Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“It’s fine,” Piper says quietly.
The shopkeeper glares at me.
“It’s not fine. Tell me what here costs so much?” I prod.
“Special pricing for humans,” he says after a minute. “You understand.”
“I understand.” I take the chip from Piper and slam it down on the counter, then lean forward. “What’s the price if you’re selling to me?”
The male blusters for a moment, then mumbles a much lower price—fifty six credits—and finishes packaging things without a word. Piper’s silent, too, but I’m boiling inside. She’s being overcharged just because she’s human. Does this happen everywhere she goes? And this is where she wants to stay because she’s treated better here than anywhere else? It eats at me. It eats at me even more when I take the package from the shopkeeper and head out of the shop with Piper at my side.
I know that male. I’ve had drinks with him at the tavern. He seemed like a good guy. Now everyone’s suspect.
“You didn’t have to intercede,” Piper says when we get outside. “I know he overcharges me. It’s not worth the hassle.”
“It is to me,” I grumble. I scan the street as we head toward the air-sled to drop off her purchases. Sure enough, I see the praxiian lurking in the distance, still watching closely. Waiting. Is he waiting for me to leave Piper alone? A new kind of angry frustration blisters through me, and I vow that she’s staying glued to my side while we’re here. “Did you know you’re being followed?”
“A praxiian?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light. “Gray fur?”
“You’ve seen him?”
“No. But I know who it is.” She waits patiently by the sled while I fit the package of goods in the trunk. “He’s the one that’s been bothering me.”
I knew it. Somehow, I suspected it but just hearing the words from her, her voice casual, makes me furious. “You need to stay away from him. praxiians are dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Piper gives me an astonished look and then brushes her hair back from her brow. There, hidden underneath the heavy fringe of hair she always wears over her forehead, are old scars. Large slashes—made by praxiian claws—have marred the perfection of her skin, leaving deep, ugly gashes that disappear into her hairline.
Those came from a blow to the face, I realize suddenly, and it makes me even angrier. “He hit you?”
“Not that one,” she says quietly. “But I’m very familiar with praxiian tempers.” She releases her hair and finger-combs it back into place, hiding the evidence of her past, and then gives me a faint smile. “This is why I need a big, protective husband. Because I know praxiians have bad tempers and they’re not used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. Now, will you help me find one?”
I clench my jaw.
I’m just supposed to keffing help her find a husband? In this nest of criminals and lowlifes? Who think humans are one step above a walking, talking toy? It makes me angry, and the possessive side of me wants to snatch her away and take her home. To drag her into bed and not leave it for days. Weeks, even. These keffing idiots don’t deserve to look at her, much less touch her.
Or marry her.
But what other choice does she have? Piper’s made her situation clear.
12
PIPER
Vordigar’s angry with me.
Actually, I’m not sure if he’s angry with me or with my situation. It’s the same thing. He’s seen how I’m treated in port. He’s seen my praxiian stalker. He doesn’t know that the beast has been to my farm several times in the last month. That he broke my front door once looking for me and it was only because I was visiting Chloe and Jutari that I was spared a rape—or worse. He doesn’t know that I’ve come home to my farm reeking of praxiian piss from him trying to mark his “territory.” Nothing matters because Vordigar’s not staying.
I have to find a new answer, and a new husband.
It’s awful, though. I don’t want anyone else. I want Vordigar and his laughing, teasing face. Vordigar and the protective touch he puts to my back as he steers me through port. Vordigar and the way he treats me—like I’m a person and I matter. I thought I was hardened enough to my situation that I’d be able to pick up and carry on no matter what. That I could find another male to fill the role of my spouse and not be upset.
I am upset, though. I’m just better at hiding it than Vordigar is. I’m running out of choices, and all of them are not as appealing as he is. If only he wasn’t as kind to me, or as attentive, or as protective, this might be easier. Instead, I’m going to have to settle for someone new. Another stranger.