The Alien's Virgin: An Alien SciFi Romance (Chief of Kurah)

by Morgan Rae

  “Yes,” he says, that boyish grin lingering on his mouth. “You should be envious of Swing. She is the one true love of my life.” His expression softens suddenly and he cups my face. He tangles his fingers in my wild hair. I play along and mewl playfully as I turn my face into his palm. “At least,” he continues, “she was the one, before you fell into my arms.”

  I swallow hard, but now it has nothing to do with a dry mouth. When he says things like that, my heart tremors with fear and something else. The curve of his scruffy jaw, the deep marks of his tattoos, those sincere and loyal eyes those hands that touch me like I’m the most important thing in the world all make me want to scream those three important, life changing words.

  I love you. I want to grab him by the face and repeat them, over and over and over again.

  But then my bubble bursts and I am just a small woman crushed underneath a man with unrealistic expectations. I’m vulnerable in the wake the earth-shattering sex and the backs of my eyes begin to burn. My voice trembles slightly when I say, “Would you hypothetically still feel the same even if I wasn’t your Goddess?”

  His eyebrows knit. He cups my face in his hand and says, “You are my Goddess.”

  “Yeah.” I turn my head and look away from him. The realization is like swallowing a stone. When he finds out the truth about me, it’s going to break his heart.

  The moment snaps when the tent door flutters open and Leyana steps halfway in. I scramble quickly to cover myself wrapping my arms around my breasts with a yelp.

  Garock doesn’t even budge. He seems incredibly blasé about the whole thing, like it’s totally a natural occurrence to walk in on two people fucking in a tent. And, sure, maybe it is here, but while he remains cool cucumber, my face gets so hot that I know I must resemble a pomegranate.

  Leyana regards us without question and says, “Chief, a word when you get a moment.”

  “Wait outside,” Garock says. “I’ll be right there.”

  Leyana gives us a curt nod. “Yes, Chief,” she says before she vanishes back out of the tent as quickly as she came in.

  Garock shifts over me and detangles his limbs from mine. “The work of a Chief never ends,” he says with a tinge of remorse to his words.

  “That’s a good thing, right? Means your people trust you.”

  “Their spirits have been fragile as of late with the battle that rages between our clan and Faron’s men.” He turns to me and his eyes lock on mine. He’s back with me now. Connecting. “Will you be alright here?”

  I lie with a nod and a half smile. “I’m fine. I have to clean up again. Go.”

  Garock brushes my cheek and tilts in, resting his forehead briefly against mine. The gesture looked strange when he did it with the other Kurah before, but now I understand the appeal of it. It’s grounding somehow, safe, and my anxiety melts off of me like snowflakes, warm in his embrace.

  “I will return soon,” he says as he peels away and tugs his leather straps back on. A very, very selfish part of me wants him to say hell with it all and just stay with me. But he can’t do that. He’s important. His people rely on him. And what am I?

  I’m a distraction. A fake Goddess wasting his time.

  I watch as he redresses himself. His ass looks tasty enough to take a bite out of and I’m disappointed when he covers it up. The muscles on his back ripples as he adjusts the leather strap across his chest. He puts his axe on last, strapping it to his back. Lastly, he runs his fingers through his thick hair, twists it around his hand, and fixes it back into a sloppy bun. I’m far more aroused by that than I should be.

  “Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go,” I yammer out, like an idiot.

  He glances over his shoulder at me, shoots me a confused look, but then girns. “You’ll want to dress yourself before I return,” he says, “Or I will be forced to ravish you again.”

  I bit my lip and can’t help but smile. “Is that a promise?”

  “Yes.”

  For a second, there’s a glimmer of hope that blossoms over my chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe he’ll be able to see past the whole not a Goddess thing and love me for who I am. An ordinary, if not flaky, girl with her head in the clouds, a huge imagination and a huge heart, ripe for the plucking. Ripe for him.

  I’m hopelessly addicted to him, aren’t I?

