Chapter 8 Destiny #2
Where once was a glaring and scowling Winged-One, there now stands a devoted dark angel.
His sharp features soften and one of the fangs digs softly into his bottom lip.
His whole body seems to pull towards my friend.
This is a serious case of pining, on at least one side of things.
I can’t get a read on Furga, though. Is she being formal because she is nervous?
Or because she doesn’t like him? I don’t think that is the case.
I don’t know why, I can just feel the energy between them.
“Furga, dear, why don’t you tell me what to get from the inventory and you can catch up with… Shemo, was it?”
“You do not know where anything is yet. Shemo, welcome my new human friend, Destiny. She has just moved in. I will be back shortly,” she says in that weird formal tone, before grabbing the remote and fleeing with the hovering cart.
I turn back to the Winged-One in front of me, who is back to glaring.
“So… Furga’s pretty great, right? She’s my first friend here.
” Which makes Khur my second friend, maybe?
I ponder that thought for a moment, wondering why it doesn’t feel quite right.
Whatever energy was sparking between us was certainly not friendly.
It felt part terrifying and part exhilarating, like I couldn’t breathe when I was around him.
Most likely because of how controlling he was, trying to barge into my apartment like he knew anything.
That thought makes a spark of rage shoot through me, but the train of thought is quickly cut off by the sound of a gruff throat clearing.
“Furga is a softie for a charity case. Don’t think you're special, human,” Shemo practically spits at me.
I rear back from his hateful words, for the first time noticing the height difference between us. The Winged-One towers over me, tall enough to lean over the counter and menace me from three feet away. I nod and try to smooth my face.
“Ok… let’s just wait ‘til Furga gets back in silence then.”
“Fine!”
I swallow my smart-ass reply down. He sounds like a child, really.
Now if Furga could come back before he tries to strangle me with those scary looking claw-hands that’d be great.
I strongly consider telling the scary dude in front of me I will go look for her and running away.
Peering down the rows of shelves behind me I try to decide what’s scarier, the endless shadowy aisles or the menacing bat-guy.
When I turn around, though, I rear back again, so hard I almost fall back on my ass.
Because Khur is here, and he has Shemo’s face pressed to the counter.
“You know we don’t tolerate speciesism here, Shemo. Of all people, honestly, I didn’t expect this from you. I’m really disappointed.”
Khur sounds nonchalant, relaxed, not like he is pinning a vampire with wings to the counter. Shemo is limp beneath him, looking equal parts pissed and ashamed.
“I apologize, human,” he says between gritted teeth.
Khur’s demeanor changes in an instant. His upper lip goes up in a snarl and his hands tighten, biceps bulging in his jumpsuit, as he presses Shemo harder into the counter.
“Her name, Shemo. Apologize with her name. Furga gave it to you. Should I tell her you obviously don’t listen when she talks?”
At the reminder of his secret crush, Shemo starts looking a little panicked, trying to look up and behind me to make sure she wasn’t coming back.
“I can’t remember. Khur, please, you know I’m not speciesist. I’ve had a rough day.”
“Ask her nicely,” my defender growls, sending something hot straight between my legs.
I do not need protection, especially by a big controlling yeti, but I can’t deny how hot he is right now.
The standard issue jumpsuit is tight across his upper arms and his shoulders are wide and tall.
His horns curve from his skull back around his head, ending in points just next to his ears.
He’s bearing ferocious teeth and it’s all so animalistic a shiver goes through me.
Which is weird, because I would not have called myself a furry back on Earth.
In fact, I would have cringed at the very thought.
Now all I can do, though, is gawk at the huge, muscled male defending my honor so fiercely.
“What is your name? Please?” Shemo squeaks out.
I almost want to deny him, just to see what happens, but I’m not the cruel sort and I can see he is really worried about Furga seeing him in this compromising position, so I cut him a break.
“My name is Destiny. Pleasure to meet you, Shemo.” I say sweetly, smiling at the being plastered to the counter. Am I teasing a little? Maybe so, but it’s not often I’ve felt powerful over the last few years (or ever), and I can’t let the moment pass without a little fun.
“Thank you, Destiny. I apologize for my rudeness.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, Khur lets up on his arm-wings, pulling him to his feet and clapping his back jovially. Shemo cuts him a glaring side-eye, but then he nods, like they are all good.
“Don’t mind Shemo. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he means well.”
I’m saved from replying by the faint whir of the hover cart and a shout behind me.
“Khur! I had a feeling I might see you today.”
I glance at the big guy in question to see him rubbing one of his horns in what seems like a self-conscious gesture. He glances at me quickly before replying.
“Urzu sent me with a list. She’s making furkurra for dinner tonight.
” He turns to me then, straightening his shoulders and assuming a formal voice like Furga had done earlier with Shemo, and says, “I would like to invite you to dinner, Destiny. So you may try a traditional home-cooked Dhugaren meal. Urzu insists.”
