Amy

The outlaw had changed his mind about letting me stay. A spark of joy I hadn’t felt since before my mom passed away snuck up on me. I kept hope in check as I did all other positive emotions. They all proved a waste of my time. Everything hopeful, positive, or even remotely good, including the people I cared about, had died, and so I’d learned to guard against feeling great about shit.

We walked through the sitting room and under another archway into a dining room with a long table that would comfortably seat twenty people. I should probably ask him why he’d changed his mind, but I didn’t care apart from that he had changed his mind. Frankly, I didn’t want to press my luck either.

Boxes were stacked on the floors and labeled with my habitat’s seals. My former habitat. A pile of ribbons lay on top of the boxes, and I presumed someone had already ordered the material for the party. I took a purple ribbon between my fingertips while the outlaw who fancied himself a lord walked to the other end of the table. The velvet was soft. I dropped the ribbon. “Mister…?” I asked, because nobody had told me the outlaw’s name.

“Nentres.”

That sounded foreign even though his accent sounded Southern. “A unique name,” I said.

“For a unique guy, I’d like to think.” He sat down, picked up a golden bell, and jiggled it. I’d left the current century and gotten transported into another time period where lords of manors jingled service bells. You didn’t see this kind of stuff in Jersey.

Sure enough, the young blonde who’d brought us tea came in with a tray and set it in front of Nentres. She stood by him, hands clasped in front of her, her big brown eyes on me. “Hi,” she said, lifting the corners of her lips.

I smiled in turn. “Hi.”

“I’m Cindy.”

I walked the length of the table and extended my hand. “Amy,” I said, voice pitched slightly higher, hoping Nentres would catch on and quit calling me Annie. “Nice to meet you.”

Nentres didn’t seem to pick up on my subtle correction. Instead, he picked up a napkin and placed it over his lap, then uncovered the plates. I stared at the fresh eggs, cheese…and when he uncovered another plate, I swallowed drool. A pile of bacon. “Is it real?” I asked.

Under the table, he kicked out a chair on his right. “Sit and try.”

I sat down and looked around for a fork.

“I’ll bring the second setting,” Cindy said.

“We’re fine,” he said. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

Cindy lingered and kept staring at me, a strange look in her eyes. Maybe I had something on my face?

“Off you go,” Nentres repeated.

“If you need something,” she told me, “I’ll be around. Just ring the bell.”

“Would you bring me a paper and a pen, please?”

She squealed and spun on her heel.

Was that a yes? I ran a hand over my face, nonchalantly trying to remove whatever I had stuck on there. I hoped it wasn’t something awful like a booger. Oh boy. I looked around and spotted a mirror, then went to check my face. All clear. A picture of an older couple and a blond boy right on the porch of this very home sat on top of an antique dresser under the mirror. Nentres and his parents? I wanted to ask about them, but when I sat back down at the table, Nentres picked up a piece of bacon and offered it to me. “Taste the real thing.”

The smell of bacon made my empty stomach growl. I’d lied about having breakfast. My nerves had eaten at me this morning and curbed my appetite. I leaned away from the meal. “I don’t actually eat meat.” Most people in the habitat didn’t.

He blinked. “What do you eat?”

“Do you mean from the fresh selection?”

“Any selection.”

“Vegetables.”

He looked down at his plate. “Do you eat eggs?”

“No.”

“It’s not meat.”

“It’s a murdered chick.”

“Only if the egg is fertilized,” he said.

“But how do you know if it’s not?”

He smirked. “I’m gonna eat it anyway.”

I shrugged. “To each his own.”

Cindy returned with a black pen and a baby-blue pad of paper. I picked up the pen while Nentres crunched on bacon. “Sugar?”

I glanced up from the paper.

“Yes, my lord,” Cindy said.

“Amy, here”—he looked pointedly at me, telling me he’d heard my subtle note about my name—“doesn’t eat meat or eggs.”

