klara, but, all things considered, it wasn’t too bad. He smiled at their hostess. “Smells great, Velkma. Thanks.”

Velkma shrugged. “We make do with what we have. I can recall a time when aubergat stalks were only fed to animals. Now, they’re practically a delicacy.”

“I’ve seen stranger foods that were considered delicacies,” Moe said.

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