CHAPTER 4
NOVA
Part of me completely and totally trusts Zyren for some irrational reason, which makes the other half of my brain think I had better get the fuck out of here.
I’m trying to be objective and assess the situation based on the information I have. But every time I run the numbers, the he’s so hot though coefficient spirals out of control.
His cold, intimidating demeanor should put me on guard, but somehow it just makes him hotter.
I was going to get matched with some random Arthropoid, right? So why not a hot doctor wasp? Who has coffee?
I’m so much more of a slut for coffee than I would have thought.
It’s as good as I remember. Better, even. No wonder most of the human species used to be addicted to this stuff.
In the reasons to not impulsively agree to be this guy’s hucow pet column stand only two entries:
One: That’s insane.
Two: Seeing my pain on his face is not an experience I want to repeat.
Complex, distressing emotions swirl in my chest, and I’d rather not untangle them if I don’t have to. I’ll be quite content going back to pretending they don’t exist.
Something warm suddenly rubs across my brow, startling me—Zyren’s thumb. I surprise myself by not recoiling from the touch. While his gentle fingers are there, the ever-present halo of pain around my head eases.
As soon as he lowers his hands, it returns, but my brow stays un-furrowed for the moment.
“It’s a significant decision,” he says. “You can take your time deciding.”
I clear my throat and take a sip of my coffee. “I don’t think I’ll need too long… I just want to know, why do you want a hucow pet?”
Zyren considers this carefully, and his wings vibrate behind him as he thinks.
“A steady supply of fresh milk would be very helpful to my work. Many medicines and vitamins are either fat soluble or work best when taken with fat, and hucow milk is highly palatable to the point of overcoming bitter formulations, so I would be able to help my patients in several ways without increasing costs, were I to have my own hucow. That was the totality of my intention when Sylvus pitched me on this little experiment, and I affirmed my interest.”
“It… was the totality of your intention?”
“Yes, I must confess I’m now…” His wings buzz quietly, and the full intensity of his gaze meets mine. “…very invested in helping you with your problem.”
My gut says there’s more to it than that. Strangely, the potential for an ulterior motive puts me at ease. I’d rather not be wanted only for my problems.
“How about you?” he asks. “Why do you want to be a hucow?”
I had a whole plan of what to say. But when I open my mouth, the quiet truth slips out.
“I just want the pain to stop.” I look down into my coffee mug, blushing, ashamed of my weakness. Surely I’ll be turned away now, like an addict caught lying for opiates.
Instead, a warm hand cups my cheek and lifts my gaze.
My breath catches, and I shudder as Zyren’s dark eyes find mine.
“I promise you, Nova, I will not rest until your pain is gone.”
I pull skepticism around my heart like a cloak against the wind. “What if it never goes away?”
His thumb caresses my cheek, and he answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“Then I will never rest.”
As Zyren carries me through the air again, heading to one of Sylvus’s properties, I try to talk myself out of this.
But the thing I keep circling back to is that getting in with the hucow doctor is less insane than my original plan. I’ve caught the attention of one of the few people in the universe that can help me, so why cast that aside?
Then again, hope is a frightening thing. The only thing worse than the pain is when hope leaves me empty-handed.
At this point, any distraction is welcome. I’m out of options, out of energy. Maybe I’ll always hurt, but at least I’ll be safe. At least I won’t have to work—not really.
The idea of lactating professionally is still strange—I’ve always had zero interest in pregnancy or anything that goes along with it—but everyone says the hucow transformation makes it feel good.
Hell, even with the sanctioned clinics run by the ICSS, the bounce rate is practically zero. Everyone who’s ever taken the role has kept it. It’s a statistical anomaly.
The most likely explanation is that the transformation effectively lobotomizes the individual, making them incapable of wanting anything else.
I could go for a lobotomy right now.
Zyren flies deftly through a circular opening in a large silken structure, then lands on a floor of springy silk.
My insistence that he can set me down dies when I realize there isn’t a flat surface in the entire place.
Tunnels arranged at every conceivable angle connect spheroid chambers with no real division between floor, ceiling, and wall.
Yet at the same time, the space somehow manages to evoke the mood of a Victorian mansion.
I think it’s the dim, flickering lights set into cubbies on the walls and the wide variety of objects on display—tapestries, chandeliers, fine pottery, even a vintage globe that clearly represents Earth.
We soon reach a moody sitting room that contains what can only be the curator of this place—an Arachnoid with grey skin and dark hair streaked with white. Ruffs of fur surround his knees and where his torso meets his spider half. His intimidating aura confirms his identity; this must be Sylvus.
At the bottom of the room, sitting on a velvet couch nestled there, is a woman who can only be his hucow.
She’s markedly plump with breasts so large I have to wonder how they don’t hurt her spine just from holding them up, but she’s glowing with health.
She wears a wrap dress made of Arachnoid silk, translucent enough to show the darker pink of her nipples.
Curly auburn hair frames her face, and her emerald eyes regard me warmly.
“Nova! It’s nice to meet you. Sorry I couldn’t greet you myself; I was… um, unexpectedly indisposed.”
Sylvus leans down and affectionately pinches the woman’s nipple. She yelps and glares at him, her blush brightening.
As Sylvus chuckles, she clears her throat.
“As I was saying, I’m Andromeda. Since you’re here, I’m assuming Zyren signed off on you?”
Zyren speaks behind me. “About that…”
Sylvus nods down at the couch.
Zyren sets me next to Andromeda, then he and Sylvus climb higher in the room to speak quietly.
Andromeda looks at me with concern. “Did he tell you his assessment?”
“He said my case might be complex, so… it will only work if I’m his pet.”
Andromeda’s face instantly brightens. “Oh! Oh, that’s great news. Sylvus speaks very highly of Zyren. He met our last candidate, Celeste—you’ll meet her too before long; she lives out in the desert with Razul—but they didn’t hit it off.”
Something urgent bubbles in my chest that isn’t pain—I don’t like the idea of him considering another. Is this jealousy? I’ve never been the jealous type. Until now, I guess.
My mind skips over that for now and latches on to the juicier revelation—Andromeda doesn’t seem lobotomized in the slightest. She’s lucid, sharp.
I fidget with the hem of my shorts. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything. Sorry I didn’t say that clearly before; the whole reason I’m here is to answer your questions.”
I have a thousand questions, but the answers will reveal themselves in time. Just like when I was a Solver, I narrow down to the actionable queries—the ones whose answers might actually change my decision to go through with this.
“Does it really feel as good as everyone says it does?”
Andromeda’s flush deepens as she gives a slight smile. “Yeah. It does.”
“And you’re permitted… activities? Hobbies?”
Andromeda nods. “As many or as few as I want.”
“Do you socialize?”
“Celeste and I are friends. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.”
“Zyren mentioned Jurrasic Park?”
Andromeda’s eyes twinkle. “We’ll have a movie night once you’re settled in! How’s that sound?”
A genuine smile crosses my face. “That sounds perfect.”
Zyren climbs down and offers me a hand.
Fear sends my pulse spiking as I think about what’s next. I lean into that fear, into how it makes me feel alive.
I set my fingers into Zyren’s palm, and he pulls me smoothly to his chest. My heart beats so fiercely I think it might escape my rib cage.
“Are you ready?” Zyren asks quietly.
I take a deep breath and nod.
“Yes.”