Page 123 of I'm Not Your Pet

“Fucking hell, dude. That’s awful.”

“Yes, well. Itismy life.” Briar’s smile never wavered. “But apparently you want to change that.” He eyed the glittering diamonds around my neck, the packages in Roark’s arms, and then the big pink man himself. It felt like a test. “Are you sure you’re going to do this? I mean—you do realize you’re going to be painting a giant neon target on the back of your ship?”

Roark already knew that.

I was certain.

And he’d said yes.

“I’m sure,” I reached out to squeeze Roark’s palm as he rumbled thoughtfully, probably doing math still—or calculating the logistics of taking home sixteen humans. I knew it wasn’t a simple ask, but I just…

Icouldn’tleave them.

Especially after finding out what happened to Briar.

Roark returned my tight grip, before he pulled his communicator out of his pocket and began making calls. My eyes never strayed from the humans for sale. Briar was quiet beside me, as somber as I was despite his dazzling smile.

I didn’t know how Roark was going to manage this. Didn’t know how that was possible—at all. But I had faith anyway. Roark was a planner, a captain, a leader. If anyone could figure this out, it was him.

He had a bigger heart—hearts—than anyone I’d ever met.

Forty minutes later, Roark showed me exactly why he’d been named Captain.

There was a line-up of humans trailing behind us, all of them varying versions of terrified as they followed us down the escalator and toward our ship. Briar stayed beside me, silent for the most part. His eyes flickered everywhere, like he was searching the crowd for a danger only he could see.

As far as I could tell, he was the only human who had been experimented on. None of the others had tails or wings. Additionally, I was one of the only humans without a permanent translator implant. I could only assume Briar’s body modifications had something to do with the statement he’d made earlier about being a sample for customers.

Which was an awful thought that also led me to wonder why he’d been at the ball the night before.

Had he been in the process of being “tasted” then?

That’s so fucking awful.

The thought made me sick to my stomach, and I was quickly distracted from it as Roark’s crew met us at the bottom of the escalator. There were more Sahrk’s than humans, and they fanned out around the procession, guarding them silently while Roark and I led them toward the ship that would take us to our new home.

The colorful variety of aliens that wandered the docks shifted to the side, making room for us as they paused what they were doing to observe the steadily moving procession. All of them stared as we passed, their many eyes trained on the humans and their toothy saviors. It wasn’t positive attention. And some aliens wore more calculating expressions than others.

The attention was as sobering as it was frightening.

When I glanced up to check on Roark, his expression was grim, his spots were blue, and his eyes were distant. Like he was seeing a tragedy occur before it even happened.

After what he’d told me, I ached to comfort him.

So I tugged on his arm a little. He glanced down at me as wefinally—ohmygod—reached the ship’s boarding ramp. He blinked away the daze with a soft smile, but I could tell he was still worried.

“Huu-goh,” he said, a tendril leaking out of his arm to tuck a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear. “Is okay, little beast. Roark will make okay.”

It was the second time he’d made that promise.

And this time I was just as worried as the first.

I wasn’t sure it was okay.

Not if Roark was scared.

“Isokay,” he promised. “Roark will keep safe.”

I believed him.

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