Submission Games, page 9
part #0 of Krinar World Series
“Thank you,” Jo breathes, gathering the still weepy Gavin into her arms. Brett puts his arms around them both, his face relieved, but his stance protective. “Thank you so much.”
“What are you doing here?” Dad asks the K, not a bit of gratitude in his harsh voice. “How did you know his name? Are you watching us? Why were you—”
Navur simply turns to look at me, where I’m still frozen on the periphery of the group. My family follows suit, until they’re all staring at me, realization slowly dawning over their faces. It’s everything that I was afraid of and more. The shock, the hurt, the shame, the disappointment…
I turn to the side and hurl my whole lunch into the grass.
We don’t sleep that night.
Mom cries, Daddy yells, and I resist the urge to flee into the rising sun. At first, I’d been glad when Navur let me leave with my family, instead of whisking me away once and for all, but now I would much rather be locked in his safe embrace than stuck in this powder keg.
“You’re endangering your whole family,” Dad says gruffly, possibly for the fourth time in an hour. Baby whines at the violence in his tone, cowering nervously in the doorway. “Did you think about that for even a moment? What about your mother? Your pregnant sister? Little Gavin? What if that creature had attacked your nephew?”
I don’t point out that “that creature” actually saved my nephew’s life. I tried that the first time, with less than great results.
“Is it something we did wrong?” Mom sobs, blowing her nose loudly into a tissue. That box will be empty any second now. “We let you go to school in New York. We should have tried harder to get you to go to Marshall with Jo. She married Brett, she’s fine!”
I want to protest that I’m also fine, but at this point, even I don’t know if that’s true or not. I rub my temples, wondering if it would be rude for me to get up and make some coffee. They probably wouldn’t even notice that the target of their unraveling is missing. It’s not like they’ve acknowledged my physical presence much at all during this conversation.
My phone buzzes quietly in the back pocket of my jeans. Probably Jo. It’s not like her to be up this late these days, but it certainly hasn’t been a normal day. I hope all the excitement didn’t upset the baby too much. If I ever manage to escape this hell, I have a lot of explaining to do with her. She’s going to be really hurt that I hadn’t told her about this, not to mention super judgy about the whole thing.
“Is it an addiction problem?” Dad is asking, leaning over the table and grabbing my hands very seriously. “I heard on the news that’s how they hook young women, with the addictive properties of their bite. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. We can get you help. There’s a facility, down in Miami—”
“I’m not addicted,” I snap, perhaps too harshly considering his concerned intentions. “And I am fine. Better than fine. In fact, I’m…”
This is the tricky part, the part that gets stuck in my throat. I can’t tell my parents the truth, obviously. Essentially whoring myself out in an attempt to keep the town safe is probably not that much better than bite addiction. No, if I want even a chance of not being my parents’ cause of death, I have to convince them this is a love story. And maybe, on the day we had Krinar mushroom sushi, I could have even convinced myself. But that was a fairy tale fluke, and after the night we ran into Robbie, I’ve been firmly slammed back into reality. This is not a love story, this is the cautionary tale they’re so terrified of. I can’t let them know that their worst fears have come true.
“I’m in love,” I manage, my voice cracking a little on the last syllable. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m in love with him. Navur. I know it’s not what you wanted, but I can’t help how I feel. I tried to fight it, I swear. But, he’s just so kind and generous to me, and you saw how he helped Gavin yesterday. I know it’s not typical around here, but it’s really not as dangerous as you think it is. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I knew you would freak out. But I promise, I’m being safe, and I’m… I’m happy with him.”
I find myself blinking back tears by the end of my little outburst. Fuck, I almost believe my lies myself. I can only hope it does the trick for my parents.
“You’re in love?” my mother repeats, nearly spitting out the last word. “With a K? Honey, maybe it feels that way to you, but you’re young, you don’t even know what love is yet.”
“Mom, I’m nearing thirty,” I reply dryly, exhausted in every sense. “I’m not a child anymore.”
