by Morgan Rae
When he says it like that, something clicks into place for me. I do have a whole litany of talents that are specific to Earth and no one on this planet has besides me. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like I had nothing to contribute. Maybe I am here for a reason. Maybe I can help these people in some not-to-small, significant way.
“Okay,” I say, “I’m ready to ask.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: GAROCK
Leyana and I stand watch outside the Seer’s tent. We are not alone. The Seer’s answer will affect all of us and many Kurah have come out to see whether or not she will be named a Goddess. They stand outside in droves and stare at us, waiting for answers.
Leyana steps closer to me and drops her voice to a murmur. “You know, if he names her a false god, they will tear her apart,” she says.
“I will not let that happen.”
“You may not have a choice, Chief.”
My jaw sets. I understand her concern. For so long, my people have only known black or white. We only know friends and enemies and nothing in between. If she is not one of us, she is one of them, that is how they will see her. I understand, but I know better. I know that there is more to my Goddess. I know that she will save us all if we give her the chance.
“I am with you,” Leyana continues, “Just try not to do anything stupid.”
Her answer surprises me, but I see the fire in her eyes. She will hold them off if I have to make a hasty retreat with my Goddess to keep her safe. Her trust and loyalty warms my heart and I nod. “Thank you,” I tell her.
“Pray your Goddess knows what she’s doing,” Leyana says and adverts her eyes back to the swelling, uneasy crowd before us.
My listless fingers find Swing hanging from my belt. I touch her handle and she glows in response. I am here if you need me, she whispers.
I pray it does not come to that and glance back at the tent. Smoke rises from the top and, inside, I see two silhouettes sway.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: KENNEDY
“The asking will commence.” The Seer lifts a small velvet bag from his shrine, undoes the tie, and dumps a pile of tiny, white bones in his hand. He cages them in between both of his hands, shakes them up like dice at a casino, and says, “We present ourselves to the Gods above.” The bones jangle and clack together in his hands. “Tell us, wise ones, have you sent one of your beloved sisters to us?”
He tosses the bones to the rug in front of him. Tiny vertebrae and femurs puddle together. He studies them carefully for a long while, using a stick from his shrine to poke the bones around. My heart hammers in my chest and I realize I’m truly on edge waiting for his answer. I need to know, my fate depends on it.
“The bones say…” he draws out his pause and I feel like I’m on a game show, waiting in feverish sweat to know if I’ve won a brand new Cadillac. His eyes flicker up to mine now and his irises are milky white. “You are the Goddess we have been waiting for.”
My heart stills. What? I’m confused, stunned, and… vindicated. My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I suddenly feel stronger than I have in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, I do have a reason for being here. Maybe I’m meant for more than waiting tables and daydreaming. Maybe here I can do some good.
“Are you sure?” I whisper but he reaches out and touches his finger to my forehead before tapping his own forehead. It’s such a reverent gesture that it quiets me completely.
“The Gods are with us,” he intones and then stands. “Come,” he says. “We must tell the Tribe.”
I follow on jelly legs. When I step outside, I realize a crowd has formed outside our tent and I’m immediately overwhelmed. There has to be tens, maybe a hundred of serious faces staring at me from hulking, marked up bodies. I’m vastly outnumbered, but for the first time, I’m not afraid. If anything, a warm calm fills my chest and gives me the confidence to raise my chin up high.
“Tribesman,” the Seer barks out through his harsh voice. “We have a Goddess among us!”
All eyes turn to me and instantly go wide. There’s a rush towards me and they all reach out to repeat the gesture that the Seer made in the tent—fingers to my forehead, fingers to their forehead. They murmur praises like “Goddess be with us.” I, for one, can’t stop smiling. I know I should be stoic or strong, but I can’t peel this smile off of my face. Even Leyana reaches out and taps her fingers to my forehead and then to hers. “Welcome home, Goddess,” she says. For the first time since my parents died, I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like I’m home.
