Page 47 of Alien Bride
My phone pinged with a text message.
I can’t speak on the phone while I am outside. The project I’m working on is almost finished and we can move forward. Is there something that you need?
I looked around the screen until I found the small image of a keyboard and clicked on it. It popped up and I typed in the first thing I could think of.
I need a washing machine.
I waited but he didn’t reply.
I also need your heat seeking missile.
I didn’t click send on that one and just stared at it for a while, smiling. I’d spent so much time reigning myself in. Being playful and crass in any capacity would get me labeled as an easy lay by men I’d never even met. The toxic paradigm of virgin slut was a load of rotting plant material that needed to be taken out to the compost before it burst into a new swarm of fruit flies.
I’d been judged for sleeping with a man too quickly, not sleeping with a man at all, smiling at a guy who smiled at me, accepting a free drink without spreading my legs, for wearing a tight dress, for wearing sweat pants to the grocery store, and now, for being the first to publicly sign up to be a monster’s mate.
Sometimes I just wanted to be able to be myself and not be judged.
I sighed. Then again, I was the one who was constantly putting myself out there for people to pick apart. It was my fault in that regard, wasn’t it?
That thought sat rotten in my gut. It didn’t feel right. But even so, that sense of self blame made me move my finger moved to delete the message when another one of his popped up.
I had to inquire what a washing machine was. I should have had that already available and my mistake will be rectified shortly. I’ve sent a request to the Shek’invitali delegation in this system. They will be providing a matter printer and the current catalog of human designs for the space, so you will be able to manufacture whatever is missing.
A warmth crept into my heart as I read those words. He acknowledged a mistake and said what he was doing to fix it. It was strange how such a tiny moment could cause such a large feeling in my chest, but I knew why. I wasn’t used to being with someone who was thoughtful.
He was thoughtful.
I moved my finger to type out my next message and accidentally hit send.
I froze for a moment. What could I say? What should I say?
He probably didn’t even know what a heat seeking missile was.
His reply popped up.
This is for your treatment? I’ve almost finished setting things up to the doctor’s parameters, but I didn’t include any weaponry. Would the threat of missiles and military action be the most terrifying option for you?
What the heck was he writing about?
No, the phrasing I used was a crude attempt to flirt with you. I didn’t mean to send it.
I waited for him to elaborate on what he had written.
I understand you are impatient. I wish I had been spending this time with you. I find you to be a singularly intoxicating creature and the memory of your scent on my face is driving me to difficulty. I must finish this work for you so we can apply the Norratar’s medical treatment for your chemical addiction. If we had mated while you were in a state of severe imbalance like that, the results could vary from what my people are used to. All human Atisari matings have been done when the human was in optimal health.
I felt a warmth in my skin as I read the bit about my scent, then I typed a question this time, curious about what more he could tell me about our future mating.
What should I be expecting? Do you want me to make myself ready for you?
I cringed as I read that a second time after I sent it. What was I thinking? Make myself ready? I might as well send him a picture of my fingers in my cooch. I’d likely get a better result that way.
You can expect to be thoroughly terrified.
“What in all the kinky loving fuck?” I gaped at the screen hovering in the air above my wrist.
I am going to make a nightmare of your species come true. I will trigger the deep recesses of your animal psyche and force you to experience the full effect of your survival instincts operating in overdrive. You will be triggered on a visceral level.
I read that message several times in complete silence, feeling my heart rate pick up as I read it a third time before typing out a reply.
