Chapter 8
Zoe
I would have let it go, really, I would have. If he had just said porn , I would have given the cabinet a wide berth.
But he said fetish.
And that immediately made me curious what sort of fetish was involved. For a moment, I even wondered if it was his, because that would have kept me from snooping—I wasn’t so compulsively curious that I would have invaded his privacy to find out.
But Vodyan made it clear the entertainment in this room was for the previous client’s sake. And since he left it behind, I reasoned I had a right to take a look.
Finders, keepers.
I glanced at the door leading into the kitchen, but Vodyan was on the far side, rifling through the contents of the fish conserve cabinet. Just like my bedroom was stocked with clothing of various sizes, most likely to accommodate a range of clients, the kitchen was well stocked with a wide range of non-perishable food, and one entire cabinet was stuffed with canned fish.
Now I knew why .
Licking my lips and feeling ridiculously naughty, like I was trespassing and about to get caught, I gently eased the cabinet open and looked at the titles on the DVD cases inside. My eyes grew wider and wider the more I took in, a stupid laugh building in my throat. Some of the titles were extremely ridiculous to the point of being comical.
Alice in Shehru Wonderland: A Taboo Story. Two Girls, One Golem. Backdoor Bloodsuckers. Riding the Werewolf MILF. Double-Stuffed: Spider Shibari Dungeon. Underwater Adventures with Tight Vodnik Sweethearts.
I grabbed the last one to take a look at the cover. It depicted a muscular, grinning human guy with two vodnik women who looked at him adoringly, their tentacles wrapped around his legs almost up to the ridiculously tiny thong he wore to cover his bulging junk.
“So that’s how you follow suggestions?”
I shrieked and dropped the movie case. It opened, showing the disc inside. It was printed with a graphic of green tentacles not unlike Vodyan’s.
Oh God.
I looked up, cringing with embarrassment. It was the worst possible disc I could have dropped, and now, Vodyan’s eyes were glued to it, one of his tentacles tapping rhythmically against the doorway while his fists clenched.
“To be fair, it was just a suggestion,” I said, swallowing down my shame. “There’s nothing dangerous about this. At least, I hope not. I promise, I’m not the type to run into danger. I’m a coward at heart. I’ve never even killed anyone, not to mention cut off their tail.”
And why did I say that?
The explanation was simple. I babbled to break through the palpable tension that suddenly sprung in the room, thickening the air between us. Vodyan’s eyes shot to me and immediately away as his jaw worked. I wondered what his expression meant. Was it contempt?
For fuck’s sake. It’s just porn .
But then why was I so embarrassed and hot around the ears? Why did the air feel so charged?
With a low huff, Vodyan pushed away from the doorway. “If you end up watching it, keep the volume down, please.”
“What?” My mouth fell open with indignation. “I won’t watch porn when you’re around! And I definitely don’t have an interspecies fetish!”
He gave me a piercing look and finally nodded, disappearing back in the kitchen. I picked up the DVD and put it back in the cabinet, muttering obscenities under my breath. I was weirdly riled up and annoyed, not least because of the chopped nature of our conversations.
I sensed he was extremely closed off, and it irritated me more than it should.
With a sigh, I moved over to the non-porn movie selection and picked out one of the few romantic comedies I found. Most titles were action or thriller movies, so definitely not what I needed to soothe my still jittery nerves.
My skills were dusty, but I finally figured out how to play the movie and settled down with my peanut butter crackers. I’d already devoured a full can of peaches in the kitchen by the sink, and this was a follow-up snack.
“Wanna watch it with me?” I asked Vodyan when he emerged from the kitchen, carrying a stack of cans and a few other items in his arms.
He glanced at the screen and shook his head, disappearing in his room.
And that was that. After that day, it was like he wasn’t even there, and I hated it.
I almost didn’t see him at all during the five following days. I spent most of my time in the living room, and Vodyan came out only twice in that time, both times completely ignoring my presence apart from nodding curtly to acknowledge my enthusiastic greetings.
I didn’t know whether he avoided me because I grated on his nerves or if he just needed some time alone. Very optimistically, I decided it was probably the latter and vowed to myself not to bother him, even though I was stir-crazy by the third day .
Being all alone had never served me well.
I tried to keep my days full with books, movies, and yoga workout videos, and even did a few cooking experiments in the kitchen, trying to come up with fun desserts from canned food and crackers, and yet I grew more and more lonely as time passed.
In a fit of desperation on the fourth day, I tried journaling, but it had never worked for me. It felt like sending my words into the void. I desperately needed to know someone was on the other side to hear when I talked, otherwise, it felt meaningless.
But I had no means of communication with the outside world, and my only company was my withdrawn, reticent bodyguard, who might as well not have been there at all.
He probably thrived all by his lonesome, while I slowly gave in to madness.
I was a social creature by nature, and the lack of company made me irritated and anxious. I processed my shit by talking about it, and with the lack of that outlet, I spiraled. I thought more and more about Matthias Carver and worried about my parents and sister, who were also under protection but not as extreme as mine.
