by Webster, K
It’s not a term us morts are familiar with, but the aliens like to refer to the fathers as daddies. Molly always giggles when she says the word like it has another meaning, and then all the other females laugh too. But it’s not the cruel kind of laugh. It’s the happy sort of laugh.
Our aliens are happy here on Mortuus with us. It’s something that fills every mort here with pride. Even the unpaired males.
Sareth’s features smooth out as she falls back asleep. I thought maybe she’d be hungry for the breast. With each day that passes, her appetite becomes more voracious. Sayer says she gets her appetite from me. It pleases me that they include me as a father, though I have no biological connection to the mortling.
Here, we get to make up our own families.
And these three beings are mine. I’ll never let them go.
“Mmm,” Grace utters in a groggy way. “You coming to bed, Jare?”
Now that everyone knows we’re a family, we’ve moved into the human sub-faction. It’s bigger and we use the area like a mini faction that belongs just to us. Aria says once the other girl wakes—if ever—she can take my old room. When Aria had started the sub-faction, she’d intended it as a place for the women to feel safe. But so far, the females feel safest in their mate’s rooms.
I kiss Sareth’s nog and rise to my feet. Her tiny bed is situated beside ours. Once I have her nestled in, I cover her with blankets and admire her for just one more moment.
“Jare?” Grace says gently. “You need sleep.”
Stifling a yawn, I peel my stare from our daughter and make my way back to our bed. Grace has the covers lifted, waiting for me to join her. Sayer sleeps soundly and wrapped around her like she might disappear. I smirk as I slip beneath the blankets beside her. Icy cold feet rub against my legs and I hiss.
“Female,” I growl.
“My feet are cold, male,” she growls back.
Then her mouth is on mine. Grace used to hold back. She protected a part of herself she was afraid for others to know and see. But when we took her off the Mayvina and brought her back, she changed. Any barriers she had were blown to bits as she revealed the real Grace to us.
Lonely. Broken. Sad.
All things we could repair. Once she let us in, Sayer went right to work. Within a few solars, we’ve made her smile more times than I can count. She’s happy with us. And Sareth is the true gift to all of us.
“Mmm,” Grace murmurs, tugging at my bottom lip with her teeth. “My alien tastes yummy.”
“You’re the alien,” I remind her. “With your strange filed down teeth and useless claws and flat tongue.”
“And where I come from, we call guys like you assholes.”
I slide my hand to her hip and squeeze her, pulling her close enough that her swollen breasts are pressed between us. “You like assholes, it would seem.”
She laughs—oh what a sweet sound. “It would seem.”
“And freaks,” Sayer rasps sleepily as his fingers thread with mine on her hip. “Don’t forget she likes freaks.”
“Tell us more about what the freaks do in your world,” I urge, grinning against her mouth.
“Why?” she groans. “So I can get hot and bothered again? We can’t do anything for at least five more weeks. That’s just mean.”
“I could lick your cunt if you wish,” I offer, flashing her a wicked smile.
“See? Freaks. That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she huffs. “I’m still bleeding, weirdo.”
“He likes blood,” Sayer says, sitting up on his elbow.
“We’ve established our mate is a kinky bastard.” She squirms, clearly turned on by our filthy talk.
“Since you don’t want us to touch you,” Sayer taunts. “I suppose we’ll just have to touch each other.” His hand slides between her and me. When he pulls my aching cock from my pants into his grip, I hiss. “You can watch, lovely mate.” He nips at her earlobe.
She turns her nog and accepts a kiss from him. “Or,” she purrs as her hand grips my cock too, “I could help.”
With both their hands gripping me, I close my eyes and groan. My hips flex as I rut against them, chasing the feeling of pleasure. It doesn’t take long before they tug me right into bliss. A hiss escapes me when I reach climax, soaking both their hands with my seed. One day, I want to fill Grace up with my seed so that maybe the next mortling she bears might look like me.
“Your turn,” Grace says breathily as she turns her body toward Sayer.
I reach over her and grip the base of Sayer’s cock while she grips the upper half. Together, we bring our mate to his climax as well. I’d love nothing more than to strip Grace down and show her the same pleasure, but with my forked tongue.
“You next?” I tease.
“I may be down to get freaky with my guys, but a girl has to draw the line somewhere.”
Sayer climbs over us and saunters into the other room. I hear the water running and then he returns with a towel. He cleanses us both before crawling back into bed. We cuddle close to our female mate and shower her with kisses, caresses, and the occasional tickle. We may not be able to mate with her like we want, but it doesn’t mean we can’t love her every second of every solar.
“You two spoil me,” she says sleepily as she drifts off.
I frown when I think of sabrevipe meat when it’s been spoiled. It reeks and is no longer good to eat. The very thought of her rotting away makes me feel queasy.
“Spoil?” I ask, horror in my tone. “I’m so sorry. That sounds horrible.”
At this she snorts. “No, freak, spoil where I come from means to treat like a queen.”
These aliens and their strange terms for things.
“Good,” I say with a sigh of relief. “Then we’re going to keep on spoiling you.”