“Oh, okay. She’s a vegan.”

“I’m happy you know what that is. Make sure Mary knows too.”

Cindy made a face. “She’s prepping crawfish for dinner.”

“That’s fine. I’m not a vegetarian. Potatoes, zucchini, rice? What do you like, Amy?”

“Oh, please, don’t inconvenience yourself. It’s really simple. I could have the side dishes. Whatever is already on the menu.”

“What do you like?” he asked again.

“Anything. I’m not picky.”

Nentres’s jaw worked. He seemed pissed. “Name one thing that you like, something that excites you.”

“A food thing?”

“Anything at all.”

As a child, I used to like strawberries. I remembered the taste, the way the seeds stuck between my teeth, and the mess I used to make when I’d dipped them in sugar. Mom never scolded me for the mess. Stepmom always scolded me, so I learned how to eat like a lady. A lot of good it did me. I’d ended up sharing a table with an outlaw instead of a level-four cyborg inside the warm habitat. A cursed reject.

I wished there was a way I could get to Pittsburgh and see my cousins. They’d help me out, let me stay with them. Both my cousins worked in the local market inside a settlement guarded by one of the four Creatures of Earth, a mighty white dragon. They told me all about him. He took care of his people, and I could actually make my own money instead of depending on Stepmother for a monthly allowance. Now I depended on an outlaw’s mercy and how well I’d organize his ball.

I opened my mouth to answer him, but he interrupted. “We’ll have breakfast tomorrow morning. By tonight, you will have told Cindy three foods you enjoy. And as an additional assignment, you will make a list of five things you like. Any five things will do. Understood?”

I suppressed an eye roll. “Yes, my lord.”

“You can write it as a letter to me. Something starting with: To my dear lord and master Nentres.”

I chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re funny. I thought outlaw life was hard, and you don’t seem to have it too bad. What am I missing? Are you a secret cyborg outside the habitat or something?”

“Cyborg? Hell, no.”

“Aren’t you an outlaw, though?”

He chewed on a piece of bread. “How can anyone be an outlaw in a land with no law?”

“Good point.”

He chuckled. “I gamble and acquire wealth from unlucky bastards or plain stupid bastards.”

I frowned. “Gamble? You mean play cards?”

“Poker. Do you play poker?”

“I do, actually.”

“We’ll play a game sometime.”

“I have nothing to bet.”

Nentres leaned in. “You have your clothes.”

Feeling a bit…hot from the heat in his eyes, I picked up my pen. “How many people do you plan to invite to the party?”

Nentres leaned back and tapped his fork on the plate. Click. Click. Click. Was he trying to annoy me? ’Cause it was mighty annoying.

“I reckon about three hundred prospects.”

Oh boy. “So about six hundred people. No problem. You have a large home. It can be done.”

“Why six hundred?”

“One invitation per person, and they can bring one guest.”

“No. Only virgins at my ball.”

“It’s really a ball, not a party?”

“A ball.”

What the hell was a ball? “A masked ball?”

“Good idea.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Does it?”

I jotted down the count, tapping my pen on the paper, thinking about how I was gonna find three hundred human virgins. “Does it what?”

“Does it sound fun to you?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He tapped his fork on the plate again. Click. Click. Click. I wanted to take it from his hand and poke him with it. Annoying!

“What are you thinking about?” he asked and wiped his mouth, then pushed aside his plates to make room for his elbows on the table.

“I need to figure out where to find three hundred virgins.” Or how to stab him with a fork and run away with my inheritance money.

“Had you accepted my marriage offer, you wouldn’t have this problem.” He winked.

“I like my problem.”

“You can put that on top of tomorrow’s list of likes.”

What a conceited jerk. “I will.” I tapped my pen.

“Amy, let’s say I’m interested. Would you come to my ball?”

“Not a virgin. Remember?”

“I’d make an exception.”

