The General - S01 E18

6 months ago

The General - S01 E18

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 18

I close my dried lips and look around the tent. It's huge, just like its owner.

There are two pillars in the middle, armors and weapons stacked all over the place.

This is the definition of a man cave.

The furs I'm sitting on are pristine white from the coat of an animal only a man like The General could hunt. It's so clean that I stand up, not wanting to stain it.

Across from me is an enormous tub that can fit two people. That's where The General bathes. Naked, wet, with his huge thighs poking out of the water.

I'm out of place here. There are no holes in the roof, no discolored patches. This is the home of a warrior who has dedicated their life for the planet. The General deserves these luxuries, not me.

My hand combs down my hair; the same hair that Tantri pulled until The General sawed his hand off.

I shudder at the reminder of the meaty thud I heard when his hand hit the ground. My hair feels heavier than ever.

Reluctantly, I step toward the exit. I don't think The General will bend on having me around, no matter how much I bicker and beg. He's convinced that I'm crippled.

Gossip in camp is louder than ever. The ceremony the Entertainers had been practicing for was canceled thanks to the commotion, and they're not happy about it. The pretty ladies in their see-through dresses that display their nipples stare at me with ugly looks.

No one approaches me, though. I guess they want to keep both of their hands.

I pack some clothes, book, toothbrush, thin bone comb, and the medicine The Healer gave me. It feels like I'm doing the walk of shame as I return to The General's tent.

He's standing there, arms crossed over his enormous chest that's now bare, legs spread a foot open. I feel like a schoolgirl on the way to the principal's office, only that the principal is broader and taller than the school building.

"Come," The General says as he holds the flap wider for me. "It is going to storm. I don't want you in the rain."

I hug my bag tighter and enter. With another wary look at the furs, I sit on his work chair. It's huge — designed for a man his size, but it's better than his bed.

I advert my eyes from the military maps and important documents on the table and call out, "General?"

"Yes?" he asks, kicking off his boots.

"Where will I sleep?"

His fingers freeze over the ties at his pants. "Are the furs not to your liking? I can have them swapped for softer ones. I know your skin is far more sensitive than mine."

My eyes nervously flicker from the hands at his groin to his eyes. "Uh..."

"I am only bathing. I will not touch you."

I shake my head. "Right. Well, I don't need new furs. Can I have my corner?"

He looks bewildered by the request, glancing at his chest and then at me. "It will not be uncomfortable to lie beside me. My chest is not rock hard."

Oh, moons, he wants me to lie on him. The General wants to cuddle.

"Please. I just want some space."

He scowls. "Very well. Take my bedroll."

His fingers work his pants faster, so I look away. There's the sound of clothes ruffling, and then a loud splash as he sinks into the tub. Two hundred pounds of naked alien male flesh is basking in warm water. Any female would ogle, but I'm not any female.

"You are welcome to join me."

I shake my head. "Nope. No, thank you."

He chuckles, the sound bouncing off the thick slabs of armor and weapons he has in here.

"Well, um, I'm going to bed then. Thank you." I get off my seat and inch toward the bed. In my desperate attempt to avoid looking in his direction, I trip like an idiot and land on all fours.

I hear a splash again. That damned splash.

"Let me help you."

"No. No. No. I'm okay!"

He takes my bicep and heaves me up, making me flatten my palms on his very wide, soaked chest to stabilize myself.

"Thank you," I yelp and rip myself away.

How am I going to sleep in here with this man?

After I lie on the furs in my dirty clothes, I turn my back to The General and stare at the wall. He shifts around as he dresses.

"I will be out all night. Get rest. No one will enter."

"You won't sleep?"

"Masters can go on for three nights without sleep and function fine."

"Oh."

He walks out, leaving me to warm his bed. I lie like dead weight, but only get one hour of rest.

I jolt up when I hear footsteps and prepare to run when I smell the flowery perfume the Entertainers use. Two enter, holding three huge trays with warm food. They set them on the table and walk off while scowling at the ground.

"The General ordered you to eat," the oldest one spits.

I'm sure he did. There is a protective nature to him, but he is not the softest with words.

"Than—" I don't get to thank the women, because they leave.

I carefully shift the paperwork on the table and eat quickly, afraid the warm food will be taken away. When I realize I'm going to get sick, I force myself to slow down.

I'm sitting on the chair, bored but grateful to be full, when The General returns. He throws a satchel aside and adjusts his weapons belt.

"Did you eat?"

I dip my chin.

"Good."

"Is there anything I can do around here? I'm a little bored."

"No working. Just rest. You may bathe if you wish."

I look at the empty tub he submerges that great body of his into. I think I would catch fire if I sat in that tub, too.

"I'll just wait here, I guess."

He leaves and returns three more times throughout the day, always pretending like he forgot something like paperwork or a fiftieth knife. I know he's not a forgetful person, though. He's simply looking for excuses to check up on me.

That night, I sleep alone again. The General walks into the night and doesn't return until the morning. I rot in boredom for two complete days, wishing there was something I could do other than walk outside and be glared at by everyone.

I'm brushing my hair for the thousandth time when The General returns.

"You have long hair."

I nod and bring the comb down my dark hair again.

He clears his throat and fusses with a sharp knife, slipping it between his fingers in a fast and dangerous motion. "Baldness is in style now."

I frown, because I know The General doesn't give a single care about women's hairstyles.

"It would look nice on you," he suggests.

"I don't know... I like my hair. I would not want to cut it off."

He huffs, bothered by my response, although I don't know why. I don't think I said anything offensive.

"Do what you must, then." He picks up a scroll and glares at it.

What's with him today? Hairstyles, really? This guy decapitates people, not braid their hair.

I remember a chapter in my book that discussed culture and hair. Now curious, I flip until I find it. I still struggle with the language, so I take a while to put together the words.

'Baldness in particular sets of females means they are searching for a husband.'

Oh. I touch my hair. Is that what he's suggesting? He wants me to cut my hair to show the world I'm searching for a mate, so he can fill the roll?

I giggle. How ridiculous. The General wouldn't settle down with someone like me.

After snapping my book close, I continue to brush my hair.