“Why was he in the park? Was he watching you?” Dad jumps in, the earlier gentleness gone. “Is that what they call love? Stalking innocent young women?”
“He just… He just likes to make sure I’m safe.”
An unfamiliar warmth plucks at my heart. Maybe that is love, to a man like Nav. The possessiveness, the control, the overprotectiveness. The things that scare me, that terrify my parents, might not be so bad, sweet even, when viewed through rose colored glasses. Maybe Navur really does want to know I’m safe, to do what he thinks is best for me, to provide every little thing I want or need.
Or maybe he simply wants to own me, to ensure my body is available for his pleasure at any given moment, to leverage my natural fear of such a predator into an easy lay for himself.
My eyes burn, with emotion, exhaustion, or both. I can’t do this any longer. Any of this. I’m losing my fucking mind, one day at a time.
“I really need to sleep now,” I say, pushing my chair back slowly. “If we really have to, we can keep talking tomorrow. Or later. Whatever.”
I barely make it onto my bed before my eyes slam shut, and restless sleep overtakes me.
When I wake up, my phone says it’s nearly 2pm. It’s also nearly dying—I haven’t charged it since the night before last. I plug it in, rub my eyes, and make myself call my sister.
She picks up halfway into the first ring.
“Holy fuck,” she hisses into the phone, her whisper so emotive it’s almost louder than if she were just speaking at a normal volume. “Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck!”
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice low too. It’s like being a teenager again, whispering secrets over the phone and tiptoeing around because my parents are mad at me over some boy they don’t like. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but, you know.”
“How long?” Jo asks, ignoring my apology. “I thought you had just broken up with that guy, Robbie. I know you had your issues with him, but at least he was human.”
I take a deep breath, and launch into the same half-lie I tried to sell our parents earlier. She prods a bit further, wanting to know what Mom and Dad said, how I met Navur, and what the sex is like. I tell her the truth about the first, a modified version of the second, and squeal at her to shut up about the latter. Thankfully, Gavin needs her for something, so the conversation ends before it can get too rough.
Gathering up all my courage, I pull on a fresh t-shirt and head downstairs. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, murmuring quietly over fresh coffee. When they see me approaching, they shut up, and Mom pours me a mug. I accept it with a soft smile, hoping this is a gesture of goodwill, and not a bribe meant to soften the blow of them telling me I’m about to be carted off to a convent.
“If what you say is true,” Mom says, tone bizarrely uptight and professional for our little kitchen. “Then we want to meet this… man for ourselves. Invite him over for dinner tonight, I’ll whip something up.”
I nearly drop my coffee mug. In my sleep-deprived haze last night (slash this morning), it never occurred to me that if I told my parents that Navur is my boyfriend, they’d want to meet him. Shit. Maybe I should’ve just let them believe that I’m trapped in this affair against my will, just another dumb blonde whisked off her feet by washboard abs and a vampire fetish. Navur will be gone soon enough anyway. I went too big with my lie, and now I’m stuck in it.
“Um, that’s really short notice, I don’t know if—”
“Noelle,” Dad says simply, in that no-nonsense voice that still makes me stand up straighter.
“Okay,” I cave weakly. “I’ll call him.”
Of course, Navur is ecstatic at the invitation. I don’t think he cares that this is my worst nightmare, or that my family will be out for blood. He just wants to insert himself into every little nook and cranny of my life.
My stomach in knots, I offer to help Mom with dinner, but she shoos me off. That’s how I wind up spending the afternoon on the couch, curled up with Baby, staring blankly at reruns on TV and wondering how I ended up here, and how much worse my life can possibly get at this point.
“Aren’t you going to change?” Mom asks, when she finds me still slouching in sweats twenty minutes before Nav is supposed to arrive.
“Oh,” I say blandly, looking down at my rumpled outfit. I’m so miserable, I don’t really give a shit about what I’ll be wearing at this haranguing, but I obey, and change into clean jeans and a nice-ish top.