I gave him a blank stare. I would rather eat a plate of bacon than compete for a man’s attention with three hundred women. My mom had said that when a man loves a woman, he would go above and beyond to make her his. I didn’t see why I should go above and beyond for an outlaw with a gambling problem. Even if said outlaw was one of the handsomest men I’d ever seen. Drool-worthy handsome, the kind of handsome in a league of his own, and certainly out of mine. I pictured this guy with a Stepford wife living his perfect little life. “Nah, I’m good,” I said. “Let’s talk about the lighting. The light sets the mood in the room. It’s everything. Oh, and music. I bet New Orleans has got some great bands. Do you have any bands in mind?”

“Why not consider an opportunity to marry me?”

I didn’t take the bait. “Do you have a date set for the ball?”

“Saturday.”

Today was Sunday. “Are you serious?”

“As sweet tea.”

“I need to get going, then. Is there anything else you want to tell me, or are you leaving it all up to me?” I hoped he would leave me to it. I worked best alone and on my own schedule.

“You never answered my question.”

I sighed. “It bugs the crap out of you that I find you resistible, doesn’t it?”

“Why, yes, it does.”

“You are handsome,” I told him. An understatement.

“I know.”

“And rich.”

“Mm-hm.”

“But I got other things on my mind right now. That’s all.”

“Tell me about those other things.”

“Planning a ball. Coming up with a list of likes. Seeing what to do with my new circumstances.”

“What about your circumstances? They’re not bad. You live in the nicest place in all of the state of Louisiana. Most women would sleep with me for the opportunity.”

I ignored the part about sex. “Good on you. Let’s define the parameters for prospects.”

His fork clicked the plate again. “Those are easy. Like my bride should be. Easy.”

I jotted down easy. “And?”

“Quick to obey. Which would disqualify you even if you tried.”

Stepford! “Boom. There you have it. I’m disqualified based solely on my rebellious nature.” Not even close. I never rebelled. Even though cyborg functions bored me, I mingled with suitable cyborgs in order to find a husband and get off my stepmom’s back.

“Everyone can be trained.” Nentres smirked. “Some may need more training than others, but I would make an effort for my wife.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you will.”

Next to easy, I jotted down docile. “So, about the lighting.” At least he had electricity here. Must pay a fortune for the luxury. My cousins outside the habitats used candles.

“It’s set already. We’ll have natural light.”

“Solar power?”

“No, from the fire.”

I looked around the room. Decorative torches stuck out of the walls, the flames flickering in a…docile fashion. Suitable for daylight, but not good enough for nighttime. “We need more fire,” I said.

The flames ignited, doubling their size, and the heat washed over me instantly. I shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Fire hazard, I jotted in my notes, then rubbed my hands together and pulled my sleeves over them. “Nice trick.”

Blue eyes glanced from me to the nearest torch and back. “I haven’t done a thing.”

I rubbed my shoulders.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Nah. I’m good.”

A crack sounded from behind me, and I turned in my chair. George threw something into the fireplace, a ball with little flames around it. But those flames spread instantly all over the wood.

“There’s not enough wood to heat up this place.” I suppressed the urge to criticize their lack of environmental consideration. After the volcanic devastation and the resulting Ice Age, wood was hard to come by, and the Cy urged us to conserve natural resources. Cutting down trees for wood rubbed me the wrong way.

“The wood is a decoration,” Nentres said.

I turned back and got my pen again. “How so?”

“The fire burns on command and will burn for however long…I say so.”

I chuckled. This guy cracked me up. His egomania bordered on delusional. He thought he could command the fire. “You mean you train the fire to burn?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. And I know one other thing I’m gonna need to train.”

“Is it your dog?”

Nentres

My spirit found me handsome and charming, but not charming enough to sleep with or even consider marrying. I wanted her. Bad. I couldn’t give three or twelve shits that we’d met only an hour ago, and found it completely unfair I was the only one involved in our relationship. If Mother Nature, who had given me a dragon beast that day in the barracks, was here, I would tell her she’d made a mistake in gifting us the spirits.

From what I understood, it wasn’t the first time she’d made a mistake. She’d told Lance that the previous Earth elemental caused the volcanic eruptions and tried to end the world. I wondered if he went on a self-destructive streak over a woman. It could’ve been. Men did all kinds of things for women, while this one sat here with her pen and wrote silly notes instead of paying attention to me.

I drummed my fork on the plate, the clicks easing my temper.

If my beast hadn’t stirred and if the fire all around me didn’t buzz in my ears, I wouldn’t have believed this girl was a spirit, essentially a mate for my dragon beast and therefore a wife to me.

We did have a relationship, whether she liked it or not. “George.” A sharp, loud command.

“Still hear well, my lord.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Not in the mood, they said. “Show Miss Trahan into…the room. Let her rest, think things over.”

“I don’t need rest, thank you. Can I see those invitations my stepmom talked about? I’d like to match the color patterns.”

“There’re no invitations.”

“So how did people know to tell her you’re having this ball thing?”

“Word of mouth.”

She chewed her lip. “I need nice paper. Thick and beige. I think that would go with the house décor.”

“Hm?”

“For invitations. I’d like to get started on those and get them done by this afternoon.”

“You mean real invitations. Like wedding invitations?” What in the Lord’s name… “I think you should relax a bit in your new room and worry about this ball thing tomorrow.”

“But there’s no time to relax. I gotta print at least a thousand invitations and distribute them.”

Well, Amy wasn’t a quitter. I ran a hand through my hair. Hardheaded woman too. “Why one thousand?”

“Operating at a loss. Not everyone will come.”

“Ah. And where would you distribute them?”

“Around.”

“The habitat? I doubt a bride from the habitat would suit me.”

“Boom. I’m from the habitat.”

I’d walked right into that one, and Amy sassed me. I wanted to paddle her ass. At that thought, I showed her my teeth. “Invitations are paper, which is made out of trees. We can’t have that.”

“There’s paper now that is not made of trees,” George said and walked to the boxes I’d swiped from the Cy delivery ship as it descended on the habitat. Stealing from the Cy was my ultimate pastime.

George opened a box and pulled out a stack of colored paper.

“It’s perfect,” Amy said and left her chair, a bounce in her step. Planning this event excited her. I was competing for her attention with a stack of paper. At least with another man, I could eat him and make him disappear. What could I do about this damn ball?

The spirit must come to the ball. Lance had given me the message from Mother Nature when she’d visited him back in July. I’d hold the damn ball.

Amy sat on the other end of the table, then looked up and eyed the pen she forgot to bring.

I picked it up and brought it to her, then put my fists on the armrests on either side of her. Her shoulders pulled back instantly, her spine straight as an arrow. I sniffed around her ear, behind it, and her scent made me dizzy. I wanted to taste her skin, so I kissed her neck. She didn’t cock her head to give me access, just stared straight ahead. I inhaled, my nose more sensitive than a human’s. No feminine arousal either.

I wanted to bite her.

So I did.

I bit her neck.

Amy yelped and fisted her hands but said nothing.

I licked the place where my teeth had left a mark. “What’s the plan, Amy?”

“Plan?”

“Yes, the event plan.”

“Right. That.” She cleared her throat.

Alleluia, I’d managed to put her out of her comfort zone. Maybe I should bite her more. I’d bite her nipple next, then her earlobe, then her clit… And those thoughts went straight to my dick. If it were up to me, I’d bend her over the table, give her a swift paddling, and fuck her in both holes. Now, that would be a nice way to start my morning. “Yes?” I prompted. “You were sayin’?”

“I need a computer.”

“Don’t have one.”

“A printer?”

“Nope.”

“It’ll take me forever to write these by hand.”

“You have forever.”