“So you want me to get you pregnant?” Vordigar looks openly skeptical. “To save your land?”
“Actually I want us to get married. Then you can have half of everything I have. A baby will just cement things further and prevent both of us from getting killed.”
“Or they kill you and the kid, too.”
I swallow hard. “Once everyone knows we’re married and have a child on the way, they’ll stop harassing us. There’s easier prey out there. Plus, your reputation as a convict will make people afraid to mess with you. As an added incentive, I’ve heard that a convict—even an escaped one—that marries one of the human women here can’t get sent back to prison. My need for you will supersede the law on that particular item. Ask your friend Tassar.”
That’s right, I’ve done all my homework. Now agree to this.
Vordigar eyes me. Hard. His gaze lands on my tits again. I wore a dress that emphasizes them, because I wanted to make sure the peace officers were distracted, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt things to look decent for Vordigar to try and convince him to take part in my plan. Tits are just another weapon in my arsenal, and if it means looking a little busty, I’ll do it. “I can’t make you pregnant. I’m mesakkah.”
“And I’m human. I noticed.” Oh, no one ever lets me forget how much humans are scorned and looked down upon out here in the big, vast, dangerous universe. We’re one step up from sentient blow-up dolls and treated worse than some people treat their dogs. “Our species aren’t compatible without outside assistance. I paid a lot to get a fertility shot that adjusts my body to accept your sperm. I have a very small window in which it works, though, and it’ll be closing in about a week.”
He just stares. “Kef me.”
“That’s the plan.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, he rubs his jaw, thinking.
I remain cool and calm. Getting hysterical won’t help things. I’m past hysterics anyhow. At this point, I’m down to cold, hard practicality. If he doesn’t want to do this, I have to turn around and go right back to that jail and try someone else. It’ll destroy my soul a bit, but I’ll do it if I have to. Vordigar isn’t my only option…he’s just the most pleasant one. He’s mesakkah, which is a race that’s generally well liked and also the ruling race of Risda III. That helps things. He’s not a murderer. He looks dangerous. He’s got friends here…and he’s got a reason to need to take me up on my offer. Those are all useful things, but if he says no, I won’t give up.
I’m never giving up.
“What do I get out of this?” Vordigar asks bluntly.
“Sex.”
The unscarred side of his mouth twitches. He leans forward toward me. “I’m not sure about you humans, but the way most mesakkah make babies is with sex.”
For some reason, his confiding, teasing tone makes me blush. Like I don’t know about babies or sex? “I know that’s how it works,” I tell him. “It’s one of the things I’m offering. As your wife, you have free access to my body. I’ll have sex with you anytime and every time you want.”
He stares at me, maybe a little startled at my business like tone. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
Oh, it bothers me. But not like it did once upon a time. Years of being a captive out in this unforgiving end of the universe has taught me that sex is just another bodily function, and one that doesn’t have to be romantic in the slightest. “It’s just sex,” I tell him. “You think I got captured and dragged from my world because someone wanted a human to do their laundry? I’ve had sex to get by in the past. I can do it when we’re married.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
I lick my lips, trying to think. He’s not moved by my offer of freaky human sex? That’s a first. “I’ll be your wife in every sense,” I tell him. “I’ll cook and clean and help run the farm. We’ll be equals. We’ll have land, and meat-stock, and a stipend from the government to help our farm set up. No one can send you back to prison. You’ll have a livelihood. All you have to do is stay with me.”
“I’m not a farmer,” he says flatly.
“I’m not either, but I’m learning.”
Vordigar rubs his jaw. He looks over at me again—and at my tits, which is a good sign—and then sighs. “I have places to be, Little Bit.”
“My name is Piper. And I know this isn’t ideal, but like I said, I have a very small window to get pregnant and you have a desperate situation. I thought we could mutually benefit each other. If you don’t agree, I can turn this air-sled around and go back to the jail to get another husband.”