“Every solar,” Sayer agrees.
Sayer is the first to fall asleep, his soft snoring a rhythmic cadence that soothes me to my toes. Then, Grace drifts off, a smile on her pretty face. I stare at them both—my mates—overcome with love and happiness.
In our world, so many things are uncertain.
Our next meal. The environment. Predators. Aliens.
But not this.
Love is the only thing around here that makes any sense.
Epilogue
Hadrian
I was a happy mort.
Playful. Fun. Adventurous.
Until I saw my first alien female.
The beating heart inside my chest thumped hard—so hard I worried I’d contracted a case of The Rades—when I looked at her soft, pale skin and her plump pink lips. I’d grown warm all over my body when I heard her voice. And when she spoke to me, I was completely enamored.
I would do anything for her.
Rekking anything.
Problem is, she’s not mine. No matter how much I want her to be, she’ll always belong to the mort who I think of as a father. He claimed her as if my heart that beat only for her didn’t matter.
And she claimed him too.
They have a mortling together now.
I press my clawed fingers to my chest where the ache won’t go away. It just burns each solar, hotter and more fierce. When Breccan told me I’d be leaving on this mission with Theron, I’d been furious. It took everything in me not to rage at him. I’m normally pretty in control of my emotions, but a few of my sub-bones popped upon his order, giving away my anger.
He knows.
I’ve teased him that if he ever goes to The Eternals, I will step in his place. But it’s truth. Some solars, I hate that I imagine a time when he’s gone and I must be her mate. It’s not that I wish Breccan gone, it’s that I wish Aria were mine.
Simply thinking her name has a lump of pain growing in my chest.
“Who kicked your rogcow?” Theron asks, sauntering into the control room of the Mayvina.
I snort and stare out at the clouds beyond the glass. We’re traveling just inside Mortuus’s atmosphere, above the raging geostorms. Magnas
trikes light up the red clouds below us. It’s peaceful up here. I’d worried I’d feel trapped or contained, but instead I can relax some.
In the facility, I was trapped.
It was worse than the time Breccan stuck me in a reform cell for two solars as punishment when I went swimming in the underground wells. I’d thought because I was nearly as tall as him I could knock him over and exert my strength. He quickly subdued me and locked me in there to “cool my rekking nog off.” Back then, only a few revolutions ago, I hated every horrible second while behind those bars.
But nothing is as bad as being held in a building, forced to watch everyone around you fall in love, mate, and have mortlings. Worse yet, watch the one you love happy with her family.
“You’re quiet and it’s unsettling,” Theron huffs, kicking my chair once he sits in the captain’s seat. “I thought you’d enjoy escaping Breccan’s grumbling and at the very least be entertaining to me.”
I scowl at him. “You can’t force someone to be happy.”
“Why aren’t you happy? We’re on an adventure, Hadrian. Above the clouds, we’re free.” Theron is beaming and thrumming with wild energy.
“Do you ever get jealous of the other morts?” I ask, not meeting his curious stare.
“Always.”
I snap my eyes to meet his. “Really?”
“Absolutely. One day, I hope I’ll find a mate.”
“I don’t want to find a mate,” I growl. “I want Aria.”
His dark brows furl. “You know you can’t have Breccan’s mate. We’ve talked about this. Are you rekking mad?”
“Jareth and Sayer share Grace,” I argue. “Why can’t he share Aria with me?”
He lets out a ragged breath. “Hadrian, there’s a difference.”
“How?”
“Rekk, you really are young.”
I don’t remind him that four solars ago—when we embarked on this journey—I turned eighteen revolutions. In the hustle to get out and on this mission, no one remembered. Not Breccan. Not Aria. No one.
“I just don’t see the difference,” I mutter, already feeling defeated.
“Grace chose them both, but…”
He doesn’t have to say it.
But Aria didn’t choose me.
She chose Breccan and only Breccan.
The pain swells inside me.
“You can’t keep going on like this,” he says. “Wishing for something that will never happen. It’s not right.”
“I know,” I mutter, the words bitter on my tongue. Truth is, I don’t know. I can’t change the way I feel. I’m simply destined to ache for something I’ll never have.
“Oh,” Theron says, pulling something from his breast pocket. “I forgot to give this to you.” He tosses me a folded paper, and then swivels around in his chair so he can mess with some dials on the comms unit. The video screen is scrambled with white static.
I pick up the paper from my lap and unfold it. In our language, but Aria’s handwriting, I read the note.
Hadrian,
Look! I can write Mortuuan! Well, not really. Uvie is helping with this endeavor, but maybe one day I can do it on my own so I can teach Sokko and the others both English and Mortuuan. Anyway, I’m writing this to tell you happy birthday! Eighteen! I remember eighteen…I was drunk and it was terrible, but I got a new car, so that was fun. But I immediately wrecked it, so that was not fun. Thank God you don’t have alcohol here.
I digress…
The point of this letter is to let you know that I love you like the brother I never had. You’re the best uncle to Sokko, and you’re the best son to Breccan. What you’re doing for me and Molly by going to Exilium to look for my sister and Willow is beyond brave and admirable. You’re a good man, Hadrian. One day you’re going to make the right woman very happy.
