Twelve Days of Xanthus Read Online Free

O’Shea, we make things happen.”
     
    Her face went stern and serious. The look was so at odds with her musical voice and small stature that he laughed out loud.
     
    “Are you laughing at me, alien man?” She placed her hands on her hips and he swallowed. He shook his head back and forth and lowered his eyes.
     
    “No.”
     
    A gentle weight settled on to his shoulder and a floral scent surrounded him.
     
    “It’s okay, Xan. I was just kidding with you. You know a joke, funny ha-ha. I know things were different where you’re from but it’s not like that here. Look at me.” She placed a finger underneath his chin and tilted his head up to meet her gaze from where he sat. Her voice was soft and her touch was gentle. It was more kindness and concern than he’d ever been shown by any woman. As he peered into her eyes, he began to believe the things she said. He could be a different person here. No one knew about his past, he could make the future whatever he wished.
     
    “I’m different and as long as I have anything to say about it, you won’t be answering to anyone but yourself ever again, I promise.” She paused. “Okay, and maybe your boss, and the woman you’ll be with but never in the master-slave role… unless you like that kind of thing.”
     
    Her eyebrow curved up into an arch and the chip in his head showed him that usually meant the person was making a query.
     
    “I would like to be able to decide my own fate.”
     
    “Good, then we’ll need to work on that backbone. You’ll get eaten alive out there if we don’t.”
     
    His heart began to race. They ate the weak here? His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned his translation chip for instances of cannibalism.
     
    “Relax; it’s a phrase, not literal. It means people will take advantage of you.”
     
    “I understand now.” He breathed a sigh of relief.
     
    She chuckled. “You should have seen your face. First thing we have to do is get you dressed. That towel is distracting and on Earth, we don’t walk around in only a loin cloth. Here we keep things very covered up, unless we’re going for a swim or in the privacy of your home.” She removed her hand and he felt bereft. He wanted the contact but he didn’t think she’d appreciate him saying so.
     
    He followed her into one of the rooms where she pulled out one of the dresser drawers. She rummaged through and pulled out an outfit that looked similar to the pajamas she wore. A cream colored long sleeve shirt accompanied black, grey, and white plaid pants. It was more clothing than he’d ever worn in his life, but appropriate for the weather.
     
    “These are called pant legs; they go on your legs.”
     
    “I understand. Things aren’t so very different where I’m from.”
     
    Her face reddened. “Sorry. I don’t mean to insult your intelligence. This is the kind of situation I write about, not actually live through.”
     
    “You are a scribe, Violet?”
     
    “Sort of…put these on and I’ll explain it to you more.”
     
    He dropped his towel and she gasped. Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes dilated.
     
    “Y- You were supposed to wait until I left the room.”
     
    “Why? You’re my mistress.”
     
    “Because it’s not polite, and we’re trying to make you into an independent thinker.” Her gaze lowered to his hardening manhood. Pride swelled in his chest. He was having this reaction on her.
     
    “Oh God,” she whimpered.
     
    The sound sent prickles up his skin. The noise was filled with such need. The thought of actually being wanted by someone stirred a primal instinct. He wanted this mistress for his own, permanently. The concepts he’d witnessed among the Earthlings were amazing. Monogamy, marriage, dating. So many new opportunities were at his finger tips. If he could escape. Her floral scent deepened to an enchanting musk, and he licked his lips. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he desired more. The smell of arousal began to