Taken to Nobu: A SciFi Alien Romance (Xiveri Mates Book II)

by Elizabeth Stephens

  “Why run? Why not just sit here and wait for them to come?” I ask.

  Again, white flashes in the woman’s face and I wonder if this isn’t some sort of surprised expression. It would help if it were, because otherwise, there is no expression to their faces whatsoever. Just sculpted cheeks and sideways blinking eyes that freak the shit out of me.

  “As a ruse?”

  As a way to save our strength and plan a concerted offensive. “Sure.”

  Her head tilts in a way I find weird because it’s so human and finally says, “It could be intriguing. To confuse them, perhaps? But certainly, all of us couldn’t…” Her brow bone flashes grey then blue then the palest cream. Several of the other women begin to whisper. Some shake their heads.

  I don’t understand and unleash my frustration. “I’m just saying, what is the point of running? Why would we separate and run off like idiots when we could prepare now to fight?”

  “I…” It’s as if the thought has never occurred to her. Maybe it hasn’t. She shakes her head. “We cannot fight the Okkari and his warriors. It is unheard of, besides. We must give good chase. If we are too easy to catch, then it will be assumed we are too weak to bear, raise and protect our kits. We will not be chosen, even if there are unmated males left.”

  “So if we do nothing, we won’t be chosen? Is that a guarantee?”

  The female’s ridges blaze another color, this time bright fuchsia. “Nox. Nothing is guaranteed in the Mountain Run…”

  “Then we can’t risk it.” My next words stick in my throat as I realize what I’ve said. I said we. “I can’t risk it. So if you can’t fight and staying put accomplishes nothing, then what happens when we do run and outlast the males?”

  Her hands rest on her thighs as she kneels on the hard stone ground. No one else seems to have a blanket here but me. “It would be too dangerous not to be found at all. The Mountain Run can take to the end of the solar, and by the lunar, the temperatures are too stark. And even if somehow one managed to survive the lunar temperatures, it is likely that a night beast would find you quickly.” She raises one hand. It has six long, hideous fingers. “They are not possible to kill bare-handed.”

  A fist tightens in my chest. I punch it down with aggression, plowing straight through it. “Where is the next village? How far?”

  “Too great a distance to travel,” she answers hesitantly. “Not without provisions.”

  I hardly wait for her answer before I fire off, “So there’s no way to avoid this Hunt without being caught? Not if we want to live.” I said we again. Fuck me. Fuck them.

  “If a female were to evade capture altogether and return to the village after the final horn is blown, then…I suppose she could choose not to select a mate, as none were suitable for her. She may then be given the opportunity to participate in a Mountain Run in a different tribe so that she may find a stronger, more worthy male but…Va’Rakukanna, your concerns are unfounded. Never has this happened in the history of the Run on the Mountain.”

  I feel my insides pitch and my lips twist, as if biting down on sour fruit. “So I must either outlast the males or kill them.”

  “Kill them?” White ridges ripple around the cave. Six-fingered hands cup around hard, abrasive looking lips as low words are traded between the females. The white in the cave intensifies and it has nothing to do with the cold outside.

  “I fear I do not understand. This Mountain Run has been called in your honor. We never thought we would be so lucky to have our own Okkari — the Va’Raku — discover his Xiveri mate on a Dra’Kesh moon; however, he did and now that you are well, he wanted to organize the Mountain Run immediately.

  “Even if you are not able to present an adequate chase, and even if another male vies for you — which is likely to happen given the interest of our males in the human females,” she says, trying out the word in my own human brogue. Hearing our language on her tongue feels slimy and an unnatural chill shoots down my spine. “…the Okkari would not allow himself to be bested in this. It is a true test for him. And he will take you no matter how you present. It is known that you are overcoming your injury, my Xhea…”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say, dropping to one knee beside her in the circle and slamming my fist onto the floor where it makes a muted thump. “Don’t call me any of these stupid fucking alien names. Don’t call me anything. Just tell me everything about the terrain.”