I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.
Name one of the stars in the sky for me.
Love,
Aria
I fold the letter and run my thumb claw over the top. She wrote a letter just for me. My heart races a little at that notion. But it’s once again clear she has no interest in me, comparing me to her family, not her mate.
My gaze travels to the brightest star above us. I silently name it Aria. The one next to it barely flickers. I name that one Hadrian.
“Warning,” a voice belts out from the comms. “You have breached protected air space.”
I sit up and jerk my nog toward the screen. Theron scrambles to mash buttons. A person wearing some sort of black mask fills the screen. It’s most definitely female, but muffled.
“Show your faces,” she orders.
Hadrian and I exchange a look before leaning in to take a closer look.
“More of the monsters,” she hisses to someone. Then, she practically growls at us. “Turn your vessel around if you want to live.”
“Listen, female,” Theron starts.
“No,” she snaps. “You listen, asshole. You’re to turn your ship around right now or I’ll have my friend blow you out of the sky.”
“We come in peace,” I try. “On a mission from my commander and his mate. We’re looking for her sister. Perhaps you could help us.”
Someone whispers to her nearby, but she waves the person off.
“Sister?” she asks, her brave tone wavering.
“Her name is Aria and—”
“Lyr, no!” the person off screen cries out.
The woman pulls off her mask and I’m struck dumb. The one staring at me is her. Aria. The one I love. My heart slams against my chest, aching to jump right through the screen to get to her.
“Aria?”
Theron whaps me. “No, you empty-nogged mortarekker! It’s Limerick! Her sister!”
“You know my sister?” she demands, her eyes flaring with anger and distrust.
Her lips. So full. So familiar.
“Like my friend here said, we have Aria at our facility and—”
“I want to talk to her. Now.”
“Listen, Limerick. I know all about you—”
“It’s Lyric and you don’t know shit about me.”
Oh, but I do. I know exactly how she got that nickname too. Rather than continue to waste everyone’s time, I flash her a smug smirk. One that says, “Yeah, I know because I’m your sister’s best friend.”
“You will release her to me,” she commands, her voice authoritative like Breccan’s.
“We’re not releasing her anywhere, Lyric,” I growl. “She’s ours.”
Theron shoots me a hard look, which I ignore.
“Yours?” Lyric’s nostrils flare and her lip curls up.
Mine.
“Yes, ours,” I challenge. “And we’re going to make you ours too.”
Fury morphs her face into one of rage, but then she wipes it away with a sinister smile. “Well, since you asked so sweetly. Just the two of you handsome fellas on that ship?”
“Just us,” I tell her.
Theron shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Unbelievable.”
“You’re cleared to land,” she says, her voice deceptively calm.
“They’re going to kidnap you,” someone whispers to her.
Lyric leans away from the view of the camera and whispers back, “They can fucking try.”
Kidnap isn’t a word we morts knew of, that is until the aliens started throwing it around. It means to take to the facility and keep them as ours. We’re definitely kidnapping Lyric and Willow. They should be pleased to be kidnapped and brought back to their families.
“Yes, kidnap,” I confirm. “We’ll be kidnapping you and Willow both. The others are none of our concern.”
Someone shrieks near Lyric and she comes back on screen, her eyes flashing in a challenging way. “Is that so, monster man?”
I flash her my rogstud horns with my fingers, a gesture meant to make those around me calm and sometimes laugh. “We’re on our way, alien.”
“Alien?” s
he scoffs, narrowing her eyes at the movement.
“Do you see any other aliens around?”
Her nostrils flare, but then she takes a deep breath and calms. It appears I do have Breccan’s flare for diplomacy after all. She smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “The whole alien gang will be here ready to give you a warm welcome. Bye, boys.”
The line goes dead.
“I got a bad feeling about this,” Theron mutters, shooting me an annoyed glare.
I tuck away my letter, ignoring his hunch. “Let’s go kidnap some females.”
So I can get back to mine. Aria. The mate I’ll never stop longing for.
This mission no longer feels like a punishment. It will be a reward the moment I retrieve the females and bring them back to Aria. She’ll hug me and I’ll nuzzle her hair, inhaling her unique scent. It’ll be the most wonderful gift a mort could receive.
Happy rekking birthday to me.
Keep reading with the next installment...
THE LONELY ORPHAN!
The Lonely Orphan
Book 5
Our planet has hope.
Still decaying and barely inhabitable, but ours.
With the arrival of the females, we’re no longer lonely.
Well, some of us aren’t.
For the rest, we ache for what they have.
Peace. Happiness. Love.
But where the other unmatched Morts want a mate to call their own, I’m different.
Life cruelly made me fall for the one person I’m not allowed to have.
Bitterness and jealousy are my mates now.
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will always be alone.
Until my commander sends me on a mission to rescue someone very important to his mate—her sister.
A woman so different. So imperfect. So maddeningly defiant. Someone I have no interest in whatsoever.
This feral female will never own my heart.
Or so I thought.
Love always has a plan of its own.
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