by Lizzy Bequin
Vorne had explained that those sexy lumps were mammary glands. Human females actually produced food for their young.
Terramaran females had not had this feature.
Actually, Grekh remembered very little about the females of his species. There was the Listener, of course, but she was different, and very old.
Grekh had still been quite young at the time of the female’s extinction. He remembered his mother, but even in his earliest memories of her, the disease had taken hold—the biological weapon that the humans had crafted.
The young warrior turned his mind away from these dark and painful thoughts.
As Vorne had said, a new day was dawning on this planet, and the radiant sun of that new dawn lay right here in Grekh’s protective arms.
Corrie.
Grekh whispered her name, rolling it on his tongue as if savoring the exotic Earthling sounds.
It was a beautiful name, befitting a beautiful treasure.
His treasure.
His and Vorne’s and Xalleus’s. He would protect her with life, to the last beat of his warrior’s heart. And he would sire many offspring with her. Yes, many offspring.
Corrie stirred in Grekh’s arms. Her wrists twisted in their bindings behind his head.
Grekh regretted the necessity for those ties, but Vorne had insisted. They were necessary to protect the human from herself. To keep her from attempting to escape.
Corrie’s eyelids fluttered. She whined in her sleep, a small frightened sound. Her body shuddered.
She was having a nightmare.
“Koh-ree,” Grekh whispered, pulling her tightly against him. “Koh-ree.”
The little human awoke. Her eyelids fluttered open. She started in Grekh’s arms and gave a frightened gasp. The unfamiliar surroundings had scared her. Grekh held her gently but firmly. He made a shushing sound to calm her, and soon she relaxed into his arms again as she remembered where she was.
She stared into his face. Her eyes flicked upward to his jutting horns.
Yesterday she’d had eyes like brown jewels. Grekh had liked them very much. But now, he liked her new eyes even more. They glowed faintly, rather like his own, only not so bright.
It was a sign that the change had begun in her.
She had been seasoned by their mating.
“Good morning, Corrie,” Grekh said in his own Terramaran tongue. He could not remember the human words for the morning greeting.
Corrie smiled at him, a beautiful smile that seemed to melt his heart.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
Yes, Grekh remembered now. Good morning. Such a simple phrase. He felt stupid for forgetting it. But then, it had been so long since he had studied human communication.
What was more important was that Corrie seemed to have understood his own alien greeting, and that was a good sign. Just like the glow in her eyes, it indicated that the mating bond had taken hold. Soon they would be able to share minds like proper mates.
Grekh was eager to test it.
But a complete sharing of minds required touch. Intimate touch. He would need to be inside her for it to work. Deep, deep inside her.
Fortunately, Grekh was ready for that.
He had been ready all night long, in fact.
Corrie let out a surprised squeal when she felt Grekh’s hard member pressing against her belly. She glanced down at it with a worried look.
Gods, his cock was so hard now that it actually hurt. His balls ached with desire. It had been hours since he had last released his seed inside the female. Hours. It seemed like an eternity, however, and Grekh felt as though he couldn’t wait another second to fill her sweet cunt to the brim once more.
He knew, however, that he must wait.
The female needed time to rest.
She had been fucked so many times last night by him and his comrades, and he knew the tiny human must still be exhausted from the prolonged mating. She was a fragile creature, and Grekh did not want to break her. She was far, far too valuable for that.
Besides, Vorne and Xalleus were already rising, and he knew that his brother was eager to set out early this morning.
They would return to the holy city of Ashlar.
They would take Corrie to see the Listener.
“Come, little one,” he said lifting her arms from around his neck. “I will clean you before we depart.”
Again, he spoke in his own native tongue. He was doubtful that Corrie understood every detail, yet he sensed that she got the gist. The look of concern departed from her face, replaced by one of annoyance.
“Grekh,” she muttered sleepily. “Can I please take these off?”
She had raised her bound wrists before him.
“Please?“
Grekh glanced across the grotto at Vorne, who stood now in the faint glow of the bioluminescent fungi, fastening his leather loincloth. The bearded warrior nodded in assent.
Taking Corrie’s wrists in his much bigger hands, Grekh skinned his fangs and used the point of one overdeveloped canine to cut the tendril binding Corrie’s hands. The fiber fell to the cavern’s stone floor. The human rubbed her wrists, happy to be freed. Grekh sensed his brother’s sharp eyes focused on the female, lest she attempt to flee.
Corrie, however, did no such thing. She knew she was safe with Grekh and his comrades.
Grekh rose and helped Corrie up. He took her hand and led her to one of the natural doorways branching off from the main grotto.
“I’m going to clean the human,” he said to Vorne and Xalleus.
Vorne nodded again.
“Go easy on her. She still needs to rest. Humans are a frail species.”
Grekh returned his brother’s nod. As much as he would like to, he had no plans of fucking the human now. He understood that she still needed to recover after the previous night’s frenzy.
There would be plenty of time for mating later.
He led her down the echoing corridor, and she followed him obediently. The fungi and lichen grew more sparsely here, and so the light was dimmer. The naked female stuck closely to Grekh’s body for protection.