  The tent flutters behind Garock as he slips out of it. My nerves are fluttering around in my chest, ruining my perfect afterglow of the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life. I try to quiet them by picking the washcloth out of the basin and cleaning the sweat and stickiness from my body.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: GAROCK

  I do not want to leave the tent. The wine-sharp scent of my lover lingers in the room and she’s flushed and breathless in all the ways I want to cherish. I want to spend the rest of the day memorizing her. Furthermore, there is a distance in her eyes I cannot comprehend. I want to meet her there, in the far off place where her vision drifts.

  But my clan needs me. And so, still fresh with sweat and my Goddess’s wetness, I exit the tent to find Leyana. She is waiting just outside the tent with her arms crossed. Her twin daggers glint on either side of her belt, but even those do not look as sharp as the frown on her mouth.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I have spoken with the Seer,” she says. “He is ready to see her.”

  My jaw tightens. “I told you, I do not need a Seer to tell me what I already know.”

  “And what if she isn’t a Goddess?” Leyana’s eyes lock sharply on mine. “Faron has used his Dreamgift to trick us before. What if she is another Selith trick? She looks more like one of them than one of us. Why would our Goddess choose such a weak form?”

  “She is not Selith!” My anger flares hotter than I expect and my Kaul activates unintentionally, my markings lighting up a fierce white. Those around us become quiet and I feel their eyes on us.

  Leyana, however, is not intimidated. Her own Kaul hums with white light and she doesn’t turn away from my eyes. “If you truly believe that, then prove it,” she says. “Send her to the Seer.” When I do not respond immediately, she adds, her voice sharp as a blade, “Or would you let this woman cloud your judgment?”

  “I will decide what is right.” I am troubled by her accusations and my anger. I need to keep my Kaul under control. I long for my Spirit Tree, now in ashes. I long for the grounding effects of mediation, the spiritual healing of prayer that the Spirit Tree gave me. I want to feel the root dirt between my fingers and find my inner peace once more.

  Leyana says nothing, but there is doubt in her eyes. When I turn my gaze away from her, I see the same expression on the faces of my people.

  “Return to your posts,” I tell them. “There is nothing to see here.”

  They obey, scattering. Leyana is the last to leave my side. She sends me off with a parting look before she slips around the tent and vanishes out of sight.

  There is disquiet in my chest. I turn around and push the tent flap aside, returning inside. Kennedy dressed herself in a loose dress the color of sand with braids twisted around the lining. She has tied a belt around her middle so the soft fabric hangs off of her curves nicely. I have a hard time keeping my eyes off of her.

  “You’re dressed,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “I took your advice and rummaged around the chest.”

  I nod and sit down beside her.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks. There is a worried pitch in her voice. I am certain she knew we were talking about her.

  I cannot lie to her. “They are concerned,” I say.

  “Oh.” She goes quiet for a moment, but it is a frenzied quiet. “About me?”

  I turn to look her in the eyes. “Would you consent to see our Seer?”

  “Seer?” she echoes the word unfamiliarly.

  I nod. “He is connected to the Spirit World. He would…” I stop my tongue. The act of voicing doubt to my Goddess’s f
ace sends shame through me. “If he saw you, perhaps…” My neck grows hot. I cannot find the words to continue.

  I feel a soft touch and look up to find her hand on my arm. “Would it end the fighting between you and your tribe?”

  I am reluctant. “My tribe’s conflicts are my own.”

  “Would it help?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Then, yes. I’ll see this Seer.”

  A wave of warm relief washes through me. I press a hard kiss to my Goddess’s lips. She squeaks in surprise but then sinks into my kiss. Her lips are soft and warm and part against mine when she smiles.

  “You’ve gotten good at that.” She’s breathless. Her green eyes sparkle and the need to take her stirs in me once more.

  “Are you sure you don’t want another go?” I ask.

  Her smile stretches wider. “I couldn’t take it.”

  “You’re stronger than you know,” I tell her, however, I do not push the matter. Instead, I catch her small chin between my thumb and forefinger and bestow another small kiss on her rosebud lips. She curls into me like a small cat.

