He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering at the sudden change in temperature and steeling himself to resist the temptation of staring at his warm, naked Queen. He ran a paw through his mane and winced at how wildly tangled it was.
With a groan and an aching, heavy exhaustion in his legs, he retrieved the comm from where it had fallen along with his trousers, somewhere southeast of the bed. “Oh. It’s Farhet. I’ll go next door to take this.”
“Put on some clothes!” Sasha hissed.
Gideon dragged on his pants and hurried out of her quarters with a longing look and heavy sigh. “Good afternoon, sir,” he answered the comm as it seemed about to explode with impatience.
Farhet’s usually polished, clipped voice was impatient. “You still work for me, Gideon. I expect calls to be answered in a timely manner.”
“There is a time difference, sir, and I’m still shrugging off the effects of hypersleep. Would you like to talk to the medical officer about this?”
Farhet seemed taken aback. While Gideon had kept his viewing screen off, he could see his employer’s nonplussed expression. He was used to answers of “yes, sir” and “no, sir,” always delivered with a polite, faintly contrite air, as if Gideon should apologize for existing.
Gideon knew that, and he also knew a large part of it was delivered by his own desires to simply appease Farhet and move him along so that he could actually manage the estate and get through the mountain of tasks his employer expected him to attend to. He couldn’t help but wonder how Farhet and the rest of the household were coping without him.
“No, don’t bother the doctor. Stupid, human-loving radical. How are you dealing with the human Queen?”
“Miss Cordovair is a delightful companion, and I enjoy my time with her.”
A sliver of something genuine shone through Farhet’s usually composed face. “Oh, you’re a braver Leonid than many, Gideon. When will you know if things have, er, worked? They can tell very early, can’t they? I would expect another day or two, yes? So, once you know, I want you to let me know, and I’ll reprogram the—”
“Sir. Pardon my interrupting, but it will not be this cycle, I’m almost certain. She’s not even in the right ‘window’ of her cyclejust yet, and only had the first compatibility booster yesterday. It will take time to work in her system. Even if we do, ah, spend some productive time together, which we may not, not all couples conceive instantly. There’s also a matter of her size.”
“Small, weak thing.”
“Delicate. Beautiful. Willing to take a risk to bear our children, yes?” Only as he said the words, Gideon’s insides shriveled. Not our children. My child. My cub. Farhet has no part in this, honestly.
How can I let Sasha’s cub—my and Sasha’s cub—go live with Farhet?
You know he’d be adored. Spoiled beyond words. The only child or grandchild of this generation in a wealthy family. No one would be more loved or have more opportunities.
Gideon’s reverie was cut short by a startled snarl from Farhet. “Wait, did you say she received the shot yesterday? And she’ll be ‘in heat’ soon? Why is there a question of you trying? Is that little bitch putting up excuses to bilk me for more cycles?”
The growl of warning shut Farhet’s mouth, but instead of taking the hint, his confusion turned to indignation. “Did you just snarl at me for questioning the human’s motives, Gideon?” Farhet asked in a voice of barely controlled rage.
“Yes.” Gideon’s voice was soft but unbreakable, an invisible wire that Farhet was slowly, unknowingly, looping around his throat. “You will not call the human Queen a ‘bitch’ or any other insulting name. She is kind, and good, and full of life. She is willing to take immeasurable risks to her mental and physical health to bear a child for a stranger, because she believes in the good it will do. Surrogacy is a noble, honorable profession. And in the old days of Earth and Sapien-One, surrogacy was accomplished with medical assistance, not by forcing women to sleep with partners twice their size and risk injuring them if proper care isn’t taken.”
“But... Oh, Gideon, that’s a lot of human propaganda. Human Queens give birth to eight- and nine-pound babies far bigger than a Leonid male’s crowning glory, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Gideon was glad the viewing option was off on his edge, because he made a blatantly disgusted face at the euphemism and the callous comparison before it. “Sir. Have you ever witnessed a human Queen, or even a Felid Queen, giving birth? Laboring?”
“In media, of course. There are always scenes of Queens being rushed to the hospitals in big dramas, and then the camera suddenly shows a cub of several weeks of age.” Farhet scoffed. “Of course, everyone has seen Felid Queens on screens. Not humans, though.”
“There’s screaming. Cursing. Writhing in agony. Medications have to be administered. Sometimes surgical incisions must be made—and that’s on strong, healthy Queens. The same is true for human Queens. If you are comparing sexual acts to delivering a child, I fear you need more education.”
“And I fear you need to remember your place! That slog through hypersleep and a hyperjump must have rattled your brains loose, boy!” Farhet roared. “I am the one who attended the finest academies. I am the one with more degrees and certifications to my name than you have obscene white spots on your coat! You will not lecture me, or I will yank your contract so quickly that you will be creditless and sued for breach of contract!”
Gideon took several calming breaths before speaking. “If you wish to pressure me to proceed and harm the female with impatience, she won’t be able to carry a cub, and I will not be found guilty of breach of contract. Dr. Marcus will attest that I behaved in the best interest of my partner, as will she. But what will happen to you? Will you be allowed back in this program?No. And will you be allowed to use a substitute again? No. That’s been made clear to me and to Miss Cordovair.”
Farhet’s mouth opened and shut a few times, a stunned, stricken expression on his face. Gideon could tell he wasn’t used to being addressed in such a fashion, and truly, he was not used to attempting such a thing with anyone, let alone one of the most powerful Leonids on Leonid-One.
“I was just urging you not to waste time. I’ll be checking in with Dr. Marcus to make sure the human isn’t drawing this out to increase the number of credits.”
“If you knew Miss Cordovair, you wouldn’t worry about such things, sir. And as for my contract? I have read it carefully. It says that for even journeying to theComet Stalkerand acting as your surrogate sperm donor, I am released from your employment and receive three years’ salary. If I am successful at impregnating her, there is more.”
“300,000 credits more!”
Enough to buy that home, that little ranch on Lynx-Nineteen, and grow things. Raise goats. Plant orchards. To walk hand-in-paw with Sasha through a citrine grove, and to make love with her beneath spice apple trees.