Page 19 of Kiss of Fury

Chapter Nine

Between patients, Verity familiarized herself with the equipment, and Dr. Twygg continued to fill her in on things she would need to know. His compassion and helpfulness impressed her tremendously. He was such a caring doctor. It would have been a tragic loss for the world not to have him.

He’d been able to escape death and pursue his dreams, but she remained aghast at the dilemma his people faced—males sacrificing their lives to perpetuate the species. If all men did what Dr. Twygg had done, phasmids would cease to exist.

She couldn’t help questioning whether female phasmids were trulyincapableof resisting the urge to kill their sexual partners. Of course, Dr. Twygg knew his people far better than she, but what if killing wasn’t an unavoidable involuntary biologically programmed reflex? What if the females could control it?

What if mariticide occurred to ensure the matriarchy? Snuffing out men in their prime would prevent them from ascending to power. People liked tosay, “Believe all women,” but that was bullshit in her humble opinion. Women lied all the time about all sorts of shit. She herself had lied, although she’d done so for the best of reasons.

Trust but verify made much more sense.

Her short time on Refuge had opened her eyes and made her appreciate humanity. Humans had it pretty darn good. The Dorns’ attempt to take her son had been harrowing, but it had been a fluke. She’d gotten involved with the wrong man, the wrong family. Some aliens had tragic lives from the get-go.

She was also struck by howalienaliens could be. She felt fortunate Cosmic Mates matched her with ahuman. When she’d agreed to accept an alien as a husband, she’d been desperate to escape Earth, so she hadn’t put enough thought into her choice of a husband and compatibility. In hindsight, she realized she should have listed some dealbreakers. She never would have been happy with a polypus, for instance. And as much as she respected and liked Dr. Twygg, she would not choose to marry a phasmid.

She shuddered at the tragic reverse, an unsuspecting human guy getting matched to a female phasmid. Orgasm had been referred to as a “little death.” What an apt description.

Life on Earth had been precarious, but they were on Refuge now, and everything had worked out. Brody was safe—and if today’s lunch served as an indication, happy. He’d chattered nonstop about his classmates and Ms. Jularee, and he’d been fascinated by a lesson on cyborgs.

“Did you know cyborgs aren’t born, they’re built by scientists and raised in tanks?”

“No, I didn’t know.” She’d never thought about it. “Eat your lunch.”

“They’re like superhumans, but you can’t tell the difference between an ordinary human and a cyborg.”

“I didn’t know that either.”

“And I bet you didn’t know Earth was the only planet with cyborgs.”

Since they were superhuman, it made sense. “Nope,” she humored him.

“Butnobodyhas them anymore because they’re alldead.”

“What do you mean?”

“One company owned them all, but they had to destroy them because of the massacre.”

That kind of information had seemed a little heavy for a six-year-old. “Ms. Jularee told you all this?”

“Not that part. One of the big kids did.” Older kids speaking of matters inappropriate for younger children was one of the pitfalls of an all-in-one class. But how else could they handle schooling when there were only thirteen children? Fourteen, rather. She recalled Willa and George’s latest bundle of joy.

“Do you know what a massacre is?” she asked.

“It’s when somebody kills a whole bunch of people for no good reason. They run in, and they cut their heads off!” he said while karate-chopping the air.

“It’s murder, and it’s nothing to be excited about. Innocent people die.”

“Sorry.”

After lunch and the recitation of everything he’d learned about cyborgs, she’d walked him to his class and returned to work. Considering the source of his information, she wondered if the part about the massacre was even true.

Therehadbeen a massacre recently—in Chicago, USA. The city’s mayor and the people in her office had been killed. But had cyborgs been responsible? She couldn’t recall. Her troubles with the Dorns had just begun when the assassinations occurred, so she’d been preoccupied and hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the news. But Brody had ignited her curiosity, and shejotted a mental note to research the Chicago massacre when she got a chance.

As enthralled as her son had been by cyborgs, she was fascinated by the alien patients and the manifestations of their ailments and injuries. Perhaps, in time, she would see them as the routine cases they were, but each one seemed new and exciting. How many nurses got to treat aliens? What an opportunity! The afternoon flew by, and, before long, the time had come to get married.

After work, she dashed to the cabin to change out of her uniform. Even though it would be a perfunctory ceremony to seal their marriage of convenience, she considered it important and wished to treat it as such. She’d misled Cosmic Mates and Fury to get here, but she intended to compensate by being the best wife she could be.A second chance to make a good impression.

With a few minutes to spare, she jumped into the shower then changed into a long-sleeved, green-brocade tunic over seafoam leggings. A light coat of cosmetics brought some color to her face, and a quick brush and fluff set her hair to rights.

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