After a short walk, they came to an underground river with a trickling waterfall. The water was pleasantly warm, heated by underground magma. While the female let the water sluice over her curves, Grekh searched the walls until he found the particular species of mushroom he was looking for, then he joined Corrie in the water.
The human was still apprehensive of him, but she watched with fascination as Grekh crushed the mushroom, rubbed it between his palms, then wet the matter to create a fragrant, soapy lather.
He began to wash her. She flinched from his touch at first, but soon, as Grekh began to work the suds into her short hair, firmly massaging her scalp, she loosened up and leaned back into him, moaning lightly with enjoyment.
She gasped when she felt his erect cock prodding her, and Grekh smirked.
“Don’t worry, little thing,” he said. “I’m under orders to allow your body to rest and recover.”
Corrie looked at him quizzically. The bond was still nascent, and she could not understand his words.
No matter. The bond would surely strengthen in time. Especially with further matings.
Grekh scrubbed the lather over Corrie’s slippery skin, massaging her firm breasts and smoothing over her belly and plump sexy butt. He was thorough in his cleaning, making sure to get inside every crevice and recess.
As he scrubbed between her legs, he brushed that nub at the top of her slit, which was now as springy and erect as her two nipples.
Corrie moaned at that touch, and the sound excited Grekh.
He held her close, her soft butt planted against his firm, throbbing cock, and he rubbed her nubbin again, swirling and strumming that tender pearl of flesh. She tossed her wet head back against his muscled chest.
“Good?” he purred at her ear, this time in her human language.
“Yes,” she whined as she writhed into him. “Very good.�
��
Vorne had told him to go easy on the human, but Grekh was pretty sure that his brother was referring to the soft interior of the female’s mating canal. Grekh saw no reason that he could not stimulate this exterior nerve bundle.
Grekh ground her button in rough circles until Corrie was sobbing with pleasure. Her body spasmed in his arms. Cream oozed between her legs. Her small, weak cries of bliss excited Grekh, and he soon found he couldn’t hold out any longer.
Even if he could not mate her now, he would use her for his release.
Grekh spun her, coiling one strong arm around her back. With his other hand, Grekh gripped the head of his cock and ground it against her clitoris like a pestle.
Corrie shuddered and squealed as she came again. Her eyes glowed with dreamy lust.
Grekh erupted. Long ropes of semen spurted from his tip, all the way up Corrie’s belly to her bare breasts. It took nearly a minute before he was finished. Corrie hung limp and panting in his arms.
All that care Grekh had taken in cleansing the female’s body, and it had been ruined in a few seconds of lust.
Vorne’s voice echoed down the corridor from the chambers above, telling them to hurry.
Grekh cursed and splashed the warm water up Corrie’s belly, hastily washing away the mess he had made. It would have to do.
“Follow Grekh,” he said to Corrie in her own tongue. “Grekh show you drashegars.”
“Show me what?” Corrie asked, slowly coming out of her orgasm induced daze.
But Grekh did not know the human word. Perhaps there was no human word. She would simply have to see.
He tugged her hand, leading her back toward the surface.
CHAPTER 19
Corrie stood at the front of the high-tech chariot. She squinted her eyes against the wind, wishing she had a pair of goggles, but at the same time not wanting to look away from the terrifying yet beautiful landscape they were racing through. The black sand basin between two lines of lava streaked mountains seemed like the trough between two waves on a dark and angry sea. Overhead the smoky clouds swirled and swelled like ink dropped in water.
Hot wind ghosted over Corrie’s face and ran through her short hair like invisible fingers, drying the last bit of dampness from her bath. The only sounds were the rushing wind, the steady throb of the levitators beneath her feet—a sound so low it was at the very bottom limit of audibility—and the weird fleshy flappings of the drashegars.
Never in a thousand years could Corrie have imagined that she would find herself in a situation like this.
Vorne was piloting the chariot, which was barely big enough for the two of them. The vehicle was constructed from steel and other alloys. it had once been sleek, but now its surface was pitted and grime-streaked from the harsh atmosphere of Terramara. It operated by levitators that allowed it to float a few feet above the ground. But what was even more interesting was the means by which the chariot was pulled forward.
The drashegars looked like giant manta rays, a good ten feet across and nearly as long. They flew low over the ground, propelled by the undulating motion of their thin, leathery wings. One of the creatures was reined to the chariot Corrie was riding with Vorne while the other pulled the chariot carrying Grekh and Xalleus.
Despite her situation, Corrie could not deny that the experience was thrilling.
Vorne had positioned her at the front of the chariot so that he could stand behind her. His muscled body pressed against her from behind, and his strong arms bracketed her while holding on to the reins to steer the drashegar. The strange creature pulled them forward at an incredible speed.
But Corrie was just as curious about the chariot itself.
From everything she had seen, these Terramarans were primitive, wearing only simple loincloths, if anything at all. The most technologically advanced tool she had seen them use so far was Vorne’s massive blade, which was now fastened in a leather sheath strapped inside the railing of the chariot.
Corrie shuddered as she remembered how cleanly that keen edge had sliced through the two guards who had threatened her.
These two chariots, however, were fairly advanced—almost on the same level as Earth technology, though several decades behind. Perhaps even a century.
