slow our progress through the ’verse. We will have to terminate the bondmating using a slow-release nanochem so that she’s sexually receptive again in 3 months. That should be long enough a gap to deter this Torgeir. However, find out what she needs, wants. Perhaps she will come to me willingly. Play with that concept.
Yes, sir. It shall be done.
*****
Though Dresdek returned to their rooms, he immediately packed and left. The last sounds were of his boots tinkling as he shut the door. Without him, the place was emptier than seemed possible. She stood in the center of the living room aware she was alone with Torgeir. Now there were two bedrooms for two people. That had to be a plus?
Well, alone except for Mimi. Ella checked the spot above the door and could just make her out, blended with the pale rock up there. She’d arrived a few hours ago via the terrace.
Her feet ached so much from the walking that the incessant ankle itchiness faded to the background. The evening meal was yet to be eaten. They’d bought a selection of the local spiced and preserved meats and salads – things that would keep, though the power here had so far been reliable. The smoked fish had smelled divine.
Her stomach grumbled as Torgeir walked up behind her and said, without touching her. “Go choose one of the dresses to wear.”
She turned, puzzled and suspicious. The almighty Torgeir was letting her choose?
“Then we’ll talk, out there.” He indicated the terrace. “I’ll put together a tray of food and some of that Kiana wine.”
Talking? Stunned, she watched him walk to the main kitchen. The man must be ill.
Of all the dresses, one had made an impression on her – a red dress with silky fabric and colors that changed hue into subtler versions of flame along its length. The way it clung to her curves, accentuating her breasts, curving in at the waist, then flowed down to calf length like a flower blossom as yet unopened said elegant yet sexy. She never wore dresses but this one had beckoned to her.
She twirled, yes twirled, before the cracked head-high mirror glued to the bedroom wall, and she grinned. Gorgeous.
For this, she might just forgive him for making her try on all the see-through ones in public.
Venturing out onto the terrace wearing the garment seemed as dangerous as putting your hand through the cage bars to pat a hungry lion. She rarely dressed up, certainly not since leaving Earth, and Torgeir had plans to seduce her. She settled in the rickety chair that awaited her at the equally rickety table. A platter of food and wine sat on the table though both bottle and glasses seemed likely to be plas-g. Was everything here synthetic?
She laid her hand on the table and dared to meet his eyes. “With the cities covering this world, do they still have trees? Is this really timber?”
“I doubt the table or chairs are timber but they might be antique plas-g. Furniture’s been made out of it for centuries.”
“Uh-huh.” She tapped her glass with her fingernail. It sounded duller than glass. “Are we really discussing furniture?”
He slid an empty plate to her with a fork and knife resting on it. “Find what you like. The bread’s great too. Ella, I’m trying to be nice to you. I can see that bondmating is a foreign idea. I have a feeling my own desires are greater than yours at this point, though...” He smiled. “That will change.”
Her anger returned. “Your assumption that I’ll come round to your way of thinking bugs the hell out of me.”
“Bugs?” He frowned.
“That and your code and making me stay here. Everything really.” She stabbed at the food, transferring some randomly to her plate while he poured out the wine. “Don’t you see that? If you want to be nice, remove the code.”
“I see that you’re angry. Remove the code? No. I don’t trust you as yet.”
“You don’t trust me ?” Could she fork stab him?
“I also know that you were in grave danger by yourself and
Yes, sir. It shall be done.
*****
Though Dresdek returned to their rooms, he immediately packed and left. The last sounds were of his boots tinkling as he shut the door. Without him, the place was emptier than seemed possible. She stood in the center of the living room aware she was alone with Torgeir. Now there were two bedrooms for two people. That had to be a plus?
Well, alone except for Mimi. Ella checked the spot above the door and could just make her out, blended with the pale rock up there. She’d arrived a few hours ago via the terrace.
Her feet ached so much from the walking that the incessant ankle itchiness faded to the background. The evening meal was yet to be eaten. They’d bought a selection of the local spiced and preserved meats and salads – things that would keep, though the power here had so far been reliable. The smoked fish had smelled divine.
Her stomach grumbled as Torgeir walked up behind her and said, without touching her. “Go choose one of the dresses to wear.”
She turned, puzzled and suspicious. The almighty Torgeir was letting her choose?
“Then we’ll talk, out there.” He indicated the terrace. “I’ll put together a tray of food and some of that Kiana wine.”
Talking? Stunned, she watched him walk to the main kitchen. The man must be ill.
Of all the dresses, one had made an impression on her – a red dress with silky fabric and colors that changed hue into subtler versions of flame along its length. The way it clung to her curves, accentuating her breasts, curving in at the waist, then flowed down to calf length like a flower blossom as yet unopened said elegant yet sexy. She never wore dresses but this one had beckoned to her.
She twirled, yes twirled, before the cracked head-high mirror glued to the bedroom wall, and she grinned. Gorgeous.
For this, she might just forgive him for making her try on all the see-through ones in public.
Venturing out onto the terrace wearing the garment seemed as dangerous as putting your hand through the cage bars to pat a hungry lion. She rarely dressed up, certainly not since leaving Earth, and Torgeir had plans to seduce her. She settled in the rickety chair that awaited her at the equally rickety table. A platter of food and wine sat on the table though both bottle and glasses seemed likely to be plas-g. Was everything here synthetic?
She laid her hand on the table and dared to meet his eyes. “With the cities covering this world, do they still have trees? Is this really timber?”
“I doubt the table or chairs are timber but they might be antique plas-g. Furniture’s been made out of it for centuries.”
“Uh-huh.” She tapped her glass with her fingernail. It sounded duller than glass. “Are we really discussing furniture?”
He slid an empty plate to her with a fork and knife resting on it. “Find what you like. The bread’s great too. Ella, I’m trying to be nice to you. I can see that bondmating is a foreign idea. I have a feeling my own desires are greater than yours at this point, though...” He smiled. “That will change.”
Her anger returned. “Your assumption that I’ll come round to your way of thinking bugs the hell out of me.”
“Bugs?” He frowned.
“That and your code and making me stay here. Everything really.” She stabbed at the food, transferring some randomly to her plate while he poured out the wine. “Don’t you see that? If you want to be nice, remove the code.”
“I see that you’re angry. Remove the code? No. I don’t trust you as yet.”
“You don’t trust me ?” Could she fork stab him?
“I also know that you were in grave danger by yourself and
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