Navur arrives promptly, as expected. He’s holding a giant bouquet of petunias, which I reach for instinctively as he gives me a chaste peck on the cheek.
“Tsk, tsk,” the K chastises, pulling the flowers back out of my reach. “These are for your mother.”
I swallow hard. Leave it to Nav to be the perfect beau, even when he’s not my beau, even when we’re walking into a trap. I wouldn’t be half surprised if Daddy pulled out his shotgun and put a round in the K before we even enter the dining room. Luckily, my mother appears in the foyer behind me before I have a chance to spiral too deep.
“Mrs. Keene,” Navur booms, grinning widely. “I’m Navur, so lovely to meet you under happier circumstances.”
He hands Mom the bouquet, and Mom accepts, her cheeks pinking slightly. Does she find Navur attractive? I mean, of course she does, she’s not blind, but gross.
“Navur,” Mom repeats cautiously, in a friendlier tone than I would have expected. Maybe it’s not a bad thing that she finds my K to be a total smokeshow. “Call me Amelia.”
“Mr. Keene is fine by me,” Dad says gruffly, turning the corner and curling a possessive arm around my mother’s shoulders.
“Mr. Keene,” Navur nods respectfully, reaching out for a handshake. There’s a too-long pause when I’m sure Dad will refuse the gesture, whipping out the shotgun instead, but finally, my father reaches out his hand. I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding as the two men awkwardly shake hands.
“Let me get these in water,” Mom chirps, deep in polite company mode even now. “Noelle, take Navur to the dining room, I’ll have dinner out in a second.”
I obey, motioning for Navur to sit in the chair that used to be Jo’s, while I take my usual seat, and Dad takes his at the head of the table. As promised, Mom putters out with dinner just moments later, some kind of vegetable stew. Vegan cooking is not Mom’s forte, since she’s hardly ever had to, even post K-Day, but this particular concoction smells pretty good. I reach for the ladle, but Daddy clears his throat.
“Let’s say grace,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. I frown. We never say grace before our meals. Hell, we don’t even go to church, other than Christmas and Easter. I glance at Navur, who is respectfully bowing his head. Is this some kind of test? Is my father purposefully trying to alienate my K, push at buttons until something snaps?
The answer, of course, is yes. For the first twenty minutes of our dinner, Dad grills Navur relentlessly, despite Mom’s polite efforts to redirect the conversation, and my not-so-polite efforts. Navur takes it like a champ, and I wonder for a moment how many concerned human parents he’s had to woo over the years. Probably not many, I assure myself, trying to tamp down an unfamiliar fire that rises in me at the thought of Navur in another girl’s bed. After all, he said this was his first trip to Earth, and he hasn’t been here long. Not that I should care either way.
“Mr. Keene,” Nav says at last, after it becomes clear the interrogation will not be ending anytime soon. “I know this is unfamiliar territory, and that you’ve probably heard nothing but horror stories about my people. I understand your apprehension. But I promise you that I can treat your daughter better than anyone else on this planet. I would never do anything to hurt Noelle, sir.”
I wonder if this is the first time in history that a K has used the word sir. Nav must have really done his research on how to charm a country girl’s father. He takes my hand in his delicately, and offers me a gentle smile. I can’t help but smile back, blushing a bit as I glance at my parents. My mother is grinning back at us, clearly won over by Navur’s act (and face). Daddy’s expression is still stoic, but he looks slightly less like he’s about to grab a pitchfork.
Dinner continues in a slightly friendlier fashion, with Navur explaining his work as a botanist on Krina, and asking polite questions about Dad’s time in the mines, and begging Mom for embarrassing stories from my childhood. I watch it all happen like I’m merely a spectator of my own life. It’s the same way I felt in my nightmares of this moment, but what’s unfolding isn’t a disaster, not really. In fact, I can’t help but keep replaying Nav’s little speech. It’s not unlike the moment I used to fantasize about, when a handsome young man would finally ask my Daddy for my hand in marriage. Except in those fantasies, the man was human and not a bajillion-year-old alien, and when he promised to never hurt me, he meant it for real, with no asterisk that clarified “unless it will make her come, of course.”
