MINE: A POSSESSIVE ALIENS BOOK

by Renard, Loki

  I was wrong. There are words that can make this better, and he just said them. There are tears in my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, pouring from my soul. This brutal beast of an alien who terrified me into unconsciousness when I first saw him not only has the body of a warrior, but the soul of a poet.

  “I love you,” he says gently, stroking my hair from my head. “You’re mine.”

  “Yours,” I say, repeating the word, feeling it in my soul.

  I’m his. Of course I am. Who else can I belong to? Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

  He cradles me close and a sense of deep comfort begins to sink into my bones. Tarkan may have rescued me, but Reaper has saved me. His touch reaches more than my skin. It gets inside me. It transforms the world completely. I am something else too. I don’t know who I am, but I think I like it, because in spite of the pain, the confusion, the loss, I am feeling parts of myself start to emerge that could not exist in the dusty cave where I hunted rodents and drank dew.

  That place is gone. That world is gone. But I’m here. And that means there’s still hope.

  I feel him nuzzling me, his mouth on my skin in a gentle kiss on my neck, moving to my collarbone, then to my shoulder. There is nothing demanding about his kisses. They are not intended to ignite passion, but to express his love.

  Reaper calls, and my body answers. It’s not something he tries to do. He can’t help but draw me to him, just like I can’t resist. We kiss, his mouth covering mine, my head spinning, the pain and fear of capture slipping away as he consumes me all over again, reminds me that I am his. I have lived a life of separation and isolation, but now I am connected. To him. To the life force inside him. To the rest of the universe through him.

  Tarkan

  I stand, watching the monitors in the room as Reaper pulls her against his body again, pressing his lips to hers. That’s my cue to turn the screen off. I've never lost a battle before, but this is one I am happy to have lost.

  At one time I considered killing Reaper to take One for my own, but she’s not mine. No matter how many times I save her, he’s the one she reaches for. I’ve made my peace with that. Maybe one day I’ll find my own One, someone who looks at me the way she looks at him. Someone who needs me the way she craves him. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I have always done, scything through the stars, looking for something to fight. Or eat. Or both.

  Chapter Fourteen - Naughty Human

  Weeks later…

  Reaper

  Once I was a warrior. Now I am guardian and lover to the most precious young woman in all creation. But doing endless battle at the front lines of the ever expanding Scythkin empire was easier than keeping one human in line, I swiftly discover.

  One of the many strange things about our situation is that I know more about the world One came from than she does herself. I have met more people. Had many more experiences. So although she is native to the planet, born of it, I am the one she comes to in order to learn about the world before it was lost. I find myself in the role of lover, mentor, and educator.

  * * *

  “Tell me another story from the old Earth.” One is sitting on my lap, running her fingers over the retracted seams of my battle ridges, and begging me for tales of the peoples of the world. I have so many stories I could tell, but one in particular springs to mind.

  We have been orbiting a remote moon of an even more remote planet in an exceptionally remote system very far away from Scythkin territory for a month now. One and I have become exceptionally close. Fully mate bonded. Tarkan has made himself scarce, consumed with a guilt for his actions he cannot ever assuage. He acts as scout and roaming guard, often spending days or even weeks at a distance, giving us our space.

  The human story I begin to tell has some small parallels to our own situation, and I think telling it might lift One’s spirits, as well as my own. I am not accustomed to simply hiding in a corner, running from battle, but I had no choice. I had to protect her, and now that I feel her in my lap, her soft body pressing against mine so very trustingly, I know I would make that choice a thousand times over.

  “Well, alright, a fairly long time ago there was a king named Arthur who was attempting to rule over a kingdom named Wessex.”

  “Did you meet him?”

  “Yes actually. I met him hiding in a bush. He later got famous for hiding in a peasant woman’s home.”

  “Why was he hiding so much?

  “You’d be surprised how much British history featured various kings hiding places, but in this case his kingdom was being invaded by Vikings, which were very aggressive people from across the water who were known for getting out of their minds on mushrooms and other substances and generally hacking at anything that moved.”

  My recounting of history is not akin to the official version, but when you have your own personal recollections of pale men with pupils like saucers burning and slashing their way through small picturesque country villages, you can take whatever artistic license you like.

  “Seems weird that a king would hide,” she says, screwing up her nose. “I hid, but that was because I was all alone and everything was trying to hurt me.”

  “At the time, his circumstances were much the same. He was a young man, very close to your age. His brother, the previous king had just died in battle at the age of twenty two and they didn’t have the numbers to take the Vikings head on at that point in time, so they’d leap out of the marshes, knock a few off, and then return to hovels and huts.”

  “Didn’t the Vikings just start destroying the hovels?”’

  “Well, they were doing that anyway.

  “I guess the Vikings won?”

