Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
I’ve been so focused on the problem at hand that it allowed me to clear my head and not obsess over Ainar and his reappearance. It’s a good thing. It means I can try to think logically about his being here and what I want from him. He’s made it pretty clear that he’s interested in more than just last night’s hook-up.
I’m not sure how much more. He might just want to get laid again. He might want to be my friend. He might want to be in the baby’s life…if we’ve even made a baby.
I’m still awkwardly wet between my thighs and sweaty from last night, but my head feels clearer. I’m pretty confident I won’t make any impulsive decisions…and then I laugh, because what in the entire universe can be more impulsive than grabbing a stranger and demanding he make a baby with me?
When I open the door to my house, delicious scents fill my nose. It smells a bit like apple fritters, which I didn’t know I wanted until just now. My mouth waters and I wander into the kitchen, where Ainar is happily flipping a pancake, his tail wagging. He turns at the sight of me, a smile creasing his broad face. “Oh good. You’re back. Are you hungry? Do you like klischaar fruit? I noticed you had a jar of it untouched and it goes really well with these things you call pancakes.”
I move to the sink and wash my hands up to the elbow. “I don’t know what that fruit is. Is it the stuff that looks like snot? Mary that lives two farms over moved away and the women divided up her canned goods. I ended up with that but I’ve been too scared to try it.” I scrub up, trying not to think about how the rest of me needs a good scrubbing. Am I a heathen if I eat breakfast while wearing cum-filled panties?
Fuck it. Those pancakes smell too good.
Sitting at the table, Ainar puts a mug in front of me full of night tea and then plates several of the pancakes. “The fruit turns colorless when you cook it, so don’t be surprised to get a few chunks of it in your pancake.”
I take a cautious bite, and it does taste just like apples from home—a little more tart and unripe, but I could get used to the taste very quickly. The rich taste of the pancake sets it off nicely and I don’t even need honey to top it. The edges are crispy from the griddle and it’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time. “This is amazing,” I tell him, raising a hand to cover my mouth. “Holy crap, you’re a genius.”
His tail wags harder, and I swear, you’d think he’d won a prize. “The tea is a recipe of mine, too.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I hate night tea, so I take a small sip of it…and it’s a pleasant surprise. It’s not nearly as bitter as it normally is. I give him a look of astonishment, and Ainar’s face breaks into a huge grin. “What did you do to it?” I ask. “It tastes good!”
“Lucy—that’s Rektar’s mate—mentioned that she thought night tea was too strong. Back home my mother would always make her night tea with an atsach leaf in it. She had a bad stomach and didn’t like the bitterness of the tea, and she said the leaf soaked up the bad taste.”
“She’s right,” I tell him, drinking it with wonder. It reminds me of a rooibos tea from home instead of the burned char at the bottom of a coffee pot that’s been on the burner too long. Still strong, but with a smooth taste instead of a hard bitter edge. “I love this.”
“I am glad.” He beams at me and then sits down across from me at the table, with one pancake on his plate. “I am trying to learn the things that humans like. Working as a custodian reminds me that not all races think the same, and of course we do not taste things the same, either. Lucy has taught me that. One day she made a very sweet cookie for all of us at the custodial office—she is always baking for Rektar. And Sinath was the only one that could eat them. They were so sweet they made Paxon vomit.” He winces. “Humans like very sweet things.”
“And mesakkah do not?”
“We like a lot of flavors, but mostly savory ones.” He takes a small bite of pancake and then blurts out, “I still would like to lick your cunt. I meant that.”
I flush, shoving another bite of pancake into my mouth. “We should probably talk about this whole you and me thing.”
His tail makes a sad thump against his chair, and his smile remains, but I just know his tail isn’t wagging anymore. “Of course. Am I making you uncomfortable—”