“What is that?” Leigh asks, interrupting my black thoughts. She crooks her tiny finger at a row of stalls, where vendors hawk their wares to weary travelers, all trudging through the space station. Just as I thought, she’s one of a tragically small number of females on the station.

“Food.”

“Food?” she says, and her nostrils flare, as though she’s trying to smell it and cannot.

It is easy to forget how weak the humans are, especially since Leigh’s bravado is that of the fiercest Roth warrior. Still, the small female can’t even work out the smells a mere hundred yards away.

I shake my head.

“Are you hungry?”

“Is it good?” she counters, still not looking at me. She hasn’t, not since this morning in the mess hall, before we docked at Hernus-12. When all I could do was imagine her in the outfits of my home world, bedecking her in the finest clothes credits can buy.

And then ripping them from her nubile body, piece by piece, as her soft hands gripped me and she moaned my name.

My cock grows hard at the fantasy.

“Well?” Leigh pokes me in the side. “Are you going to answer me?”

“I don’t know what human taste buds enjoy,” I admit. “Some are very, very sweet, and some are incredibly spicy. The Drazox we just passed enjoy the spice, but I am not sure what the human palate enjoys. If you like,” I offer hesitantly, not wanting to overstep. Wanting to please her, despite her apparent and deserved disdain of me. “We can try a few different things.”

“Do we have time? Is it safe?”

My heart lurches at her honest, candid expression. She may not think it, but she does trust me.

Why else would she bother asking me if it were safe?

“Leigh,” I say, my voice low and too rough for the beautiful flower of femininity next to me. “I would kill to keep you safe.”

“Er,” she says, her long, pale lashes fluttering. “I am not sure that means it’s safe.”

“You are safe with me. Besides, the longer we spend here, the longer we are seen together, the better to spread the word of our mating.” A quick glance around tells me word of our arrival has already spread.

Good. All the better for rumors to get back to the Overlord, to Roth itself.

Everything will go according to plan, and it doesn’t matter whether or not she knows the plan. As long as it all looks… real.

A pack of heavily furred Elkund brushes by too closely, and I growl a warning, causing the leader to cast me a speculative glance.

I tuck Leigh closer to my body, my hand possessive on her hip.

I lead her towards the rows of carts. She trails slightly behind me, lagging as she soaks in the many different trinkets and technologies and foods. A lump forms in my throat. It is strange, watching her take it in for the first time.

The surprise and delight on her face makes me feel like I’m experiencing it all for the first time again, too. I buy her several different treats, and she stays close to my side, silent and wary as I haggle with the various vendors.

The first is a stick of roasted gadkri, popular with the Drazox. She takes a careful sniff, and I stifle a laugh at the adorable expression on her face. After one bite, she spits it out, and sweat beads along her forehead.

“Too spicy,” she gasps. “That should be illegal.”

“It is, on some planets,” I tell her, infinitely amused, handing her a cup of chelda to wash the taste out.

“You must really hate me, to give me that one first.” She scrubs at her tongue with the now empty cup, and I grow hard at the sight of her wet, pink mouth.

“I don’t hate you,” I tell her fervently. “Not at all.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of Roth, dressed in battle gear, but mismatched. Not the Overlord’s troops then, but mercenaries. One points at me, and I narrow my eyes at him, baring my teeth in warning.

Not yet. Not until after we have completed the necessary shopping.

I tug Leigh closer to me. “My mate,” I tell her in a soft voice. “I could never hate you. You might drive me mad with your strange ways, but that is because I am entirely, utterly obsessed with you. From your flame-red hair down to your tiny toes, I want to memorize every inch of your body and wring pleasure from you without cease every night.”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” she grumbles.

I grin at her though. Despite her protests and prickly demeanor, her arousal scent clouds around her, thick and heady.

“Try this.” I hand her a small wooden boat with a gelatinous puddle in it, guiding her down the corridor that will take us to the tailor that specializes in Roth clothing and armor.

And away from the mercenaries.

She takes it from me, sniffing it, as if her paltry senses will be able to suss out anything about the delicacy.

“What is it?”

“Kuchdi. It’s sweet.” I don’t tell her anything else about it. I fear that anything else I tell her will sour her against it.

I hand her the utensil used for eating. She dips it into the treat, depositing the tiniest amount on the tip of her tongue. I glance between her face and the hallway, narrowly avoiding collision, rapt as I am in her expression.

“This is… this tastes like birthday cake,” she finally says, then spoons a huge amount into her mouth, beaming.

“It is a Roth dessert,” I tell her, so pleased that my entire chest seems to swell. “My favorite.”

“Oh.” Irritation and surprise flit across her expressive face. “It’s Roth?”

I frown. “Is it so hard to believe that my species made something you enjoy? I can think of many things that you would enjoy…”

A furious red creeps back into her cheeks, and she dumps the boat into a nearby trash receptacle, defiant as ever.

We arrive at the tailor too soon. I could watch her sample food all day, I think. My hand slips to the small of her back, and I propel her in front of me. True to her word, she plays the part of my mate, letting me touch her.

I wish she would always let me touch her.

The tailor glances up from the long, low table at the back of the store, fabric spread all over. A twang of longing that has nothing to do with the delectable female beside me winds my body tight.

I inhale deeply, closing my eyes.

Home. This place smells like home.

“Welcome, old friend,” the Roth tailor says, inclining his head in respect. “News of your arrival has already spread through the station.” He turns his gaze on Leigh, curiosity lighting his dark eyes. “It must have been hard to try to keep the news of your mate’s escape from Nyria V49 secret.”

I bite back a groan.

Like many of our species, this Roth deals in gossip and information as much as he does fabric and energy-rimmed armor. He’s fishing, but he clearly knows enough to know who and what Leigh is to me.

I don’t know why that bothers me so much, considering I have her with me for precisely that reason: to spread the news of our mating. To garner support among my people, to show them that there is a path to renewal of our species that does not involve war and the Overlord.

He makes it sound cheap, though. He makes Leigh sound… undesirable, and it makes me angry.

Leigh slips the hood off her head, her chin held high.

Fresh desire surges through me.

“You’re right,” she tells him easily, her green eyes burning with fury. “I’m his mate, and as such, I am the queen. Is this any way to treat royalty in your store? Nydo, I don’t think I want clothes from here after all.”

My mouth opens. She shoots me a perceptive look, and I snap it shut.

“Apologies,” the tailor says, dropping his head, then beating his shoulder twice in the traditional gesture of respect. “I meant no harm.”

“What you meant doesn’t matter. It’s what you said that does.” Leigh doesn’t move an inch, staring at him with unflinching green eyes, hard as ice straight from the caves of Northern Roth. “Nydo and I will not tolerate disrespect.”