  She seems to search my face with her gaze, but I shut down, becoming as blank as she appears to me. All I hope to communicate is that I hate her. I don’t want to be here. I want to see where my friends are and I want to know that they’re alright. I want to go back to my mom and Jaxal and the shitty colony we live on — comets, I’d even take my dad and his new family at this point — but first I need to survive the night.

  “Alright.” She nods and proceeds to show me the crude outline of the mountain that they’ve sketched with twigs and rocks and snow. There are a few known hideouts, so naturally I’ll be avoiding all of those. There’s a copse of trees that looks promising. A mire that looks equally promising and what she describes as a stone labyrinth of chenag nests that also looks good.

  When I ask her what’s beyond the mire, she says, “Nothing. Just the endless ocean on top of the mountain. To the east. As far as the eye can see.”

  As if on cue, another wind gale whips in through the metal gate, bringing more of the white cold and with it, promises of a slow, torturous death. “And how do the males hunt?”

  “By scent. They have been through our cave to track the scent markings of the females they desire most. Several stopped by to tag your scent while you slept, including the Okkari.”

  What. In. The. Actual. Fuck. I stop breathing until pain punctures my lungs and I feel sick with the taste of it. I glance around the barren cavern, imagining the huge, red giant who hunted me those three rotations ago leering over me while I slept, a big blue giant like the one who’s probably torturing Miari now as I speak, right beside him. Why didn’t they just rape us again then? Why go through with this sick pageant?

  I shut down my thoughts, refusing to think of Miari because I can’t help her now. Or Svera. Whatever gods Svera prays to will keep her safe. They have to. Because I can’t get to them here on this planet full of white and cold and aliens. I need to get free so I can see them and make sure they’re safe. Make sure they’re not ruined like I was. But first, I need to kill the red one.

  The thought of seeing him again makes my whole torso shake and goose pimples break out along the back of my neck. Sweat glosses my palms and I blink wildly, trying to shake the sudden hollowness in my stomach or the wobble to my knees. The women are busy trying to decide how best to traverse the labyrinthine cave system, but I’ve got half a plan and a lot more questions. And a promise, one made to myself: I’m going to kill the red one. That means that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let him hurt me.

  “If they tag a female they want, but they don’t find that female, what happens?”

  Some of the women glance at me, colors visible in their faces but I don’t know what they mean any more than I understand why we’re being hunted like this in the first place.

  Still, the leader still patiently says, “They may choose to accept another female they have found, but more times than not, they will keep hunting. It is known that most — if not all — males will not participate in the Mountain Run in the hopes of finding their Xiveri mate, but their Xanaxana may still take a shine to one or more of the females. In this case, selecting one such female will be acceptable…”

  “And you say that one of them in particular is going to come for me.” Just like last time. Just like every time. The shakes threaten to overwhelm me. I feel bile shoot up from my stomach and into my mouth. My whole body heaves for a moment, but I swallow, throat burning with the taste of it.

  “Hexa, you are his one true mate. His Xiveri mate.”

  I’d rather burn alive. I turn to the map, hating
the female, and open my mouth to tell her every single thing I think about her precious red alien and what he did to me in the last Hunt, but the bitch cuts in. “She is nothing. She is no Xiveri mate. She hasn’t been claimed yet. She hasn’t done the Mountain Run. She may think she’s something special because she is this human aberration, but a human will never be our Xhea. Least of all this one,” she spits, her last sentence coming out as a nasty, twisted whisper. It almost sounds like a challenge and I almost rise to it until I realize that she and I are in agreement about everything. In fact, she’s the only one I’ve agreed with so far about anything.

  I glance at the female whose forehead is as red and menacing as her words are and say, “You’re right, but fuck you anyways.”

