Page 16 of You're Not My King!

We sat in silence for a moment, but my mind was already reeling with possibilities of what was to happen next. I couldn’t handle any more tension. “What did you come over to say?” I almost begged, huffing a withering laugh at her subtle wince. “Don’t worry, I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“Voh-ack is eager to seal the bond.” At my blank stare, she added, “To consummate.”

“What? Right now?” I knew it was ridiculous to think I’d get the chance to become friends with the dude before taking his dick, but come on, could he not have let what little I’d eaten digest first? Riding with a cramp was not a fun time.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Her tone suggested she meant it. “But as the leader’s mate, he can’t risk leaving the bond untethered. It puts you in harm’s way.”

I sighed. “Fuck.”It wasn’t as if Voh-ack was unattractive—quite the opposite—but it was all happening so fast, and I didn’t know if the dude had a temper or if he would let me take the reins.

It was overwhelming.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, rubbing my arm as if to placate me. “I promise.”

Easy for you to say, I thought bitterly, but still forced a smile. I didn’t know what she had gone through in the last eight years, and I shouldn’t assume. She was trying her best in a shitty situation.

We both were.

Voh-ack appeared behind me, grunting before offering his hand and easily pulling me to my feet. He wasted no time in marching me toward a tent on the far side of camp, his intentions clear to everyone who saw. I was starting to panic a little, my chest tight, palms clammy. The dude’s sister, Puu-kah, lingered near the entrance to the den and she smiled widely at me, raising her two middle fingers as if confusing the gesture with a thumbs-up.

Or she was just enthusiastic about telling me to go fuck myself, which, yeah. Thanks for the support, I guess.

Like a gentleman, Voh-ack lifted the tent flap—hanging pelt was more accurate—and signaled for me to step inside first. The cheers of the clan flooded in from behind us, but I drowned them out, favoring a look around my new digs over the encouragement of our veiled audience. It was homey. Basic. There were more weapon stands and lit candles than furniture or decorations, but it was warm, so I couldn’t complain.

There was a beautifully sculpted wooden table in the center with a few stone stools positioned around it. A massive mound topped with animal furs sat in the corner—the bed, I gathered. There was no kitchen or bathroom, but from what I’d seen, the fire pit and trenches in the ground were communal, and very much outdoors. There was a large wooden bathtub lined with cloth over to one side, like the one in Fiona’s tent, only twice the size, but I’d also learned about a bathing spring in the forest, so I doubted it got much use. Unless it was just another creation for my benefit.

“This is… nice,” I found myself saying, if only to fill the awkward silence. Voh-ack either understood what I’d said or sensed my approval as he puffed his chest out, like a macho caveman—“me, good mate.” I rolled my eyes and wandered over to the table, running my fingers across the smooth wood.

It really was pretty, with its natural trunk shape and patterns carved into the legs, but also kinda odd, since it wasn’t blood red like the creepy trees. Or squidgy. It looked like normal solid oak or birch, or the alien equivalent, and I made a mental note to ask Fiona about its origins later.

Assuming I survived the night.

On that bone-chilling thought, I turned back to my visibly restless husband—had I really already gotten into the habit of calling him that?—and hoped to figure out a way to instigate a let’s-talk-first parley, but Voh-ack, apparently, was more than a little eager to get started. As if he’d forgotten that I wasn’t of his kind, not durable or used to the whole forced marriage, he crossed the tent in three strides, stopping in front of me, all big and looming, and way too severe.

Unfortunately for me, the being an uggo thing obviously didn’t deter the dude. Was he as touch starved as me, or did he have a thing for tattooed, underfed ex-drug addicts? He dragged me to his chest, touching my neck, my arms, my back, all while making a rumbling noise that made my legs shake. The look in his eyes was too primal, too hungry, and I felt trapped. Scared. Not because I wasn’t interested—it wouldn’t have taken much for my body to totally get on board with all of it—but my head was spinning and I just needed a second to breathe.

Normally, I could cope just fine under pressure, but it was all hitting me at once. The life changes, the never seeing my family again, the new… air. I didn’t fucking know. It was too much, too fast. I was rattled, and the pressure in my chest kept building, my vision blurring at the edges. A switch had been flicked and memories flooded me of hard fists and hatred that I couldn’t escape.

I hadn’t done what he wanted, what if this was no different?

Through the roar of blood in my ears, I felt a gentle touch against my cheek, and the muffled sound of a soothing purr, reassuring and patient. My hand was placed on a firm chest, the steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum bouncing against my fingers, urging my heart to match its pace. I breathed deep, inhaling a calming scent that seemed familiar, my vision slowly returning with every blink. It had been months since I’d had a panic attack. Not since I got clean, not since he?—

I gave my head a shake, squeezing my eyes shut and filling my lungs. Forget. Thankfully, this was a mild one, but still, I’d never been pulled back so quickly.

Or with as much care.

Opening my eyes, I met Voh-ack’s gaze, and the worry etched on his face was all kinds of endearing. I should have hated him, should have shoved him out of my space and screamed—he’d bought me for fuck’s sake, I was his prisoner—but there was just something about him. I couldn’t place it, couldn’t figure it out, but despite his enthusiasm and knowing nothing about him, and the fact that this whole bonding thing wasn’t my choice, I was drawn to him.

I’d probably regret relaxing so easily around him, but the warm hand cupping my face felt really fucking nice.

I flinched as the tent flap burst open and the doc hurried inside. Voh-ack’s thumb brushed over my cheek in subtle reassurance. Had he called for her? Fiona took one glance at me and glared at Voh-ack before giving her full attention back to me. “What happened?” She scanned my body—searching for injuries, I assumed. “Are you alright, my dear?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, just a mini panic attack. No biggie.”

“You poor love.” She rubbed my back and muttered something to Voh-ack in his language. The clipped alien words meshing with her broad English accent sounded kind of amusing, but power to her for learning.

Voh-ack said something back, pointing at me as if asking her to relay a message. I watched the movement of his lips curling around each word, but had no hope of reading any of them. “What’s he saying?”

Fiona sighed. “He wants me to tell you that you have nothing to fear; he’ll be gentle.”

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