Most of all, I mourned my old life.
Normally, I spent entire days surrounded by people, especially children. I used to work full-time in a kindergarten, and a few days a week I volunteered in the Minnesota Children’s Home after work. It was an institution housing orphaned and abandoned children while they waited to be placed in a suitable foster home.
Since the law favored foster care and adoption by parents of the same species as the child, finding proper care for a kid was sometimes a challenge. Some species were generally more eager to foster, while others—not so much. Children’s homes around the country were supposed to serve as temporary care homes, though in reality, children often spent years in them, some never entering the foster care system .
And while children’s homes were well funded in terms of the basic necessities, there was one thing that the overworked staff couldn’t possibly offer their charges: affection.
That was the gap I filled with my volunteer work.
I spent the fifth day of my de facto solitary confinement crying silently on the couch while a stupid car racing movie played in the background. I kept thinking about the children I’d spent years becoming friends with, reading to, and playing with. I thought about some of the babies I rocked, hugged, and sang lullabies to days before this entire ordeal began, and I couldn’t stop sobbing into the couch cushion.
Who was going to give them warmth and connection now that I was gone?
Volunteers had to undergo a lengthy vetting process to even be allowed inside a children’s home. Few people felt like jumping through so many hoops only to read books to other people’s children, often of various species.
My loneliness, coupled with all the grief and longing for simple connection, made that day the most miserable one of my adult life. I’d kept it together until then, but I was only human. Finally, I had to crack.
After crying for a full day, I dozed off. I woke up in the middle of the night, still on the couch. The lights were turned off, and when I sat up, a soft blanket slid off my shoulders. Vodyan must have covered me when I slept.
That was when I decided I’d had enough. And even though Vodyan probably hated me, he was the only person available. The blanket showed he cared, at least, and that gave me hope.
I went to sleep in my bed, and the next morning, I knocked on his door.
When it remained closed, I pressed my ear to the cool surface. There were faint splashing noises, but otherwise, it was silent. I knocked again, louder this time. There was a sudden big splash, and then nothing.
I was already fuming at his rudeness when he finally spoke up. “Yes? Do you need me? ”
Fuck, yes, I needed him. Treating his words as an invitation to come in, I opened the door and stepped inside.
“Whoa. This is different.”
My bedroom was generic in a minimalist, hotel-room sort of way. Vodyan’s room was a cavern. It was dark, the walls, ceiling and floor painted black and lit with faint, greenish lights placed just above the floor. The biggest source of light was a setup of over a dozen screens covering an entire wall.
A rectangular, sunken pool, also painted black, took up most of the room. It was filled almost to the brim with water, and Vodyan lounged inside, looking more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before.
His muscular arms were draped over the edge of the pool, and his tentacles spread wide, taking up the entire surface area. Manspreading, vodnik edition , I thought, my cheeks flushing with heat.
I didn’t know why, but the way he commanded so much space was wildly attractive. It spoke of power and confidence, and I drank him in until his blue eyes flashed as he sat up straighter.
“What is it?”
His voice was low and a bit hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it much and, in all fairness, that was probably the case. I cleared my throat, hesitantly taking a step closer.
“You have to talk to me,” I blurted out when I stood at the edge of the pool. “I’ll go crazy all on my own. I’m already halfway there.”
From the very edge, I saw the bottom of the pool was also lit with tiny pinpoints of green lights. They weren’t bright enough to spill out of the water, but etched his tentacles in an emerald glow. My hands burned with a need to touch him that was so powerful, it almost knocked me off my feet.
I hadn’t felt that need acutely during my five days of isolation, but now that I was in a room with another breathing, living person, my chest caved with the longing for touch. In my life before Matthias Carver, I hadn’t lived through a single day in which I hadn’t touched somebody, and now I was in withdrawal .
My hands shook.
The water splashed as Vodyan’s tentacles tangled together in a mesmerizing heap of powerful, muscular flesh. A big, dark sucker flashed in the light, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the words gathering on the tip of my tongue. If he refused me, I was ready to beg him for a crumb of connection.
God, this was embarrassing.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, turning so he faced me directly.
I almost sobbed with relief as I sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged on the damp tiles.
“Anything at this point. My life. Your life. The benefits of veganism. Chicken keeping. Art and architecture. This stupid movie I watched yesterday that I don’t even remember. We can talk about that eclectic porn collection that I, by the way, haven’t touched but felt tempted to. That’s how desperate I am for something that will keep me sane.”
Abruptly and without warning, Vodyan smiled.
I gasped as his face stretched in a brief smile, his eyes crinkling, his lips widening enough to reveal the sharp tips of even, white teeth. Just as quickly as it appeared, the smile vanished. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, it was gone.
But the lines of his face were softer and kinder now. He definitely didn’t look as hostile as that first day, and it made me slump in relief.
“Maybe not the porn,” he said. “I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime.”
