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believe Betty needed a male, and since Betty didn’t want him— grrr —then it was up to him to find her a compatible male. And kill him.
    No. No. That wasn’t a heroic thought. He would find her a male to satisfy her needs— and kill him.
    Hmm. It seemed he’d have to work on suppressing some of his more base mercenary traits. For some reason they wanted to crop up every time he thought of pairing Betty with someone— who will die if he so much as touches her.
    Ignoring his irrational jealousy, he focused on a more important question. Where could he find a compatible male? Humans weren’t exactly prolific in the acceptable parts of the galaxy, and he wasn’t about to break the rules and enter the forbidden zone where Earth was located.
    Only one place to go.
    “We need to visit the Obsidian Galaxy, more specifically, their black market,” he announced when Zista and Betty joined him a while later for a meal in the dining area.
    “First off, what’s the Obsidian Galaxy, and why do we need to go there?” asked Betty as she frowned at his food processor. She jabbed a combination of buttons and grimaced at what came out.
    As she dumped it in the waste receptacle and pounded the keyboard again—looking deliciously refreshed with her damp hair forming a spiky mop and her casual attire clinging to seductive curves—he explained his reasoning. “You require riches and resources to bring back to the Zonian planet. While I have some items, I’m sure not all of them will satisfy your list. Given humans are a rarity, and probably have specialized needs—”
    “Like food that doesn’t look like it would kill me,” she muttered, disposing of yet another dish.
    “—our best bet to locate such items is in the forbidden galaxy and market.”
    “In other words, we’re going to get ourselves some smuggled goods. A sound plan.” Zista nodded her approval.
    “Who is paying for it?” Betty asked, pausing in her attempts to find food to fix him with a suspicious glance.
    “I shall of course. As I mentioned before, I have the riches, and they are moldering in my cargo holds.”
    “And you’re just going to use them to help us?”
    “Yes.” Heroic altruism? Check.
    Zista shrugged a stunted wing. “Works for me.” She shoved Betty aside as she clawed an entry. Satisfied with what popped out, she took her steaming, and wiggling, dish to a seat and settled her feathers to eat.
    Betty glared at her friend then the food processor. Dyre moved closer to help her, close enough he could smell the freshness of her skin, a skin that looked dewy still from bathing and whose moist appearance made him yearn to take a lick.
    Were humans edible? He’d come across videos in his research on her kind that showed males feasting on their sex, a most delicate pink portion of their anatomy, with great relish while the female moaned in enjoyment. I wouldn’t mind tasting her delicacy. His cock twitched in agreement.
    “Are you enjoying breathing down my neck, or were you planning to help me with this stupid machine?” she said in a breathy voice, interrupting his interesting train of thought.
    “Help you, of course. I took the liberty of researching your dietary needs while you rested and had the computer program some of them in.”
    Holding her hand and guiding it to the various buttons wasn’t necessary, but he enjoyed it, and thus felt the shiver that went through her when their skin touched. Was she cold? He knew of many ways to warm her up, although sticking her in a hot engine room held less appeal than the human method, which claimed the best way to heat an Earthling without causing shock was skin to skin. Barbarian they might be, but they certainly have interesting ideas.
    “This should create an Earthly favorite called p-i-z-z-a,” he said, stumbling over the strange combination of letters.
    He didn’t move away as the machine whirred, couldn’t, especially when she squealed, “Oh my god, you finally did something