Page 24 of You're Not My King!

I’d take time to assess the situation and keep my guard up around Voh-ack, as I did with most people now, instead of jumping in headfirst. I’d get a feel for the place, the way of operations, and figure out a plan. Despite what Fiona had said, there had to be a way. Maybe if I got back to the trading post, I could stow away on one of the ships, or hijack one. Not that I had the first clue on how to do any of that, and imagining the effort it would take was actually putting me off the whole idea, but I’d cross that bridge when it came. I just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity to arise.

But that was a headache for another time.

When my ass didn’t feel like a bruise.

I let out a pitiful groan and rolled over in my nest of furs where I’d spent the majority of the last three days, wallowing in self-pity. No, I hadn’t been a total hermit, but on the odd occasion I had ventured out, I’d walk-shuffled around the camp, avoiding the crowd because every jackass who caught me limping would smirk or chitter knowingly. I didn’t need that kind of humiliation. I was also still unsure whether these guys were a happy family or a cult, so it seemed logical to spend most of my time alone, in my cocoon, or bugging Fiona.

She didn’t seem to mind.

That routine had gotten boring fast, though. It gave me too much time to spiral back to my worst moments, which I had already done more often here than I ever had on Earth. Everyone had a task except for me, something to keep them busy and useful to the group, but I just had my connection to the Big Boss. It sucked, and while I was a lazy bastard who believed labor to be unnecessary torture, if I was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable, I needed something to do or I’d go insane.

Nothing too strenuous, though. Let’s not be silly.

I hauled myself out of my comfy pelt mountain and pulled on my new shirt, which I was pretty sure had doubled as a pirate’s nightgown in a past life. It was just a rectangle of soft, flowy fabric, hand-sewn at the cuffs and seams, but it covered more than the furry toga did and beat walking around half-naked. It was miles too big, and I had to tie a leather strip around the waist just to give it some shape, but it was fine.

I’d been allowed to keep my paper-thin space booties, so small mercies.

I made sure the bed was semi-tidy and took a swig of water from my canteen before leaving the tent. There weren’t many people gathered around to make a spectacle of me. They were all busy minding their own business, getting on with keeping the camp running. The novelty of the leader’s mate being human had clearly worn off.

Thank fuck.

It was starting to get dark outside already. Had I really lazed around all day? There were lizard dudes filtering back to camp through the gaps in the trees, sacks of loot slung over their broad shoulders.

It was the same every day. A few small groups would cast out in different directions, only to return hours later with rocks and branches or berries and whatever animals they’d hunted. It was a well-oiled little community. Everyone had their place, their job to fulfill day in, day out, before they could return to their families or help out elsewhere.

What surprised me most was that no one seemed particularly resentful—like working was a chore and they’d rather be anywhere else. On Earth, it would have been an entirely different story. There would be someone having a full-blown meltdown in the break room, another bitching about the team-building exercise booked outside work hours, and one more Googling the best sites to sell worn boxers and become a millionaire.

It was tough going, but somehow, I’d managed to perform all three of those roles in my last place.

Beefy Buns owes me a promotion.

I wandered in the direction of Fiona’s tent, trying my hardest to suppress my limp. She’d known something was up from the first moment I’d trudged in the day after the event, but she’d respected my unwillingness to talk about it and just slid a salve across the table without a word.

It had helped immensely.

I’d been to her workshop often enough that I could probably have walked there blindfolded. It was the farthest tent away from the bustling campfire—for privacy and peace, she’d said. No doubt she’d be getting sick of me shattering both, but fuck it.What else was I meant to do in a camp full of aliens I couldn’t even speak to?

As if to make me out to be a big fat liar, Voh-ack’s sister, Puu-kah, crept out from behind one of the huts. Okay, fine, there was one person besides Fiona who I could have a conversation with, but my point still stood. The second Puu-kah saw me, she waved excitedly and bounded over, grinning like a kid at Christmas. I felt my lips curve in response.

Her joy was that infectious.

“Roo-bin. Are you well?” She sounded genuinely curious, slapping my back in greeting.

I’d have a bruise there later.

“Yeah,” I half-lied. “I’m doing okay. Thanks.”

“That is good news.” Her eyes scanned around, acting kinda shifty. What was her deal? “I have a gift for you.”

She dug around in one of the pouches on her harness and brought out a braided leather strip fixed with a small carved stone in the center. “It is a wrist ornament,” she explained, her mouth twisting. “I am not sure of the word in your language.”

“Bracelet,” I offered patiently, and she smiled.

“Braay-ss-lit,” she mirrored, a little hissy, but close. I nodded in approval. “It is for you. A mating gift.”

Before I could do the human ritual of protesting, she gestured for me to lift my hand. I did, and she knotted the bracelet loosely above the mating tattoo on my wrist, careful not to nick the skin with her claws.

Were these guys obsessed with staking their claim, or what?

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