“Well, now I want to ask you why, which sucks, because you don’t want to talk about it,” I said with a playful grin that was a bit hesitant.
I still worried he would kick me out.
But Vodyan only shrugged, the scale-covered muscles in his shoulders rippling. “The client who stayed here before you played it very loudly. I developed an intense dislike.”
“Ah,” I nodded, shuffling a bit closer until I could reach into the pool and dip my fingers in the water. It wasn’t quite like touching, but it felt a bit similar. That pool was so filled with his body, it almost seemed like the water was an organic part of him.
He watched my fingers as they skimmed the surface. The water was surprisingly cool, but not icy cold.
“So, where is he now? Why doesn’t he use this place anymore?” I asked, playing with the water.
It quieted some of my longing, but at the same time, it sharpened it into an even greater need. This was barely enough to fill the yawning craving for touch that gaped inside my chest.
“He’s dead,” Vodyan said without inflection, like it didn’t matter one way or another. When I looked up, startled, he shook his head. “He didn’t die in my care, but on land. This place is completely safe. You have nothing to worry about.”
Water splashed as one of his tentacles shot out with a jerky, compulsive motion. It almost brushed my fingers—I felt a ghost of a touch as the air he stirred whispered across my wet knuckles—and dipped back under the water.
I pretended I hadn’t noticed, and Vodyan didn’t comment on it, either.
“How long did it stand empty?” I asked, dipping my entire palm underwater.
Vodyan released a sharp breath, and I looked up. The softness leached out of his face, replaced by that hard look from the day we met. He didn’t look at me, his eyes focused on where my wrist dipped under the surface.
Slowly, as if he was a wild animal I didn’t want to startle, I pulled my hand out and wiped it on my leggings. The air felt suddenly heavy and charged, and I was anxious I’d done something wrong.
Vodyan looked up and slowly leaned back against the edge of the pool, relaxing.
“Eight years. But the MSA poured a ton of money into building it, and it’s useful in extreme cases, so we maintained it. The food was replaced when it expired. Client quarters were equipped with clothes and things for both genders to anticipate situations like yours, when someone had to be placed here without preparation. It’s completely self-sufficient energetically. The generator uses fresh water, just like your suit.”
I blinked a few times. This was probably the longest utterance he’d made in my company, and I was tempted to pump my fist in triumph. I finally got the big vodnik loner to talk.
Encouraged by that success, I asked the question that had been on my mind since the first day.
“Okay. You don’t have to answer the next one, just for the record. But can you tell me what was your deal with that lamia? Did you really cut off their tail?”
Water splashed as Vodyan shifted a bit, leaning his head back until he gazed at the ceiling. That position revealed the underside of his long, muscular throat, lighter in color where the delicate voice sack lay against his scaly skin. I pressed my lips together and used that moment to touch the water again. Just a bit. I barely grazed it with my fingertips.
“I did,” Vodyan said at length. “Just a small piece. He tried to steal a shipment of shanta I guarded. Mutilation is the customary punishment, and it can be delivered by any shanta handler as long as they are able. I was able.”
His lips tipped up in a small, cruel smirk. My fingers spasmed, partly with attraction, partly—apprehension. He heard the faint splash I made and straightened. His eyes narrowed on where I stroked the water.
“Is this all right?” I blurted.
He nodded once but didn’t lie back like he did before. His eyes fixated on my hand as I played. Something in my belly tightened, and I had to swallow with effort before I spoke again.
“So anyone can deliver the punishment? You don’t need a trial?”
He snorted, a tentacle jerking out until it almost touched my hand. I stilled for a moment before I dipped my fingers a bit deeper in, just to the first knuckle. Heat warmed my belly. It felt intimate. This was his space, and since I didn’t see furniture in the room, I suspected he slept in the pool .
I gulped, wondering if what I was doing was akin to playing with the sheets on somebody’s bed. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like such a good idea to keep going, but I didn’t want to stop. I needed at least a substitution of touch.
“Yes,” Vodyan answered with a deep rumble. “I assume you think it’s barbaric.”
“I think it’s fucking awesome,” I said without thinking. “If our law worked like that, I wouldn’t be in this situation. My life wouldn’t be over.”
He stared at me without moving, his eyes intense, and I deflated.
“I mean, no. I would still be here, because even if I had a gun and the skills to use it when I overheard Carver talking to administrator Kowalski, I still would have been too much of a coward to do it. Besides, he had two goons with him. I definitely wasn’t able. ”
I pulled my hand out, feeling dejected and angry with myself. Before I shook it off, Vodyan’s tentacle shot out and wrapped around my wrist.
I shivered, sparks tingling along my skin. This was exactly what I needed. His skin was wet and cool, his pulse throbbing just underneath, and I reveled in his touch.
When I looked at his face, he seemed startled, but then his expression smoothed into something not exactly soft or kind, but not neutral or hostile, either. I couldn’t read him.
His eyes glittered in the light of the screens as he spoke, his voice the lowest yet.
“You’re not a coward, Zoe.”