The Hunted

by Reagan Woods

  She tossed her dusty braid behind her shoulder and gripped the straps of her pack, her knuckles going white. “I thought you were a big, tough Warrior.” Her voice was hard and cold, the glint in her eye determined. “You aren’t going to let a little Earth female best you in a test of endurance, are you?”

  “Not today, princess,” he sneered back, strapping his combat helmet on and settling his sunshades over his eyes. If she wanted to be a stubborn fool, who was he to stop her?

  Either being in sight of her goal gave her energy or she was revved by their snarky exchange. Whatever the cause, Francesca quick stepped down the remainder of the gully. Her grace and agility weren’t at her usual levels, but it was clear their break had helped.

  Her climbing skills remained sharp. Nevertheless, picking their way up the cliff face was tricky. Twice, Silex lost his footing when the rock simply crumbled beneath his weight.

  The sharp edges of the dusty rock bit through his gloves as he hauled himself from hand hold to hand hold. Sweat beaded on his brow and rolled down his neck. His muscles burned, and the sickly song of pain twinged through his damaged joints. But they held.

  They were half way to the cave when he heard Francesca’s curse above as one of her hand holds gave way. Pebbles and sharp chunks of rock rained down on his helmet.

  “Alright?”

  “Dammit. Yes. I’m fine. But I’m going to have to backtrack and go laterally. It’s too dangerous to keep on this route. Too much scree for a secure grip.”

  He tilted his head back and watched as she carefully turned her body, her momentum, from right to left.

  It was like it happened in slow motion. Her foot twisted on the slight outcrop where she balanced, and the stone gave. She shrieked as her hands scrabbled for a hold.

  “Hold tight.” He was already moving toward her dangling feet.

  “That’s the plan,” she gritted, her body swinging dangerously away from the cliff as his heart leapt into his throat with a pounding lurch.

  Silex couldn’t watch her struggle, it was counterproductive. He had to keep his focus on finding hand and foot holds, on getting close enough to help. His whole being urged him to grab her, to pull her close and never let her go. But he was too far away. Testing the rock inch by agonizing inch took time.

  “Damn it to darkness,” he cursed in Corian Standard. Frustration swamped through him as sweat poured over his shades, making it hard to see. Every time he got within reach, the rock started to disintegrate under his weight. He had to plot a path around the swath of crumbling rock and hope the cliff above her was more stable. Every handhold had to bear the test of his weight, and that took time. Time was something they just didn’t have.

  “I can’t hang here much longer,” she gasped long minutes later. The note of resignation in her voice sent an unfamiliar desperation through him.

  “You have to.” Now, Silex was positioned slightly higher than her on the cliff. His seven feet and a bit of height came with a matching wingspan, but she remained just beyond his grasp. “Hold on, dammit.”

  “My fingers are slipping.”

  “They aren’t,” he denied. “Don’t let go.” Out of options, he stabilized his body as well as he could.

  “I’m sorry I drug you into this.” Francesca’s voice sounded eerily calm. Her tone sent a shiver of warning through his body. This wasn’t how the infuriating Earther was going to die. He shrugged his pack off, swung it in her direction. “Grab on!”

  Chapter 8

  “Shit,” Fran grunted as the thick, rubbery strap of Silex’s pack smacked into the side of her head. The fingers of her left hand were slipping, the tips cut and bloody. It made the porous surface of the rock too slick to hang on to. Her right hand was similarly slashed but holding. For now.

  For a brief second, she regretted forcing the issue and goading Silex into climbing up to the cave. Why hadn’t she just told him she didn’t like the idea of camping out in the open after the drone pilots had set them up for the kill shot? He was an alien Warrior, a member of the infamous Track Team One. It was possible – even probable – that he had access to technology that could have kept them safe on the ground. Her pride was going to be the end of her.

  “Francesca, grab the fucking bag,” he commanded, interrupting her poorly timed moment of reflection. That head injury must be worse than she - “Now!”

  Oh, yeah. That was why she hadn’t wanted to cooperate.