  “You disgraceful…”

  “Shut up,” I bark, loud enough to startle two of the other females, including the slight green one who sits off to the side, looking very small and very terrified. I hate her, yet my protective instincts flare anyways. She’s too young to be here. Just like I was, my first time. “We don’t have time and we need to work together if we’re going to outrun — if we’re going to present adequate chase,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “They tag us by scent so we need to disrupt it. Everyone, take off your clothes.” No one moves. Everyone shines. Rising up to stand, I shout, “Take them off!” My voice is brittle and tortured.

  My outer layers are bound around me in ties and knots I don’t know how anyone is supposed to be able to get through. They make for slow progress, but I don’t let any of the alien freaks help me. That would require them touching me and my stomach rebels at the thought.

  Once the first two of the women are in the nude, shivering and turning blue — well, an even bluer blue — I bark, “Trade. Take each other’s clothes. Tear bits of yours off and give it to someone else. The more people you can trade with and the more scents you can wear, the better.”

  I tear off strips of my own suit and hand them out to the females. As I reach the leader, I thrust a strip into her hand and ask, “You get what I’m doing here?”

  She grins and nods, her ridges shining a weird funky orange, marred by silver streaks. If I had to guess, I’d say she was excited more than anything. “You are clever. I see now why the Okkari has organized the Mountain Run for you. He wishes to win you. He wishes for you to know that you will be well provided for by your Xiveri mate.”

  She drops her tone and leans forward, but I recoil, unwilling to get too close. Her breath forms clouds as she speaks, shocking and white and hovering between us but only for a blink before the wind steals them away.

  She says, “He has told tales of you. Of how you are a warrior who battled a khrui. I see such tales are not so tall after all. You also honor us now. For with your scent marking us, it will make us desirable to more of the males. It is said you human females are very fertile. Perhaps the males will scent fertility between us, and perhaps, by Xana and Xaneru, it will be so.”

  I bite back the insults on my tongue and the urge to punch her right in the center of her stupid face. The one who pulled me up into a fucking tree like a scarecrow is telling stories about me now? Singing my praise? He has the audacity to run his mouth about me and call me heroic when all he did was destroy who I was? I liked her. I liked her so much better than me, whatever this thing is that exists now.

  “Just take it.” I drop the scrap of fabric between us and thrust away from her, turning to the last woman left. The bitch. “Give me your suit.”

  Her ridges flare black, but I see the hesitation in her gaze.

  “Give me your fucking suit. Your woman here says we don’t have much time. You want the Okkari for yourself, don’t you?”

  “How do you know this?” She rasps.

  I laugh and she winces, though I can’t fault her for it. The sound of my own laughter disgusts even me. It didn’t used to sound like that. It used to be high and light and draw stares from colony boys and smiles from the elders. It used to infect everybody. Now laughter comes out of me as infected as disease, snarling and hacking.

  “I can read your fucking mind,” I tell her, “now give me your suit.”

  She falters. “Humans have such an ability?”

  I roar out my irritation and lunge for her, dragging her suit away by force. She issues a weak scream and lets me take it, putting up no resistance. I don her suit as quickly as I can and watch her try to fit her much longer limbs into mine. Hers bunches up around my elbows and ankles, which would slow me down if I planned to do much running, which I don’t. No running this time. This time when I see him, he’ll know that only one of us will leave this planet alive. Or neither of us. Both options suit me just fine.

  “I’m heading for the swamps. I need to disguise my scent as much as possible. I need two women with me, four need to brave the caves, and four need to head to the trees. They’ll provide the least cover, but are there climbers in this group?” Five of the women raise their hands tentatively.

  “Good. You four will go there. You’ll go to the caves,” I say, pointing to the one I’ve singled out. “I need three more to go with her. Make sure you don’t go in a group with someone whose scent you’re wearing. We need to disperse them, muddle our scents as much as possible. Make it hard.” A few more hands go up. “Fine. That leaves you with me.” I point to the leader and to the one alien who hasn’t spoken yet. The green one. Is it a surprise I’ve chosen to bring her with me? To look out for? I feel my insides crumble at the thought, the tower of swords I’ve built around my shriveled mass of a heart, tottering.

