Page 357 of Bride of Choice

What I wouldn’t give for one of the ovens back home…

Fuck. What I wouldn’t give to be back home.

Frowning down at my puffy, aching hands and feet, I grimaced. It wasn’t looking real good. Dorothy would know what to do. And she’d put me at ease talking me into whatever treatment she’d thought was best.

That racket continued.

Groaning as I got to my feet, I made a quick pit stop to use the little girls’ room before following that awful noise.

Buu was near the back of the very back of his cave system, where it was hotter and way more uncomfortable. So much so I avoided it at all costs. I was pretty sure he used the hot water pools here to forge the lumps of metal he dug out of the cave walls and shaped into things, some were so hot.

“Don’t hang around here too long. It’s too hot,” I cautioned as I stood just inside the doorway.

Buu’s head shot up from the odd shaped piece of metal he was working on. Fixing a tool, no doubt.

“I’ll get you some water,” I told him.

“No,” he barked, coming over to me hurriedly to escort me down the hall.

My eyebrows shot up and I glanced over my shoulder, stealing another peek at whatever he was making. An axe? Did we need to chop wood? Was he making a dagger? Spear? Sword? How dire was shit getting?

One hand landed on my shoulder, the other wrapped around my side, while another settled on Bump, then another settled on my hip, as he guided me further and further away from all that heat.

“Not goot,” he grumbled softly, smoothing a hand over my belly.

Lifting one of my hands, he got one look at my plump digits and gently began to massage them. “Need ‘lax,” he rumbled down at me.

“I need to walk more. I think it might help. I’m drinking a fuck ton of water. I think salt meat really isn’t helping the puff monster I’ve become any,” I chattered idly as we walked the long way back to the main cavern.

“Need rest,” he grunted out.

“There’s too much to be done,” I gently argued, “and I can help.”

Buu grumbled something that told me he thought I was being stubborn.

“I’m sorry, come again?” My brow puckered and my lips pursed.

“Buu say no thing,” he grunted out. Scooping me up despite my protests, he planted a kiss on my brow and escorted me, willing or not, down the hall.

“Neanderthal,” I muttered under my breath.

“What nanner-thall?” he asked.

“A bossy grump that does what they want,” I muttered.

Buu’s clicking purr started up.

“Of course you’d love that,” I grumbled under my breath. Crossing my arms, I rolled my eyes.

His purr grew louder. Ugh. Total “nanner-thall” this one.

Walking me past where I’d been preparing food, he detoured for our sleeping pelts. Setting me down on his, he scooted mine closer to stuff it underneath my back so I was propped up.

“What am I supposed to do now? Count weird glowing markings of I-don’t-wanna-know origin on the ceiling?” I huffed and puffed.

“Want grrr-eees? Make own ceiling spots?” Buu gestured in the general direction of the room containing the slug bucket, as I so lovingly called the container housing the slugs he fed, bred, and then used the sacs that grew on their backs to fuel the odd light fixture, glowy lamp jar things sticking up everywhere to light our way, and most recently to mark up the walls for me. They naturally made beautiful patterns on the walls. Buu made weird noises that shifted the intensity of the light or turned them off entirely. It was some weird, symbiotic relationship thing. He fed them his blood once a month. I didn’t delve too deeply into that ish to be honest and like fuck was I gonna donate to his vampire slug fund so that I too could creak-click-hum the lights on. The slug bugs had been in his clan for generations.

Choosing to live in my delusions, he didn’t say shit when I pretended not to know anything about them because EW.

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