  “Bossy fuck,” she muttered, psyching herself up to transfer her left hand to the strap on the bag that dangled tantalizingly close. Her strength was flagging and if she didn’t time it just right, she was going to splatter all over the rocks below like Humpty Dumpty. There weren’t any kings or horses or men here – just the alien Warrior. She didn’t think he could put her back together again after that kind of fall either.

  “This bossy fuck is trying to save your life,” he shot back, impatience and frustration sharpening his tone.

  With a whispered prayer, Francesca dug deep and bounced her shaking arm up high enough to get her wrist through the strap. Her fingers were so numb there was a moment when she wasn’t certain she’d be able to close them. As the ragged flesh closed over the rubbery material, pain sparked, and she gasped.

  “Good,” he grunted from above. “Grab on with your right hand, too. I’ll haul you up.”

  She had reason to know Silex was as strong as the proverbial ox – he’d hauled her around like so much dead weight more than once, but the idea of putting herself completely in his hands on this sheer rock face had her breaking into a cold sweat. But there wasn’t a choice. They were in this now.

  “On three,” she agreed, grabbing hold of her nerve. “One, two, three!” She bit back a shriek as her body weight lurched onto the pack, and she swung out into the open air.

  She twisted jerkily as he hauled her up, every muscle in her arms and shoulders throbbed and ached. The pounding in her head increased until she thought her whole body would explode. She forced herself to breathe, willed oxygen to her screaming muscles, willed the drummer boy in her head to back off.

  How could she help Silex help her? Though her eyes were open wide, she couldn’t bring herself to look up or down. She kept her gaze focused firmly forward. When she swung back toward the rock, she used her feet to help propel her up the cliff.

  The ascent stretched on agonizing moment by agonizing moment. Fran lost track of how many times they slid and jerked. Silex, hampered by her bodyweight and the inability to use one arm while they climbed, slid and cursed, slamming her bodily into the rocks again and again. But he didn’t give up and he was stupidly strong.

  When he jerked her whole body up and into his arms, she thought she might faint from the surge of relief that swamped her. Her hands didn’t want to release their life-lock on his bag. She consciously relaxed, finger by finger, until he pried the strap from her hand and tossed the bag aside.

  As he sat her on her feet, she realized they were on a thin ledge just outside the little cave. It was all that remained of the little goat path she remembered. The rock appeared brittle and pocked, pieces broken off and crumbled into nothingness.

  Her head spun dizzily, and he steadied her with a light hold on her shoulders. “Thank you,” she gripped his wrists, belatedly realizing she left bloody bracelets on his arms. “You saved my life.”

  “I’ll check out the cave.” He gave her a gentle push toward the rock wall, away from the edge. “Make sure it’s safe. Then, I think we should get some rest.”

  Fran couldn’t read his eyes, he had those damned goggles on, but she knew she’d made him uncomfortable. Silex was much more at ease when they were bickering or fighting. Or giving into their carnal urges. That would just have to wait, though. Right now, she didn’t have the energy to engage.

  His bald head poked out of the cave and jerked back in a ‘come ahead’ gesture.

  Once inside, Fran shrugged out of her pack and slid down to the gravel strewn floor with more spee
d than grace.

  “You need to take something for your pain,” Silex prodded softly.

  If she didn’t do it herself, she had no doubt Silex would dig through her things while she slept. She couldn’t have that.

  With a groan, she pulled herself upright and pawed through her pack for a pain aide. “Happy now?” She asked once it was coursing through her blood. The pain faded, but her eyelids felt like they each weighed a ton.

  “Ecstatic.” Gently, he helped her lay down, pillowed her head on his massive thigh.

  As she dozed off, she heard the slight crack and buzz of Silex’s healing wand. He was a bossy fuck, but at least she knew he would do what he could to help her. If she could only figure out why. Silex never did anything altruistically.

  Chapter 9

  The deep and dreamless sleep was a godsend. When Fran awoke, she found herself sprawled face down across Silex’s hulking form. Her head was tucked beneath his chin and the throbbing behind her eyes was somewhat diminished. One big hand splayed across her back. The fingers of the other hand were clamped around her braid.

