Page 33 of I'm Not Your Pet

My gut squirmed as I entered the sparring room, searching for a familiar blue fin. Mala was where I expected him to be, his tentacles twisted around one of the punching bags, squeezing it till powder popped from the seams.

“Someone’s up early,” Mala teased, turning to look at me, his spots pink with affection. Mine shifted to match as I settled into the spot beside him, claiming a bag of my own to warm up.

“I…” It was difficult to admit what was going on inside my head. But I didn’t have much time—and I was nothing if not efficient. “Huu-goh has decided to take me as a mate.” My fist connected with the punching bag, tendrils exploding out before I retreated and repeated the motion. “I am happy.”

Mala made a sound beside me, slamming into his bag one more time before he grabbed it with one hand to stop it from swinging. “You do not sound happy.”

“I am happy,” I repeated, slamming into the bag again. And again. The harder I hit it, the better I felt. The ache in my limbs was familiar and comforting—as was Mala’s presence. Above us, the lights gleamed as bright as they always did. They bleached the corners of darkness, casting the room in a sterile glow.

“That’s why you’re abusing that poor punching bag?” Mala snarked, as though we didn’t do this every morning—with the same brutal exuberance. “Because you’re happy.”

“Yes.” I sucked in a breath, hitting the bag one last time, before I caught it the same way he had. My limbs felt molten, the iciness of my own fears having faded as I twisted to face him. His eyes flickered, head tilting to the side as his spots turned yellow.

“Tell me what’s really on your mind,” Mala said, stepping away from the bag and beckoning me after him. I trailed after him, for once content to let him call the shots as we headed toward the sparring ring in the center of the room. Back home, many Sahrks wrestled for sport, and out in space was no different. It kept our reflexes quick. And at times like this, when I was indecisive and shaky-footed, it was a comfort to have access to something so familiar.

Mala didn’t push again.

And for twenty minutes I worked my feelings out by throwing him to the mat. Over and over. Thump, thump, thump. He laughed every time I did, but even I could tell he was cutting me slack. Normally he’d be annoyed that I was stronger. He’d be insulting me, trying to get a rise out of me. But today, he was silent.

“I don’t know if I can be what he needs,” I finally admitted. Mala was pinned beneath me, pink and blue melted together as I forced him into the ground. The words hurt to admit as theyspilled free. Immediately, my tendrils retreated until our colors were our own again. I offered Mala a hand up. He grunted as he rose to his feet.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, voice quiet and patient.

“I’m…” My own chest was heaving as I scrubbed a hand over my face. I could feel my spots shifting. Probably too fast for him to read them. “I don’t want to fail him.”

“Roark.” Mala’s tentacles looped around my wrist and pulled it from my face. “I’ve known you for a long time.”

I nodded, because he had.

“And I’ve never seen you fail at anything you wanted. Not once.”

That was supposed to be reassuring, I knew that. But I just… “This is different,” I argued, my hearts beating erratically. Mala and I leaned against the ring that surrounded the sparring mats to keep the occupants inside. “I don’t know how to be…what he needs.”

“Sure you do.” Mala settled beside me. “It’s easy.”

I scoffed. “How?”

“You listen,” Mala shrugged a shoulder. I knew he was speaking from experience. His expression was fond as his eyes took on a faraway sheen. Like he was thinking of his own mate back home. His love—his soulmate. “You care.” He twisted to look at me. “And when you mess up, you apologize.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is,” Mala replied. “When you love someone—you tend to do those things anyway. Putting in the effort to make them happy is the easiest thing in the world.”

“I don’t know how to love someone.” My hearts thudded. “You know…about my past. I am not like you—I didn’t have…examples to learn from.”

“I get that,” Mala’s tone was gentle. “But you’re smart, Roark. When you became captain you didn’t know how to do that either.And look at you now.” He had been with me as I rose through the ranks. We had had many talks just like this one—though all of those felt less important now. “Best fucking captain The Dreamer has ever had.”

I scoffed, because that was not true. I had known the best captain. And he had died.

I forced those thoughts aside, focusing instead on Huu-goh. Even the thought of him brought me peace. “Huu-goh has been through…more than I think any of us can comprehend,” I added, trying to make sure Mala understood how strong my mate was.

“F’ukYuu is not a…” Mala lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure we were alone so as not to offend the men on board who adored the planet, “very hospitable place. Especially for those of a more gentle nature.”

I thought back on Huu-goh’s smile, all pearly flat teeth. The way he flipped through his journal, chewing his writing instrument to bits, pages and pages of observations decorating every surface. He didn’t seem unhappy. At least…unless he was on the leash. Or when he was…fuck. When he was left alone in the rooms for too long.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, grateful he understood.

“I want to make him happy,” I admitted. My voice was rough. “But I have no experience. I am blind in a way I’ve never been before. I don’t know if I’m the kind of person who is capable of being…someone’s partner.”

---