I blush at the warmth both in my heart and between my legs, focusing on Mom’s dessert, a fruit salad. This is all a huge waste of time, I remind myself. This isn’t a proposal, it’s an act. In a matter of days, I’ll be rid of my tormentor forever, and that’s something I should be happy about.
So why does the thought of losing Navur hurt so badly?
I stay with my parents that night. I can tell Navur wants to take me back to his hotel, but it’s clear that the peace made with my parents is fragile at best. I wonder why Navur cares. He can do whatever he wants with me, with any of us, after all. Still, I’m grateful when he merely gives me a chaste kiss goodnight after dinner, promising to call me the next day.
I crawl out of bed the next morning wearily, after a long night of tossing and turning. Even though the much dreaded parent-alien dinner went about as well as it could have, I’m still plagued by worries. What if my parents remain unconvinced and out for blood, and rile up a mob to take down Navur? What if Navur changes his mind about wanting to play nice with my minefield of a family, and knocks them out of the way? Not to mention, what about me? What happens in a week, when Navur is gone, and I’m left picking up the pieces of my lie? Picking up the pieces of myself? As much as I hate to admit it, it’s clearer now than ever that it will be no easy chore learning how to live without my antagonizer. He’s molded me into his little monster, and I can’t even sleep without him. I crave his touch, crave his gentle kisses, crave his violent games. How do I go back to human boys who still can’t figure out where the G-spot is?
I pull a worn hoodie on over my sleep shirt and head downstairs. A cup of coffee will bring me back to my senses. I’m pouring some Folgers into the machine when I hear a knock on the front door.
“Good morning, little one,” Navur says when I open the door, startling me with his presence. He gives me a quick kiss, this one a little more teasing, more promising than the one last night. “You know, I do love seeing you in the morning, but I prefer when all I have to do is roll over in bed.”
I blush. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up a paper sack and a carrier with four paper cups, and I instantly recognize the logo from the coffee shop on Broad. “I figured if we couldn’t have breakfast in bed, next best thing.”
“Breakfast out of bed with my parents?” I ask dryly, and Navur shrugs. “Come on in, I guess.”
He sets his offering down on the kitchen counter, and I take my latte and pluck a muffin out of the bag. After a few minutes, Mom shuffles in, wrapped up tightly in her robe, and turns crimson when she finds the K waiting. At least now I know where I got my chronic blushing problem from.
“Oh,” she says, freezing in place, the confusion on her face nearly comical. “What… Um…”
“Navur brought us breakfast,” I help out, gesturing to the remaining coffee cups and pastries. “There’s a blueberry bagel in there, your favorite.”
“Oh, how nice,” Mom manages, taking a coffee and fiddling with it nervously. “Thank you, Navur.”
“Navur,” I correct her when she hits the accent wrong.
“Navur,” Mom repeats, still managing to fumble the word in her mouth.
As if the scene wasn’t awkward enough, Dad struts in like an image straight out of my worst nightmares. He’s dressed in his hunting clothes, and has his shotgun slung over his shoulder. Fuck. Today is Saturday, hunting day. Dad usually leaves before dawn, but he must be running late today.
“Amelia, where’s my…” Dad trails off when he sees us all standing uncomfortably around the kitchen. “Oh. Noelle, what is he doing here?”
“He just got here,” I clarify quickly, lest Daddy think I’ve been sneaking boys in at night. “He brought us coffee and pastries. Do you want a donut before you go? He brought old fashioned, your favorite.”
As Dad reluctantly takes his donut, I frown at Navur, struck by a sudden thought. How the hell did he know both my parents’ favorite morning treats?
“Good morning, Mr. Keene,” Nav says, ignoring my look. He nods at the gun pointedly. “Got plans for today?”