  My faith tells me to stay strong for her, but there are nettles in my heart. Her breath patters against my chest and I know my faith for this woman goes deeper than her divine being. I care for her. I care for her in a way I have never cared for even my own clan. She is the air in my lungs and, whatever the Seer says, I know I will do anything to protect her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: KENNEDY

  It’s hard to see it at first, but there’s a hierarchy to the tent system in the Kurah camp. At first, I thought their tents were haphazardly scattered, everyone simply sleeping where they fell. The closer I look, the more I see a near military structure to their society. There is order in what at first seemed little more than controlled chaos. There is status in the height of the tents. Garock’s tent, for example, stands tall in the center of the campsite to mark his status as Chief. The size of his tent is rivaled only by the Seer’s tent. We have to wind through tents and bodies to get to the Seer, who is situated on the edge of the camp on a slightly elevated spot of land.

  Garock leans over my shoulder and says, “The Seer must live on higher ground so he can be close to the stars.”

  “That excuse must never get old,” I murmur. “Hey, bellboy, I need the penthouse suite, I’ve got to be closer to the stars.”

  He gives me a look like I’m talking gibberish, but instead of asking me for the origins of the word bellboy, he hooks an arm around my back and pecks his lips once against mine. If it was intended to shut me up, it works, and when I see he’s smiling, I can’t help but smile, too. He’s almost possessive in the way he touches me in front of his clan, as though he means to rub his scent all over me so they all know I belong to him. Their distrustful gazes are enough for me to turn a shade of red and detach myself from Garock, trying to focus my attention ahead.

  There’s a boy standing outside the Seer’s tent. I say boy, but the only thing boyish about him is his short stature and youth-plump cheeks. The teen stands stoically, unmoving in front of the animal hide flap. To see tattoos on someone so young is jarring, but I remind myself they’re not inked tattoos, he was just born that way. The markings curl like smoke under his tightly clenched jaws as he clutches a spear, ready to defend the Seer. I might be the same height as he is, more or less, but I for one wouldn’t mess with him.

  Garock, of course, has a permanent hall pass, being Chief and all, and when we approach, he doesn’t bat an eye. But then again, maybe he never bats an eye, like the Queen’s guard.

  On one side of the entrance stands a smoothly polished stone bowl. In the bowl is a black mixture of what, I’m not sure. Crushed berries would be my first guess, but when Garock dips a finger and smudges a dot between his eyes, it sticks to him more like tar. Leyana mirrors his gesture as Garock moves beside me and rubs the tar left from his thumb to my forehead. “To help connect your spirit with the skies,” he says.

  “How do I look?” I ask trying to deflate some of the tension. Garock smiles, then dabs some of the left over smudge onto the tip of my nose.

  “The Seer will see you now,” the boy says with such hoarse authority it startles me. He stares off to nothing in particular, his face a mask.

  “Come,” Leyana says, her eyes fluttering over me as she tugs me along. The rest of the tribe surrounds us. They are incredibly quiet and I can feel everyone is on pins and needles now waiting to see what the Seer has to say. As Garock steps up, he calls the boy by name and gives his shoulder a playful pat and shove. The boy’s composure cracks and, when he smiles, he looks for a moment like a kid again.

  In that moment, I understand why Garock’s tribe is so loyal to him. For a warrior chief, he has a disarmingly big heart. He fights hard and he loves harder. And he chose me. I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around that well.

  Well, at least, he did choose me, back when he thought I was a Goddess. When the Seer doesn’t tell him when he wants to hear, what then?

  My heart is jack rabbiting in my chest. I’m suddenly so nervous I think I might be sick. Right before we break into the flap of the tent, I grab Garock’s arm. “Garock,” I say. He slows to a stop beside me. “Just whatever he says, Goddess or not Goddess…the thing is, I just want you to know—”

  Garock catches the back of my head in his hand. My words die on my tongue and I blink up at him.

  “Do not be nervous,” he encourages me. “Open yourself to him. He will see your truth, just as I have.”

  I want to believe him, but I feel like a lamb being led into a butcher shop with the promise that there will be green, rolling pastures on the other side.