  “Actually no, they didn’t. Alfred was very young, and not very well, but he was a wise king. He knew when to make a retreat. He found a very old fortress, which came from a time long before him, and there he built up an army. Three thousand men whose swords were made from scythes and other pieces of farming equipment. They faced the Vikings at a place called Edington. And they won.”

  “They won? After all that hiding?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “Sometimes, running and hiding is the way to win the war, even if the battle is lost. Humans were exceptional at losing battles, but it never mattered…”

  “In the end, it did,” she says sadly. “In the end, the invaders destroyed the whole planet.”

  “But you’re still alive,” I tell her gently. “And it’s possible that some great thing may still come of that.”

  One gives me an adorably skeptical look. “I don’t think so.”

  “Alfred didn’t think so either. But history shows him as the victor. He began as the king of Wessex, and became the king of all of England. Except for the regions at the far north, which they didn’t count for whatever reason.”

  “Hm.”

  “That story is seen as generally motivating,” I say, a little confused at her reaction. She doesn’t seem to find it inspirational in the least.

  “Is it? Maybe you tell it wrong.”

  I snort and swat her impudent bottom. “Maybe it’s hard to relate to a story about a king in a bush when you’re a brat in my lap.”

  “I like rhyming! Try the rhyming for the next story.”

  I never thought I would find myself telling stories to a small human female who has proved to be feisty to the point of disrespect, and not be enraged by that, but enjoy it. She squeals with laughter as I make growling sounds and nibble at her neck and shoulder, pretending to devour her for her crime of insolence.

  One

  Wrapped in Reaper’s arms, I am so completely happy I momentarily forget all that has been lost. After I was rescued, he told me that I was home, and I argued that it wasn’t, but now I know what he meant.

  “Tell me another story…”

  “Another story? Hm,” he rumbles. I love the way I can feel his voice through his chest, vibrating my body. “Later, I need to speak with Tarkan.”

  “About what?”
<
br />   “About where we are going next.”

  “About what swamp we’re going to hide in next, you mean?

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “So when do we find a fortress and wage war on the bad guys?”

  I still don’t fully understand what happened to the world. I know that some aliens removed it to make way for their space road, and I understand that we are fugitives from those same aliens who also wanted to hurt me. But I don’t understand how these warriors can plan to hide forever, or what we will do now.

  Reaper’s expression becomes severe. I feel his muscles flex around me as he stands up, depositing me lightly on my feet, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

  “You’re going to have a good life, One,” he tells me. “I know it’s strange now, but you’re going to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” I say. “I just want vengeance for the world. They had no right to destroy it. There were a lot of things still living there. There were a lot of people still living there.”

  “We couldn’t find signs of anyone else.”

  “I’m sure they were there. I met people sometimes. They would come by on their way through the desert. They’d always die in the desert, but there were people. For sure.”

  “We couldn’t see anyone, One.”

  “Maybe you’re not very good at finding people. Or maybe they’re like Alfred, good at hiding.”

  “Maybe,” he says. “But they’re gone now. I’m sorry.”

  “I don't think they are.”

  He frowns at me. “They are gone, One.”

  “I don't think they are.”

  He gives me a pitying look, like I’m too stupid to understand what happened. I know the Earth isn’t where it was anymore, but I also don’t believe Tarkan’s story that it was turned into millions of space puppies.

  “I’m going to talk to Tarkan.”

  “I’ll come too.”

  “You don’t need to hear what we’re talking about. It won’t make sense to you and…”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “I know you're not stupid. That’s why I don’t want you to hear what we have to say. It’s not going to be a pleasant conversation.”

  “So? I’m part of this now, aren’t I? I want to understand what’s happening.”

  He hesitates, and I know he is going to say no, but he has no right to say no. I have already lost everything. I don’t want to be kept out of the decisions. I don’t want to be treated like a captive. I understand that he controls Tarkan, somehow, sort of, but he will not control me. I am human. The last human, if I believe him, and I will represent my lost species with all the pride and rage it deserves.

  “Get some rest,” he says.

  “I’m not tired,” I reply. “I want to know what you’re going to do. I have some ideas of my own.”

  “One, you don’t understand how this works. You don't know anything about the universe.”

  “Then stop telling me stories about soggy kings and tell me how it works.”

  “Another time. You need to rest now. You’re still recovering.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He walks toward the door. I follow him, my toes almost at his heels. When he gets to the door he turns around and puts his hand on my head, holding me back as it opens.

  “Stay,” he orders sharply. “Or there will be consequences.”

  “What are you going to do? Destroy my planet?”

  “Sassy little human,” he growls, his arm still in the door as it closes. He pulls it back just as it seals itself shut. I try to open it, only to find that it won’t open. I’ve been locked in. Like an animal.

  “LET ME OUT!”

  He doesn’t reply, and he doesn't come back. If I could remember any of the words my mother used to use when she was angry, I’d shout them at him now. As it is all I can muster is an animal growl.