  They were laying across the cave entrance, far back in the shadows. From here, she couldn’t see the ground, but dark was falling across the sky. The thick layer of smog that had covered LA for years had dissipated and she could see the golden orange of the sun setting off to the west.

  This close to the big alien, she could smell the sweat of hard weeks in the rough. She knew some of the heavy, sour musk emanated from her, too. They desperately needed to wash and to refill their canteens.

  The need for water was part of what steered her to this cave. The land had changed, but for many years, there had been a fresh-water stream at the very back of this cave that eventually fed into the nearby lake. Even a trickle would help.

  The idea of fresh water nearby made her scalp itch unbearably. Her vivid imagination had her convinced that all manner of eight-legged critters crept and crawled through her hair.

  With a leg braced on either side of his wide body, Fran gingerly began to extricate herself from the big alien’s hold. As soon as she moved, his grip tightened reflexively.

  “Ouch!” Clearly her body still needed some time to heal from her recent adventures in hovercraft diving and rock climbing/cliff pummeling.

  “Shhh.” Silex’s breath stirred her hair as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

  Mmm…that felt nice…wait.

  “Dude.” She wiggled against his stifling embrace. The water was calling, and her (hopefully) imaginary bugs wouldn’t wait. She could all but hear the steady trickle coming from the depths of the cave promising squeaky clean hair and quenched thirst. “Let me up.”

  “Go back to sleep,” he growled, firmly pushing her head back to his chest. When she was a kid – way back when the internet still worked – she’d seen a video of a kitten trying to pull its head out of a German shepherd’s playful embrace. She had the uncomfortable feeling that was what she looked like right now. Or an inebriated bear trying to pull its head from a jar of honey. Either way, she was stuck.

  “Let. Me. Go,” she demanded, punctuating each word with a physical lunge backward.

  Finally, she broke through his sleepy insistence only to find herself pitched awkwardly across his lap when he bolted upright.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked, head swiveling left and right as though searching for an enemy.

  Finding no active threat, he turned his attention to her. Meaty hands wrapped around her upper arms as he took stock of her face with concerned eyes. Without his goggles, she could see herself clearly reflected in his metallic irises. They seemed to catch the last rays of the dying sun and beam them back at her.

  Fran took a moment to study him. They were so close she could see that his skin had already shed the blisters. Healthy, pink skin was regenerating over his face at an amazing rate. At this rate, the burns would be nothing but a memory within a day or two.

  Beneath her splayed legs, she felt the obvious press of his erection growing. She flushed with heat from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. Clearly, they were both recovering.

  It had been too long since she’d had physical contact with another being, she told herself. She was totally over the annoying hormonal hiccough she’d experienced back in the Texas camp. Whenever he’d been near, her body had gone on red alert in the naughtiest of ways. Not now, though. No way. No how.

  They both went utterly still, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Fran looked away first and cleared her throat loudly.

  “I’d like to take a look around, see if I can locate the little stream that used to be here,” she told him, hating that her words sounded more breathless than assertive.

  Like a magnet, her gaze was drawn back to his. Trapped.

  His eyes narrowed with intent as he leaned close. One big hand slid up to cup her neck and the back of her head, fingers flexing slightly as he held her steady.

  Fran drew in a deep breath, eyes drifting to half-mast even as her brain screamed that this was a bad idea.

  Remember, you stink. You need water to drink and to bathe. Her common sense tried to break through the thick haze of lust.

  Cleanliness is overrated. When was the last time someone made your body tingle, made your soul feel alive? Her inner irresponsible teenager argued back. Someone needed to slap some sense into that horny little minx.

  She leaned in, her lips parting a hairsbreadth from Silex’s plush mouth. Her inner teenager was on a mission and her body was happy to go along.

  The thick bar of his cock pulsed against her core as she slid closer. Her body answered with a clench and a rush of wetness as she rocked against him. They both groaned at the torturous pleasure.