  Hold your chin up, I tell myself. Keep your shoulders straight. Don’t let them see you shake.

  Leyana lifts the tent flap and I step inside. The first things that hits me is the smell. The air is thick with incense and a heavy lavender scent mixed with sharp thyme. It fills my chest and makes me cough. I blink away the water in my eyes and see the dried herbs that hang from the tent top.

  A man sits on the rug before a shrine. He’s older, wrinkles crinkling his forehead, and thick dreadlocks hang like ropes from his head. Black tar smudges a line on his forehead and two extra lines are drawn under his cheekbones like bold war paint. His head is bowed when Garock and Leyana enter, but he looks up when I come in. His eyes are piercing blue, almost white, and a chill runs through me. It’s as though he sees right through me.

  I wave. I don’t know what else to do. “Hi,” I say.

  “Seer.” Garock steps in and bows his head in respect.

  “Chief Garock.” The Seer speaks slowly. “What have you brought me?”

  I answer before Garock does. I don’t want to be a fly on the wall when deciding my fate. “Kennedy Davis,” I announce. “From Earth. I came in through your Spirit Tree. There was a hole between our worlds, I fell through and now I’m here.”

  “She is our Goddess,” Garock claims firmly.

  The Seer looks me over from head to toe. “The bones will decide that,” he says. He then tilts his chin towards the floor in front of him. “Sit, Kennedy. Chief Garock, you may leave.”

  I can feel Garock’s hesitation to leave me alone and he gives me a second glance. I give him a reassuring nod, trying to tell him, and me, that I’ll be fine.

  He seems to get the message, but he still tells me, “I will be right outside.”

  He’s like a large, overly protective dog, reluctant to leave my heels. It is comforting to know he’s within throwing distance, but as I steel myself off, I know I can handle this. Alone with the Seer now, I meet his eyes. He doesn’t scare me.

  “Good,” the Seer says suddenly. “I should not scare you.”

  “So you can read my mind?” I sit down across from him and cross my legs in a pretzel.

  “No. The Selith are the only ones with the Dreamgift. I can only read your aura.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “You
are the color of dawn sky. You are unafraid of judgment.”

  “I already know what you’re going to say,” I tell him. “I know I’m not the Goddess that Garock wants me to be. I’m not afraid of that. I’m afraid of what comes after.”

  “Then let’s not waste time.” He lifts a mug beside him. He takes a sip from the clear liquid inside of it and hands it over to me. “Drink,” he says.

  “Oh, no, no thank you, I don’t do psychedelics.” He stares at me and his stony look tells me that there’s no room for argument. “No, okay, yeah. That’s cool. Bottoms up.” I take the mug and swallow. It’s not bad, like minty water. Good, actually. I take an extra sip.

  The Seer stares at me. His expression doesn’t change, but I get the impression he’s judging me. I hand the mug back over. “Thanks.”

  “What is it you want to ask of the Gods?” The Seer asks. His voice is low, like cold river stones.

  “Well, it’s for Garock, really. He wants to know whether or not I’m really a Goddess.”

  The Seer doesn’t blink. “Your intention must be pure,” he says. “You cannot ask for someone else. You must ask for yourself.”

  “Okay. I feel like I can level with you, because you can read my mind and all anyway—”

  “Aura.”

  “—Right, and the thing is, I’m just not Goddess material. I’m not elegant or lofty or worthy of worship. I’m just your average single white girl from Nowheresville.”

  The Seer’s eyelids flutter briefly as he considers this. “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “there is more to you than meets the eye.”

  “I don’t even have special powers or anything, like Garock with his Kaul. I can’t fight, I can’t read minds, and I can’t summon spirits. My best superpower is probably my ability to binge watch an entire series in a night.”

  “Strength is not always in the mind,” he says. “Sometimes, it is in here.” He presses his fingertip to the side of my forehead. “Or here.” He flattens his palm against my chest, over my heart. “On Earth, you were nothing. Your whole life has been building for this moment here. You were meant to bring our people something that we did not have before.”