Why do those last two words feel as though he’d jabbed me in the gut?
He makes it sound like Urzu had to insist, to convince him to invite me.
I realize I want him to invite me to dinner, not his sister and that freaks me the hell out.
He is 100% not my type: controlling and overprotective, loud and aggressive, oh, and he is an ALIEN.
I am not going to turn down alien food, though.
It’s part of my to-do list as a new citizen of Sanctuary Station: try everything.
I also don't want to turn down Urzu’s hospitality.
She was so kind last night and this morning, and I don't want to repay that kindness with a snub, even if I want to say no just to spite this stupid alien in front of me.
“Urzu insists, huh? Well in that case, I’d love to.”
“Not inviting me?” Furga pouts next to me, “One look at a pretty human and now I’m what? Scavenger food?”
My eyebrows are so high I feel them brush my hairline.
Is she referring to me? Does Khur think I’m pretty?
What should I do with this information? Do I want to do anything?
I glance over at him again, noticing how he has a good five inches on Shemo’s tall frame.
He’s so much broader, too. Burly, thick muscle covered in all that lusciously soft fur.
Remembering how soft it was when he carried me, I itch to sink my fingers into the thick ruff around his shoulders again.
Then the rest of Furga’s comment sticks and I swing my head around.
“What? Are you two dating?” I practically screech.
“No!” Khur and Shemo both respond before Furga can open her mouth.
She looks positively gleeful.
“I think Khur considers me like his sister. I was just teasing.”
“You know you don’t need an invite,” Khur gruffly says to Furga, “sometimes I wish you wouldn’t come to dinner.”
“You liar. You love having me there. Who else would distract Urzu from talking about that promotion?” She starts working on packaging Shemo’s order up, this time in a much smaller parachute that fills to the size of a child's balloon and floats as if filled with helium.
It looks absolutely delightful and I can't wait for my credits to come in just so I can buy a little balloon just like it. Who cares what is in it?
She hands the floating package to Shemo with a smile. “Isn't Destiny great? I've decided she's my new best friend. After Urzu of course.”
"Yes, she's great.” He grits out and I have to feel a bit satisfied if also very confused.
This dude does not like me and I have no clue why. I feel compelled to rectify that, to say something nice or offer help in some way, and I have to remind myself I can’t please everyone.
Instead I turn to Khur and ask, "what time is dinner?”
"19th hour. You remember how to get there, right? Oh and Urzu also wanted me to extend the invitation to your father."
He says it so formally and politely I know it's not a dig, but I still freeze up a bit.
“I'll see what I can do. He wasn't feeling good this morning."
“The elevators check for any illnesses or injuries anytime you get on.”
Hm. I didn't know that interesting tidbit. It's not entirely true though.
"Physical illnesses and injuries.”
All three of them nod at that, understanding blooming on Khur’s face. The vulnerability of what I just revealed makes my flight instinct kick in. Having nowhere to go but the spooky shelves behind me I turn to Furga quickly.
“Will you show me how to put Khur's order in and find everything?"
With a knowing look, Furga says goodbye to Shemo and gestures me closer. I huddle close, paying very close attention to Furga’s instructions even as my body is buzzing with awareness. I can feel Khur’s eyes on me like lasers.
“This is our data pad. There's rarely a need for the big screens, unless we need something off station. Nothing is programmed for Human yet, but I have it on order. It should be done by tomorrow.”
"English. I need Human English. We have a lot of languages."
“Oh, bleeding mountain, let me make sure I got the right one."
She fiddles and swipes on the screen a few times before pulling up an order form.
“This one? I can't read it."
On the screen it says Human-Albanian among a bunch of squiggles I'm assuming is the Dhugaren written language.
“Nope. Wanna pull the list up and I'll find English?"
A few swipes later and I'm scrolling through a drop down menu of languages in an alphabet I am familiar with.
It's surreal how similar it is to be filling a form out on my tablet back on Earth. I take my time, reading each language just because I can and it feels good to soak the familiarity of the letters in. I forgot how much I loved reading. Anything to take me away from my boring life back then. Well now I can’t remember the last time I was bored, but I can admit I would still like a good book to sink into.
I imagine things like books are a long way down the road, if they're forecasting shoe arrival in a month.
Sighing, I finally click on Human-American English and hand the tablet back to Furga.
Bright side. Bright side. Always look on the bright side, I chant to myself.
Shoes will come, and books too, eventually.
And in the meantime I'm on a space station hanging with aliens and getting kind of invited to dinner by a surprisingly hot yeti.
This is the best I've been since I left earth. Hell, since long before that.
With a renewed smile, I turn to Furga. “Why don't you show me the layout of the catacombs back there?"
She shudders, giving me a weird look. "Do all humans have such a dark sense of humor?”
Laughing to cover my own slight anxiety, I follow her back.