Page 62 of The Commander

“And how long have you known her?”

“A couple of years?”

“So, she’s older than you. You have provided for her for a couple of years?”

“Provided for her?” What did he mean by that question?

“You were the one getting food.”

Cara had to think about it. She was. She always was. Even while in Springfield. They became friends one day when Cara shared her lunch with Brenda because the boyfriend at the timehad lost half her portion gambling. She waved her hand, unable to explain it all. “She needed help.”

“Kitten. I have seen this pattern before. Let me explain it to you. It’s calledmanipulation.”

Cara sat back in her chair.

He returned her gaze with his black alien eyes. When he’d hovered over her in the schoolroom asking questions, she saw a nightmarish, demonic alien wearing a demented, hungry expression. At some point, that faded. Now, she saw someone else. Her mate? A man she understood, at least. She could read his face now, process his reactions.

He wasn’t joking. He thought her only friend manipulated her.

He might be right. Brenda always seemed to attract men who mistreated her.“Andy,”she declared with a dreamy smile,“loves me a hundred times better than the last three.”

Brenda raved about him, her eyes sparkling as she recounted their nights together, claiming he was the best in bed and gave her the most orgasms of anyone.

Two weeks later, Brenda practically vibrated with excitement; she wanted to run off with Andy to Dalewood. He was going to hand-fast her. He promised better living arrangements and easier work.

“Cara, you should join us! It’ll be amazing!”

Brenda had seemed to think that everything would be cozy and fun—Brenda and Andy would help her get settled, share meals, and even find her a boyfriend.

But Cara hesitated, nagging doubt holding her back. She liked those things and longed for them, but Andy and his friends were nothing but slime, their charm a thin veneer over something darker that Brenda, in her infatuation, didn’t see.

Then Brenda said she was pregnant. They had to go. Dalewood’s mayor was expecting Andy and the guys to help getin the tax quota. The idea lurked in the back of Cara’s mind that taking her along was Andy’s idea. He suggested it the first time. And the second time.

Bastian went to the cupboard to grab another meal for Cara. It looked like beef goulash, but one could never be sure with brown gravy. “Don’t you have anything fresh?”

“Fresh meat? I haven’t been saving any of it. Do you like fresh meat?”

There was something in his question that Cara had to clarify. He’d drunk her blood with that weird second thin tongue, hadn’t he? “What do you eat?”

He gave her an expression full of teeth, his tongue snaking out to wiggle at her.

“Whatever I want.”

He said it with such relish that Cara thought it must mean that he ate humans too. All the blood in her face dropped to her stomach with an icy dump of horror. “What do you mean? What do you really eat? This stuff?” She pointed at the plate he brought over to her.

“Take five big bites and I will tell you.” He sat down, crowding her into the corner using a chair that looked more suited to a child than it did a giant alien.

She took two bites, watching his face. Imagining the worst.

“I’m not human, my pet. I eat what I need. More bites. Bigger.” He pointed at the plate.

She frowned but did what he said. It didn’t smell good, didn’t look good, and was heavily salted. How could this be a healthy meal?

“I eat whatever I want. What I hunt. But my body does not function as yours does. I know you don’t like the smell or flavor of that food. It is shit made for humans. It will fill you. Keep you functioning. I can and do eat it when I have need. I preferthe chicken because it looks less like a sickly bowel movement. But I will not give you a false idea of me, even though I know your human ways are much different. In battle, I have eaten the hearts of my enemies, and none of my enemies are vegetables.”

He didn’t even smirk when he said it. Cara set her fork down. He was so different from her. In body. In mind. In being. She shouldn’t be here, sitting with him, eating a meal like he was more than a fuck buddy, but her actual life partner. She shouldn’t want to touch him again. Hadn’t she vowed to herself she would never give in?

She had, yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago.