You can do this.
Yeah, right. I so don’t believe the voice in my head.
A guard assigns us to our rooms, and I shut the door behind me. The room is small, with a bed and an area for the bathroom, a sink, and that's it. The dress they gave me to wear is not flattering at all, which actually comforts me a little.
Which is ridiculous. I know why I’m here. I have a job to do, and I’ll do my part. I will.
But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy for me.
Worried and uneasy, I pace back and forth, eyeing the door, not wanting anyone to come inside. If I can just get through the day, maybe I’ll be okay. Yeah, tomorrow. Tomorrow I can get a better handle on things.
On the ride over, I took advantage of the deep sleep. Otherwise, I would’ve been too nervous and anxious to sleep. Even after the deep sleep, I’m not calm. That same nervous anxiety that I so desperately wanted to avoid is what’s fueling my quick, hurried steps.
A knock sounds at the door, and my throat closes. I can barely make a sound.
The door opens. A tall, muscular, blue-skinned Novan fills the doorway. He’s massive, and I’m quickly realizing that none of them wear shirts. At least they all wear pants.
Embarrassed that my gaze dropped to his pants, I stare at the floor.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I jerk, surprised that his voice is higher pitched than I expected. My head is still down, and I shrug. The movement causes hair to fall forward over my shoulders, half-covering my face.
He turns and shuts the door. He doesn’t slam it shut, but it still jars me to the point that I jump and back up a few steps.
“You don’t have to be frightened,” he says, stepping toward me. He only takes two steps, but they’re big ones, and he’s right by me. He reaches out and brushes my hair aside. “Ovian, you’re beautiful.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m frightened, scared, and it’s stupid for me to feel this way. I volunteered to be here. I’m here because I want to be, and the reason for coming is simple.
“You’re scared,” he says.
“I…”
“You just got here. One of the new ones.”
I nod.
He shifts uncomfortably, and my gaze lifts from the floor only high enough to see his pants.
He’s tented.
Oh. Yes. Ah. Great.
Stop being ridiculous, Callie!
But knowing why I’m here and actually being here are two different things. I’m petrified. I am so anxious that I don’t know what to do, what to say.
He sniffs, and I force myself to look up. His eyes are a strange neon yellow color that only serves to reinforce that he's alien.
“What can I do to make you more at ease?” he asks.
I shrug.
“You aren’t much of a talker, are you?” He grunts and gestures to the bed. “Why don’t you sit and make yourself comfortable?”
I swallow hard and sit down stiffly on the edge of the bed.
“You aren’t ready, are you?”
“Ah… no.”
“Do you want me to help make you ready?”
My eyes widen. “Ah…”
“Or you can.” He shrugs.
Stop being a baby, Callie.
I blink a few times and breathe in deep and let it out slowly. My hand. I can do this. I have to.
It’s not as if he’s ugly. He’s good-looking, I guess, in an alien kind of way, which is terrible for me to think, I know, but I’m trying, okay? He’s not forcing me or making any signs that I should hurry up, so he could be worse.
“If you don’t want to,” he starts in a strained voice.
I look over at him. He looks like he’s in physical pain. He’s leaning forward slightly, as if his stomach is bothering him. His pants are tented even more. He’s big. Really big.
“Ah…”
Just then, a bell rings. The Novan slams a hand into his open palm.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He blinks a few times, confusion replacing the anguish on his face. “Didn’t they tell you? The bells signify mealtime. I didn’t realize it was so close… If you’re hungry, you can go.”
“What about…”
His grin is big. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can handle this myself. You seem like you might need a bit to get settled.”
“Thank you.”
He nods, rubbing himself. I don’t think it’s to make me uncomfortable. If anything, I think it’s because he’s uncomfortable. “A word of advice, though?”
I nod as I inch toward the door.
“Some of the other breeders might be a little… less understanding.”
My face pales.
“They won’t hurt you,” he rushes to add, “but they might be a little more… zealous.”
“Ah. Great.”
“I—”
I'm already out the door. I glance up and down the hallway and follow the crowd of women down to the cafeteria. The food is… I don't know what it is, and I don't ask. I just accept a tray and turn around, trying to find a spot to sit. Most of the women are all talking and laughing. It's as if it's high school all over again with cliques already formed.
There isn't a table with no one, but there is one table that has three empty seats, and I rush over to claim it. I'm one of the last ones here, and I start to eat. Even though the food is a goopy mess, it doesn't taste that bad. In fact, after a few bites, I realize I like it. That's a relief, at least.
A woman with ebony skin waltzes in. She lets out a whoop, and a few of the others answer her. Immediately, she starts to launch into this tale about a lover who went at it for three hours. At first, I thought she meant sex, but no. She meant oral.
“How did he breathe?” someone asks her.
“Oh, he has a nose.”
“And how did he tolerate your smell for that long?”
