Her Brutal Alien (Alien Overlords)

“I'm sorry if it is terrible,” I say, immediately apologizing. "You don’t have to eat it if you don't like it. I’m so sorry…”

His big, clawed hand reaches out over mine.

“I am not the fool you married," he reminds me. “You worked very hard on this food. Even if I were not to enjoy it, you would not have to apologize for it. Do you understand?"

I feel tears pricking at my eyes. I try to hold them back, thinking them silly and childish, but the more his words sink in, the harder it is to keep my composure. Before I know what is happening, a tear is tracing down my cheek.

“Why are you crying, Margaret?”

"Because you’re so nice!” I wail the words.

He sighs and wraps me in his arms. "I am not nice,” he rumbles against my cheek. But he’s wrong. He is nice. In so many ways he is the most genuine and kind male creature I have ever encountered.

Holding me in one arm, he takes a fork full of the pie, puts it into his great sharp maw, and chews it very carefully.

“This is very good," he declares.

“It is?”

He takes another forkful and this time, presents it to me. “Taste your work,” he growls softly.

I tasted it as I was making it of course, but that bite is more delicious than any of the others I sneaked before because it comes wrapped in Tusk’s arms and with the glow of his approval.

"It is good," I say.

"It is," he agrees. “Take a second plate and sit beside me, Margaret. I will fetch a bottle of our finest fermented fruit. Humans are fond of such beverages, I believe.”

I don't drink much, but I will not turn down Tusk’s hospitality. In very short order I find myself seated at his table, eating the meal I prepared for us, and drinking a delicious wine made from fruits I do not recognize. The closest flavor I could compare it to would be strawberry and orange with a spice complexity that makes it match the pie quite well.

"This might be the best meal I've ever eaten,” I say as we finish the meal. Tusk has consumed the entire dish, and now I am concerned I did not make enough for him.

“It was very good," he says, offering praise which makes me glow. Mark never said anything was very good. It was either bad or adequate. I do not miss him anymore. For a short while I grieved him, but every moment since has proved that I am markedly better off even with an alien beast who wants to punish me.

“Who is the human with Rath?” I ask the question with natural curiosity. She is the only other human I have seen on this planet, and I am wondering how she came to be his.

"That is Lyric. She is the human Rath lost his heart, and then his eyes to," he says, explaining without explaining at all. “She wants a baby. It distracts her. And in turn, it distracts him.”

“Who doesn’t?” My response seems to surprise him. “Mark always held a baby over my head. It was the one thing he could deny me, the one thing that made me separate from all the happily married wives. He guarded his sperm so jealously. But he would have been so angry to know I was taking birth control too.”

"You were? Why would you block your own fertility?”

"Some men are not made to be fathers. Some men can only ever hurt the ones they think they love.”

“So, he did not want you to be a mother, and you did not want him to be a father.”

"We were perfectly dysfunctional." I smile without humor. There was nothing perfect about Mark and me. We were a pedestrian horror, as so many couples are. I wonder to this day how many cozy home scenes hide unfathomable pain. How many smiling family photos feature tedious monsters. I think that might have been the worst side of Mark. It wasn't just that he was petty and cruel. It was that he was also so incredibly boring.

“Hm,” Tusk growls. He takes a long draw on his drink. I wonder what he thinks of these revelations. I have been weak in his eyes from the beginning. My desire to have a baby is probably incomprehensible, or at the very least, inconsequential to him.

“The likelihood of my impregnating you is infinitesimal,” he says after a long consideration.

“That’s alright. I have given up on the idea. Besides, my previous home had excellent schools and a very well-respected college nearby. There were playgrounds and churches and all the facilities necessary for raising a son or a daughter. Whereas here I am the captive whipping girl of a powerful ancient warrior, and I haven't seen a single playground.”

“You consider me a powerful ancient warrior?”