  Her stomach chose that moment to rumble with hunger.

  On a groan of frustration, Fran pulled back and dropped her head to Silex’s shoulder. “We need to focus on the next steps,” she muttered, straightening to scrub her hands over her face. “Water and food. I can start with water. I can practically smell it nearby, and if I’m not mistaken, I hear it trickling back there. I need to get clean.”

  “Be my guest.” Silex’s generous mouth pulled into a tight smile. “Let me know if you need help cleaning up,” his voice dropped a full octave. “I’ve got two hands and I’m willing to use them.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she bit out sharply. Her breath came in short bursts and her heart raced out of control.

  There was a wash of relief when his arms dropped to his sides though he made no move to help her to her feet.

  His lack of cooperation made standing awkward as she had to use his shoulders as hand holds and practically smothered him with her slight breasts when she stood.

  His sharp intake of breath was audible.

  It was purely the fault of her repressed hormonal teen that she felt compelled to hold her position for several long moments before she slowly stepped away from his big, appealing body.

  Chapter 10

  There were many and varied unflattering English words and phrases for females like Francesca, Silex thought darkly as he watched her disappear, hips swaying provocatively, into the darkness of the cave. “Cock tease,” he muttered, bitterly amused despite the need to stand and pace off the aftereffects of her cruel maneuver.

  He knew all about cock teases. If only he could quit Francesca as easily as he had the last female that made his life such a staggering hell. Too bad he needed the feisty Earther to answer his questions. Otherwise, he’d leave her as quickly as he’d left his betrothed back in Corian Space. Silex wasn’t ever going to allow a female that kind of control over him.

  He looked around, absently assuring his gear was squared away as was his habit. Had she swiped his helmet? He ground his palms into his eyes for a long minute before chuckling darkly. That was one potent female.

  The sultry Earther changed frequencies faster than an encrypted message. Francesca started off aloof and a little arrogant only to deliberately stir his l
ust with her alluring ways. He responded. Why shouldn’t he? He was a healthy male. Francesca waited for that response, flaunted it in his face, and then pushed him away.

  Dendara hadn’t been quite that blatant, but she’d used her wiles to the best of her abilities. She’d simply never cared enough to uncover the male behind the bonding contract their mothers had negotiated. They were an ill-suited match, but Dendara’s mother had been his own mother’s childhood confidante.

  Silex had hoped to avoid bond-mating Dendara. He’d gone so far as to suggest other, more biddable candidates. His mother would have none of it. So, when Dendara threw her last tantrum and demanded a renegotiation of their bonding contract, he’d forced his mother’s hand – and sealed his own fate – by enlisting in the Warriors. He’d lost his family and his social standing and still deemed life without the shrew worth it.

  Now, Silex was faced with a different kind of wily, strong-willed female. At first, he believed Francesca was disgusted by him, by his alien-ness, and damned if that wasn’t insulting. Corians were more advanced, more civilized and far less savage than Earthers. Her attitude was enough to drive a male to madness.

  The faint sounds of splashing pulled him out of his own head. She’d found her stream. He grudgingly admitted (if only to himself), a place to resupply water in this vast and barren land was an asset. Her instincts for survival were finely honed – except for that last gamble where she’d refused to rest before tackling the sheer rock face. That had been foolish…still, he’d wager she had her reasons. Not that she’d ever willingly share them.

  She had her reasons for every single thing she did. If she let him kiss her, put his hands on her body, it wasn’t because she wanted him. He’d learned that, at least. No, it was because she wanted something from him. That would suit him just fine – if he were the only male she wanted something from. Silex didn’t like to share.

  His mind drifted as the sounds of trickling water picked up. Taking on a life of its own, his libido fed his mind a picture of her stripped down, golden skin exposed as water cascaded over and into all her most interesting places. She’d wash her small breasts. Her fingers would drift to the wet thatch of sweet-scented curls between her legs. Maybe she’d pleasure herself while he stood here, straining to hear the gasps and moans echo in the still air.