Page 13 of Mated to the Grumpy Alien

I frown, mulling over her words. “Capture women? Do you think I have captured women other than you? I assure you, you are the only woman I have captured.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Yes. That is why I said, ‘I assure you.’”

She opens her mouth, and then snaps it closed, scowling. “Well, if I’m the first woman you’ve kidnapped, it’s not reassuring. Not to me. Because I’m still here. Trapped against my will.”

“I don’t understand. Do you wish to leave this cave? Do you want to return to the village?”

“Of course I don’t want to return to the village. Don’t be a smart ass.”

I consider her words. “I don’t believe I understand this term. An ass is an animal, correct? One typically used for transport. I was not aware they had a reputation for being intelligent.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” she grumbles.

“Fuck?” I ask, perhaps a little too, hopefully. “I do know this word.”

“Oh, for… Forget it. Just forget it.” She makes a gesture as if to throw her hands up in frustration only to realize that if she does so the blanket will drop. “When did you learn English anyway?”

“I’m learning it now.” I raise my hand to the back of my neck where the implant has been for over a decade. “Just as you are learning my language. While you were out the first time, I installed a simple translation device that will integrate our languages.”

“A what?”

“I inserted a tiny subdermal neural interface chip at the base of your skull that–”

“You chipped me? Like a dog?”

I pause, my own neural interface struggling to keep up with some of the phrases she uses.

Before I can grasp her question, she throws another at me.

“Where are my clothes?”

Oh. Better. I have an answer to that.

“They were soiled from many days of travel.”

She wiggles to the edge of the bed and makes an effort to stand while holding the blanket to her. “Oh, I hope you didn’t pull any your-clothes-were-dirty-so-I-burned them bullshit.”

“No.” I frown, shaking my head. “Your clothes were dirty, so I cleaned them. Your people must waste clothing if they insist on burning things when they become dirty.” I walk over to the small table beside the door and pick up the stack of garments. I didn’t know how to remove the soil from all of them, since many were fabrics that were unfamiliar to me. But I did my best. I hold the stack out to her.

She snatches it out of my hands, careful to keep the blanket tucked under her arms. She tosses the items onto the bed and rifles through them, holding up one item after another. After a moment, she turns back to me. “Where are my underwear?”

“Your…” I let my words trail off, playing dumb.

“My underwear. My bra, my panties. Where are they?”

Still, I say nothing, even though I have a pretty good idea of the garments she’s referring to.

While she was asleep, Cyg had ample time to develop the language module that is allowing me to communicate with her. He used a combination of the things he heard her say, and information he’d retrieved from the technical devices she had in her satchel. Between that and the implant I’d inserted at the base of her skull, we should have no problem communicating. Thank goodness I’d thought to scavenge some from the crash site when we landed here. Still, the lagging translation provides me with just enough excuse to pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“I suppose you expect me to thank you for cleaning my clothes. Even though it meant you had to take them off of me first.” She shoots me a glare. “Nice excuse to get me naked. You know in my world, men don’t just strip women of their clothes.”

“You were cold.” I say going for practicality. “Your body temperature was dropping. I needed to get you clean and warm as quickly as possible. Since you were unconscious, the only way for me to do that was for me to undress you. I also was scanning you for any possible injuries in case you required medical attention.”

Did I enjoy seeing her naked body? Yes. Naturally. But I certainly hadn’t enjoyed the circumstances. When I had reached the item she called a bra, I’d been horrified. The skin beneath her fabric was chafed red. The binding clearly too tight. Naturally, I had destroyed the offensive item.

As for her panties, those I had not been able to resist keeping for myself. They bore her most intimate scent. I couldn’t bring myself to wash them. Nor can I now bring myself to return them to her.