  Reaper

  I know she wants to be part of things, but I don’t want her to know that the destruction of Earth was Tarkan’s fault. We have serious things to discuss today, decisions to make. We have been hiding here for sometime, but we can’t hide forever. We’re going to have to make a truce at some point, or at least find a more permanent hiding place.

  Recently returned from a scouting mission, Tarkan has tried to give us as much space as possible, but this is a small shuttle and there is still only one bed. On more than one night, he has slept in the captain’s chair, pretending that he prefers to keep an eye on the stars while One and I exchange all manner of fluids.

  I will never tire of pushing inside her, filling her wet little hole with my rough cock, watching her sensitive flesh spread and stretch around mine. She is beautiful and delicate, she is wicked and she is smart, learning about the new world in which she finds herself with a rapid voracious appetite that I can hardly keep up with.

  She is also becoming more and more trouble. Every new thing she learns opens up a plethora of possibilities for mischief and general destruction. There was a reason we never took humans on board our vessels. They have a habit of taking things apart to see how they work, which usually leads to chaos.

  When I reach the control room, Tarkan is at the controls, keeping an eye on the scanners. We have to be constantly vigilant to make sure no Scythkin or Scythkin affiliated craft are in the region.

  “Quiet out there?”

  “Very,” he says.

  “I’m thinking we head further out.”

  “Going to be hard to fuel up further out. And there’s more likelihood of running into hostile pirates. I think we need to…” he pauses and looks behind me… “is One out?”

  “She can’t be, I locked her…”

  I turn around to see a flash of foot as she turns and scampers back through the passageway. She was spying on us, listening into the conversation.

  “How did she do that?”

  Tarkan chuckles. He has relinquished all ties to One, which means he also has no responsibility to discipline her. He can sit back and watch everything that unfolds now and find it very amusing, which he does.

  I have been reluctant to physically chastise One, thinking she has been through enough, but if she disobeys me and treats my orders as mere suggestions, then she will be even worse than Tarkan. I can have less than perfect control over him, but I will not tolerate disobedience from her.

  She is already back in the bedroom when I reach her, but the door is open and the door panel itself has been pulled off the wall. There are wires sparking against the door, and when I touch it a shock jolts my muscles. I curse abruptly in my native tongue and snarl at the human who is now sitting on the bed, trying her very best to look innocent.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  My mouth was already open to speak, but at her denial, I find myself momentarily unable to form the sentence I had planned.

  “What do you mean it wasn’t you? Who was it that pulled this panel off?” I step out and yell to Tarkan up front. “Hit the bedroom breaker before we burn up out here.”

  She tosses that golden red hair defiantly and looks at me with those dark eyes that are oh so human and filled with challenge. She’s not afraid of me. When we first met she couldn’t maintain consciousness in the presence of our true forms. Now she looks at me as I am and finds it in herself to disobey me.

  “One, you have to stay in this room. And, may I add, if I need to, it is important that you do not dismantle the ship. There are vulnerable systems in the walls, dangerous ones too. You could kill yourself, and I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

  She nods slowly, and I think that perhaps she has understood my calm but firm censure. I am familiar with methods of disciplining humans. I even engaged in some of them myself when I mated with humans many hundreds of years ago. They enjoyed the discipline as part of their sexual experience. I learned that for some women, pleasure and pain were intimately linked. I don’t know if that is the case for One, but I know that I will discipline her very sternly if she keeps disobeying me.


  “Okay,” she says. “I won’t pull that panel off that door again.”

  That’s not good enough. She’s promising specific things because she plans to disobey me in some other way.

  “I mean it. You are putting yourself in danger - and you are far too precious to be in danger. I will keep you safe even from yourself.”

  “That’s nice,” she says. “But I’m still going to listen to what you say about me, and what we’re going to do. And I’m going to have an opinion about it. And I’m going to tell you what that opinion is. And if I don’t like what I hear, then I’m going to go my own way.”

  “Your own way.”

  “Yes.”

  I know she is used to being independent, but this is ridiculous. She knows she can’t survive on her own. She has had a brush with Scythkin command before. She felt the pain of interrogation. I suppose I should take this rebellion as a sign that she is feeling safe enough to have forgotten the terror she experienced. Or maybe she’s just covering that fear with bravado. Whatever it is, I’m not going to tolerate it.

  “You, young lady, are not going your own way. You are going my way, whether you like it or not.”

  I would have thought that warning, growled in a tone usually reserved for enemies who are about to be taken apart in one way or another, would be enough to dissuade her, but she makes a gesture at me that I am fairly certain is rude in her context. It’s definitely rude in mine.

  “I’m going to put you back in your containment chamber, and you can think about behaving vs misbehaving.”

  “You put me back in that glass jar and I will bite you every time I see you.”