Had the Terramarans really built these?
As if sensing her unspoken question, Vorne spoke to her, his voice loud and strong above the wind rushing past Corrie’s ears.
“These chariots were made by your people,” the alien said. “When they first came here, they traded with us on a voluntary basis. The Earthlings gave us technology, and we Terramarans gave them small amounts of our fluid.”
Corrie looked more closely at the other chariot in which Grekh and Xalleus were riding. Yes, now she could see that it was a levitator from a small space craft, altered and repurposed to be a chariot.
Vorne’s story about trading fascinated her. Her journalistic instincts kicked in again, and she found herself interviewing him.
“How long ago was that, Vorne?” She had to yell to make herself heard over the rushing wind. “When your people and the humans had a peaceful arrangement.”
“Long ago,” Vorne answered. “Over one hundred cycles or more.”
“Lunar cycles?”
“Solar.”
Corrie had studied the planetological data about Terramara before she arrived. She knew that a single orbit of the planet around its sun was roughly equivalent to two Earth years. But that didn’t add up. As far as she knew, Juvanis had not been available for nearly that long.
Had the elites of Earth been making use of Terramaran seed before it had become widely available as Juvanis?
Before she had a chance to question further, Vorne gestured ahead of them and spoke again.
“We are here. The holy city of Ashlar.”
Corrie wondered if something was wrong with her eyes. She squinted ahead into the onrushing landscape, but all she could see was more of the same dark, bleak wasteland stretching ahead into the distance.
Was Vorne messing with her?
Then she saw a crack in the ground, a massive gap snaking across their path. It was barely visible thanks to the faint green glow emanating from its depths.
Vorne’s took the reins now in one fist, and his other free arm clamped firmly around Corrie’s naked body, squeezing her against him.
His voice whispered at her ear.
“Hold on. This will be frightening for you, Corrie.”
Frightening? Corrie didn’t know what could possibly frighten her now after the past two days’ adventures. But the way that Vorne was crushing her against his body made it very clear something was coming up. When she glanced downward at the floor of the chariot, she saw that Vorne had tucked his feet into a pair metal loops rather like stirrups.
Where the hell were her stirrups?
Corrie didn’t have time to look. They were nearly at the edge of the crevasse, and as it loomed closer, Corrie could now see that it was in fact a very wide canyon splitting the ground.
“Hold on to something,” Vorne commanded even more insistently.
With no time left to think, Corrie’s hands instinctually went to Vorne’s hips and grasped the waistband of his leathery loincloth.
Vorne jerked back on the reins, and the drashegar angled upward pulling them high into the air. Corrie dared not turn her head, but in her peripheral vision, she could see Grekh and Xalleus’s drashegar and chariot making a similar maneuver.
They were jumping it.
They were literally jumping the canyon.
These freaking aliens were even crazier than Corrie had realized.
And the craziest part is that they clearly were not going to make it. The canyon was at least a hundred yards across. They had flown not even a quarter of that distance, and already the drashegar and chariot had reached the top of their arc and were now descending straight down into the yawning pit.
Corrie opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She clutched w
hite-knuckle tight to Vorne’s loincloth while the alien’s muscular arm remained tightly clamped around her midsection.
Corrie’s stomach was in her throat. It was like being on the galaxy’s worst roller coaster.
Now they were plummeting. The drashegar was flying straight down toward the bottom of the canyon hundreds of feet below where there flowed a river of green lava. The air above the lava’s surface wavered with heat. The warmth rising from it blasted Corrie’s face and bare breasts.
Time seemed to slow down.
In the midst of her overwhelming terror, she realized that all around her, carved directly into the dark, porous rock of the canyon walls were windows, balconies, arched galleries and porticos. The style was fluid and organic, but clearly it had been made not by random nature—it was the work of intelligent hands.
This was the city of Ashlar, hidden here inside the walls of the canyon.
With another deft jerk of the reins, Vorne steered the drashegar toward a massive hangar-like portal that was carved to resemble a gaping, monstrous mouth complete with fangs. The drashegar swooped inside gracefully, pulling the hover-chariot behind it. A moment later, and they had come to a stop inside the spacious chamber. Grekh and Xalleus’s chariot slid in right beside them.
As soon as Vorne released her, Corrie leaned over the edge of the chariot and promptly emptied her stomach of her breakfast—the fungi and pemmican that she had been fed before they set out that morning.
“You fucking asshole,” she rasped when she was done puking. She whirled around to face Vorne and repeated, a little more forcefully, “You fucking asshole!”
Corrie swung a punch into the alien’s chest, which he made no attempt to block. It was like punching a bronze statue, and it hurt Corrie’s hand more than it did Vorne’s chest, if it even hurt him at all.
“I warned you it would be frightening.”
Off to the side, Grekh and Xalleus were dismounting their chariot, but they were both clearly interested by Corrie’s shouting.
“You warned me? Vorne, that was like two seconds before you nose-dived into a freaking lava canyon. It’s a wonder I didn’t shit my pants. Oh wait, that’s right, I’m not wearing any pants because you tore of my clothing to shreds like a rabid animal!”