Jade

JADE

Q row is nowhere to be seen, but I’ve always been quite good at getting my bearings. As it’s daylight and I paid some attention to my surroundings this time, I know where my egg apartment is. However, I take my time walking back through the market, looking at the myriad of species here on Kitchik, how they interact, the sort of items for sale.

Everywhere there is sparkling bunting and there’s a buzz about everything. It seems those aliens with obvious mouths are smiling, everyone is talking to each other, arms (sometimes more than one in the case of the aliens the same species as Qrow) are around shoulders.

This place is happy . I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in my problems and with spending time on a prison planet, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be somewhere where people want to be.

It reminds me a little of the village in the Dales where I grew up. All heavy limestone and pretty cottage gardens. And everyone knowing everyone else’s business. It was there I swore I’d never be a single mum, given the hard time my own mother got from certain quarters.

I place my hand over my stomach, still relatively hidden under the baggy clothes I wear, but my bump is most definitely obvious to touch. Looks like I don’t have a choice in the matter.

Yet again, I find myself choking back the tears. I can’t even begin to think how I got in this situation. If I do, I’ll surely go mad. I make my way out of the market and back onto the winding cobbled streets. It means I can breathe just a little easier.

Although, as everywhere is built on a hill, I am puffing as I go, eventually making it back to my egg apartment, I make my way up onto the roof where I fan myself and take in the views. It’s like something out of Tolkien. All jagged mountains, green valleys, and this settlement, not huge, not small, spread out like a medieval village. If it wasn’t for the bulbous spaceport and the occasional flying craft zipping across the sky, I’d have thought I’d walked through some sort of magic portal.

There is also a strong smell of woodsmoke woven through with nutmeg and cinnamon. It’s strangely comforting.

“Hello, little morsel,” a deep as sin voice, dripping with chocolate, murmurs in my ear.

I squeak in alarm, spinning to face the heavily muscled chest of Drekkan.

“What are you doing here?” I breathe.

He is very close. Far too close for a predator his size.

“I wanted to…” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. I’m close enough to feel his hips twitch.

My treacherous core pulses.

“I wanted to continue what we were talking about when we were so rudely interrupted,” Drekkan rumbles.

“What, about how you hate celebrating so much?” I reply, fighting the desire to put my hand on his chest, to feel exactly what Sarkarnii scales are like, because I’ve never expected to be toe to toe with one.

“About why you want to celebrate with these…creatures…even though you’ve just met them.”

“Unlike you, I enjoy a party. I don’t just brood in the corner like a rubbish ghost.”

“A rubbish ghost?” Drekkan rasps. “You’re comparing me to a rubbish ghost?”

“Well, you think you’re scary, but you’re not,” I say, getting into my stride.

“Do you want to test out your theory?” Drekkan bends his neck so he’s staring straight in my eyes.

His spin with fire. I can see myself in his blown pupils.

“My theory you don’t frighten anyone?” My voice has gone hoarse.

Close up, Drekkan is handsome. All chiseled cheekbones and Hollywood good looks. I’m playing with fire, literally, given he’s a Sarkarnii and…I like it.

“Are you scared, little snack? Right now?” Drekkan’s voice is so dark I’m wondering if someone turned out the lights on my brain.

“No,” I say in the least convincing voice ever.

He runs a finger up my throat until his claw is under my chin, tilting my face up to his. Our lips are achingly close.

“You should be. I’m the most dangerous thing on this pathetic rock,” he murmurs.

Dangerous for my knickers .

This has to be hormones or something, I can’t possibly be reacting to Drekkan like this. He’s an arrogant dick of a Sarkarnii who blows things up for fun, hates celebrations, and is hell bent on giving everyone a hard time.

“I doubt it.” My voice is querulous as I attempt to pull away from him.

His hand darts out, going around my waist and pulling me into him. His eyes widen, the pupils contracting to slits as, before I can stop him, his other hand runs over my pregnant stomach.

“You are with young!” he rasps, smoke curling from his nostrils.

I struggle in his grip.

“Let me go!”

“Is it another Sarkarnii?” Drekkan growls, eyes filled with the night.

“No! I don’t know who the father is. This was done to me by Bogarok.” I’m fighting him now, but there’s no getting away from his grip.

Or the hand which smooths over my stomach oh-so-gently.

“No father…” Drekkan says, his voice syrupy. “No other male?” He glares at me.

“No other fucking male, no!” I manage to break free of his grasp. “And it has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, little morsel, I think you’ll find it has everything to do with me.”