Garock is beside me and when my eyes meet his, he looks incredibly proud of me. He cups the back of my head and brushes his forehead against mine. I want to grab him in and hold him there but I resist temptation. “I knew it,” he murmurs to me and then straightens up.
“Kurah,” he calls out to his people, his voice as loud as thunder. “We have a Goddess among us!”
The Kurah roar and bellow out their sounds of approval. The cacophony is so loud that I think even people on Earth must hear it. I laugh as my heart swells in my chest.
“Now is the time to take back what is ours!” Garock continues and he gets a few more roars of approval. “For too long, the Selith have slaughtered and controlled our people. They intend to rule us all with their Dreamgift and have us bowing to their every whim. Our tribe is strong. With the Goddess at our side, we will defeat Faron and the Selith once and for all and dislodge their hold on our planet!”
Now the bellowing has reached a deafening din as the Kurah go positively crazy for that. Their markings light up, they shout out war cries, and lift their weapons high up to the sky as a show of unity.
Just like that, my good mood bubble pops. I want to make a change, a good change. I don’t want to be the face of some ill-advised war between two races. As the Kurah shout and cry out all around us, I touch Garock’s shoulder to get his attention. He leans down and I whisper, “Can we talk about this first?”
He nods and his hand falls to the small of my back before he turns to his people to give them some last words. “Prepare yourself! I will be there with you, fighting side by side. Kurah!”
They respond with chants of Kurah! Chief Garock! Goddess! But now that anxiety is coming back in full force, curling so tightly around my stomach I feel nauseous. I grab Garock’s arm and nearly drag him to the side. We slip out of the crowd and I just start walking, blindly. I don’t know where I’m going exactly, all I know is that I’ve crossed the threshold of the campsite and now I’m weaving through thick-bodied trees. My feet stomp fallen twigs and dried, crunchy leaves.
“Where are you going?” I hear Garock call out behind me, but I don’t stop. I just keep walking. Finally, he grabs my arm and pulls me to a swift halt. “You should not leave camp on your own.”
“Why?” I counter. Even I’m surprised by the sharpness in my voice. “All you do is tell me how dangerous this and that is when, really, you’re the one who jumps at the first opportunity to fight.”
His eyebrows knit in confusion, even if his eyes are still battle-hungry. “Have I offended you?”
“Yes. I’m not going to be part of this, this fighting. I don’t condone it. I don’t want to be involved.”
“What do you want?” His eyes search mine. He is genuinely looking for answers. Only now, I’m speechless. I don’t have answers.
“You take my name in vain when you put it in your war chants,” I chastise. My eyes don’t leave his. He might be a good head taller than I am, but I hold all the cards. When it comes to his safety, I won’t bend.
There’s a flicker of color in his eyes as he watches me. “Is that so?” He takes a step forward and I can smell his deep, earthy musk. “Then perhaps I should put my tongue to better use.”
I want to protest, I want to fight him, but my mouth goes dry. He kisses me and presses his tongue inside, curling it around my own. My thoughts scatter and my breath catches as I lean in closer and grip his shirt tightly. I’m a bundle of energy, my e
motions already wound up from earlier, and I can feel it in him too, the same pent up energy. I don’t quite have words for what I’m feeling, this ecstatic, nervous energy, but words don’t matter here, not when I start ripping the buttons from his tunic. He does the same to my dress, peeling the ties at the back and ripping it down my legs. I’m wearing nothing underneath and he leaves the fabric in a puddle on the ground before he lifts me up in his arms, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips.
“I want you,” he says, his voice husky with lust. “Would you let me ravish every inch of you with my lips?”
“Yes,” I whimper. I’m completely naked , but I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I feel powerful now that I know the effect my body has on Garock. He craves me exactly as I am and that gives me a rush like nothing before.
His hands cup my bare ass and even through the layers of leather I feel him growing hard between his legs. I kiss him again, hard, unable to get enough of his soft lips or the scruff of his beard on my cheeks.