  I look away from the girl, grateful for the leader and the distraction she presents. “Your plan is to hide in the mire?” She says.

  “Just until nightfall. Then I make my way across the forest and to the village. You said there’s a village at the base of the mountain, right?” She confirms and before she can interject whatever miserable tidbit of information she’d like to, I assert, “Then there must be a skyport. Some kind of transportation center to other planets and worlds. I need off this one.”

  “We among the Okkari do not believe in such things,” the bitch snaps, stepping closer to me and my little group. As she does, her tone gentles, “But you were brought here on the Okkari’s private transport. He keeps it here,” she says, pointing to a spot on the map at the end of what looks to be a valley. “It is not far, but you couldn’t seek it out now if you wanted to. This is the way the males will come from. You will need to get there under cover of darkness.”

  “Good,” I tell her.

  Meanwhile, the leader’s face glows an unsettling color — something like pale pink and yellow and a much darker red. She opens her mouth and says something, but the sound is immediately swallowed by the gates creaking as they open. They slide to the side, stone on stone, sounding very much like thunder. A shockingly white world assaults my senses and I step through the crowded females, going to meet it head on. I bark out a few last orders before gathering the leader and the green one and taking off into the white.

  We run and as we run, I understand a new pain. The wind whips my face, cutting into it in a way I’ve never felt wind cut before. It hurts whatever this cold white is, spearing me like the pointed blades of miniature warriors. My whole face feels like it’s bleeding. My lips are swollen, my nose doesn’t stop running. I can taste the disgusting flavor of my own snot whenever I lick my lips. My feet are weighted stones. My lungs burn. I can’t get enough air. This atmosphere is too thin for human lungs and the gravity feels greater. I’ve never felt so heavy.

  The leader looks at me worriedly several times, but I refuse to slow our pace. I thought I was a warrior, but I’m realizing that even if I could outfight either of the females with me, they were born in this place. Or at least they know it like a parent, and they treat it like kin. Even when the white powder falls in our path and we sink into it up to the knees, they just calmly wade through it, like the cold white is nothing more than dry leaves dancing in a summer breeze.
It doesn’t seem to matter to them that we’re going uphill and we’re always going up a fucking hill.

  They call it a Run of the Mountain for a reason.

  The mountain is a bold and treacherous thing, knobby and stark. Mostly cold layered atop stone. There are no trees to be seen in the haze of the thickening storm. It just gets thicker, until I can see less and less of the world around me. Until only the dim vision of a far horizon remains.

  But I can feel the calm of the females beside me, marred only by their excitement when the sky starts to darken and they’re sure the males are on their way. My heart is a spike in my sternum, punching and clawing and biting and shredding as I imagine being caught by him…I promise myself that I’ll fight — that I’ll die — before I let him laugh at me like that again. The memory only amps up my frustration and my determination. I set the pace. I lead them in the direction the leader dictated on the map and for all my human weakness, I am the first of us to reach the mire.

  It looks like a living thing — the only thing we’ve come across that isn’t white. Instead, it’s pink, a color that on the human colony would be considered unnatural. Moving slightly, it bubbles in some places. I avoid those as I wade into it up to the waist and am pleasantly surprised that it’s warm.

  “What is this?” I say, scooping up a handful of the stuff and letting it plop from my gloves to rejoin the rest. Steam spits from the thick mud around me in some places, while around the entire mire, it rises to meet the cold white to create a white world with no end. There is no sky. Nothing beyond this mire, this moment.

  I try to keep my arms out of the pink goo. The effort is useless and reminds me of something. Helping my grandfather knead dough as he tells me a story. It’s hot by the ovens, even under the shade, but I’m enrapt as he tells me his tale about a man who once tried to push a boulder up a mountain only to keep slipping back again. The boulder was too heavy for him.

  I was too young then to understand the point of the story, but I was horrified when my grandfather told me that eventually the man got his insides pecked out by crows, or maybe he was burned by the sun, or maybe that was somebody else. All I remember is that I never, ever wanted to be like him.