Page 27 of You're Not My King!

I narrowed my eyes. “Why currently?”

“There are advances in technology every day, so I’ll never say never.” She shrugged, and from a medical standpoint, I was sure that made sense. “But for now, no. You can’t.”

Okay, that was reassuring. The tension in my shoulders loosened. “Will the knot happen every time?”

“Now that you’re mated, yes.”

“Right.” I fiddled with a bottle on the table, wondering if this was actually my destiny, to waddle around with a permanently gaping hole for the rest of my life.

Fiona must have detected something in my tone as she reached out to squeeze my hand again. “He won’t take more than you’re able to give. Plus, the lubrication from his gills is a natural relaxant, to prepare your body for tying. He’ll never cause irreparable damage.”

That explained how I’d even managed to take it without tearing, and why everything had been so wet. Dude probably had to produce double just because I was human. “So, why is it still tender? Feels like I’m bruised from ass to throat.”

She hummed in sympathy. “You are quite small in comparison, and it was your first time taking it. The aftereffects will get less and less over time.”

“With regular use, right?” I deadpanned, and she smiled.

“As I said, he won’t take more than you are able, or willing, to give.”

Did that mean he’d backed off to let me heal? Though, technically, there was other stuff we could do—as I’d shown him the other night—so that didn’t make sense to me. Not that I was complaining, not really, but instead of even trying to touch and kiss me, he was avoiding the prospect entirely, sleeping wrapped around me at night only to disappear before I woke. At first, I’d been glad, and honestly, I’d probably subconsciously growled at him once or twice in my sleep like a pissed-off cat. I hadn’t wanted him to touch me with a ten-foot pole, but now…

Was I feeling lonely?

I was confused, that was for sure, with my body sending my mind so many mixed signals. I was almost offended that he hadn’t thrown himself at me again, but also pleased as punch that he wasn’t complicating shit more than it needed to be—like, come on, pick an emotion. He was probably doing it because of the ugly thing. He’d done his duty, and now he could stay clear.

I shouldn’t even have been thinking about it. It wasn’t as if I liked the guy. Yeah, he was hot as sin, but shouldn’t I have been pleased that it was a one-and-done thing? I hadn’t wanted any of this in the first place.

And yet…

His rough hands had felt nice roving over my skin. His lips moving against mine, and his cock… I did kinda miss it pounding all my sensitive spots and filling me up.

Stop it.

Fiona used the table to hoist herself to her feet. “I can give you a stronger salve to reduce swelling and make everything bounce back faster, and a tea that will help settle everything inside. How’s that?”

I nodded absently. “Yeah, great. Thanks.”

She headed over to the rows of bottles and bowls on the rickety bookcase at the back of the tent. She grabbed a pre-prepared jar of green lotion and several bunches of dried red leaves before bringing them back to the table.

“Would you like me to fix you up something that’ll heighten sensation?” she asked, pinching up some herbs and mixing them in a small felt bag. “So it feels better?”

There was no problem on that front. I remembered how it had sat, wedged up against my prostate, forcing out orgasms until I had nothing left.

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “He’ll probably not touch me again, anyway.” It was a petty, throwaway comment, but I couldn’t shake the thought that he’d forced himself to fuck me just for the good of the clan.

It was stupid. Was I pitying him or projecting my own insecurities? Why would I even be insecure? I didn’t give a shit if he didn’t like the look of me. Fuck him. I didn’t even care what I looked like, so why did it matter what he thought?

I swore there was something fishy in the air here.

She shook the herb bag, raising a brow at me. “What gives you that idea, love?”

“Well, he hasn’t tried his luck again.” I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but probably missing the mark by a million percent. “And I was too ugly for the pleasure planet, so I’m probably not his type.”

Fiona dropped her hands to the table, exhaling through her nose like an irritated bull, and I knew she meant business. “Firstly, have you tried again?”

I frowned. “No, but?—”

“Right. So, to me, that sounds like a joint decision,” she said, voice clipped, and I didn’t dare argue. “And secondly, the reason you weren’t picked for Fu-huk-yoo was because you are malnourished. You will have flagged on their system as ‘unhealthy,’ and they would never risk putting your body through it. It had nothing to do with your appearance, my dear, and I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense.” She pointed at me until I bobbed my head, well and truly scolded. “As far as alien standards go, from what I have learned in my studies, tattoos and piercings are highly desirable, as are pale eyes, so you needn’t worry about it.”

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