Garock lifts me higher, and I squeak when he gets my legs up around his shoulders. I bend over and clutch his hair and shoulders, feeling unsteady, but his hands are on my back and he says, “I will not let you fall. Reach up.”
I feel unbalanced, but I eventually reach up and my fingertips find a tree branch. I secure one hand on it and then the other. It’s a high branch and my body is taut as I hang off of it, most of my weight sitting on his shoulders. He exhales and his hot breath beats against my sex; he’s so close. I’m tempted to wiggle in closer, but I focus on clinging to the branch above me in order to steady myself.
My hands are trapped above me and I’m at his mercy as he parts my legs, cups my bottom like a bowl in his hands, and nestles his face between my thighs.
He makes me feel both worshipped and helpless at the same time and it turns me on like nothing else. Exposed like this, the crisp morning breeze catches on my breasts and tummy and my nipples tighten into hard little peaks. Meanwhile, his breath is warm against me and his nose parts my folds. Once he starts licking me, I’m done for. Each swipe of his tongue is rough like a cat’s but hungry, as though he can’t get enough of me. He tastes every bit of me, licking, sucking my nectar, nibbling my swollen, aching flesh. I don’t know how he has my sex drive on overdrive, but I’m pent up suddenly, and every one of his touches makes my abdomen clench and my body shudder.
His hot tongue envelopes my sensitive little nub and my legs tighten around his head and tremble. I moan loudly and my fingers tighten around the tree branch. Clearly sensing he hit the jackpot, his tongue lingers there and starts to flick my hard, swollen clitoris. Each swipe of his tongue sends hot lightning bolts of pleasure up and down my body, making me burn with need. I cry out and my hips push forward, rocking against his face, loving the way he works me. His scruffy beard tickles my inner thighs and makes every part of me light up.
“Oh my god, Garock,” I say fervidly. “Just like that…right there.”
I’m in heaven. His tongue has me constantly on the edge of ecstasy and I squirm on his shoulders. I can’t focus on anything but his mouth as his tongue lashes pleasure through me like a whip. Each hit grows more and more intense until I feel like I might not be able to take it anymore. His hands grip me tightly, locking me into place. My arms are starting to shake with the effort of holding myself up, but I’m too far gone to even feel the ache in my biceps. All I can focus on is the way he presses his tongue deep inside of me, fucking me on the tip of his tongue, and I completely lose it.
I cry out loudly and my heels dig tightly into his back as I crash over the edge. His moan vibrates through my sensitive flesh as he drinks me in for everything I’m worth. I’m pulsing, throbbing, my hips twisting and jerking as my body is wracked with the throes of my orgasm, but he holds me tightly in place and forces me to ride it out on the tip of his tongue. I’m momentarily blinded by the power of the pleasure that ricochets through my body like a pinball as I try to catch my breath. My arms tremble with effort to keep my body up, my thighs shiver with the onslaught of Garock’s tongue, and still he doesn’t stop until he’s collected every drop of me on his tongue.
He says something, but I can't hear it for the blood pounding in my ears.
"Let go of the branch." His words come in loud and clear this time and I obey, releasing the tree. My fingers feel stiff from clinging so tightly, when I drop my arms at my sides they fall like limp noodles.
Garock lowers me down and I slide into his arms, where he cradles me to him. His beard glistens and I can't help but grin. "You've got something," I say as I rub my juices from his mouth. "I'm all over you."
"I like you there," he says. He peels off his leather jacket and drapes it over me. It swallows me completely and I clutch it tightly. "Come," he says. "Let's go back to camp."
I'm useless. I don't feel like moving, I don't feel like doing anything except letting him carry me. I'm exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I don't bother fighting him when he decides to carry me back to the tent. One of the perks of being a Goddess, right? It's okay to get spoiled.
Garock takes me back to my tent, all the while covered in his jacket. I feel like some hunting trophy when he lowers me down gently. We're not alone. T-Bone comes bounding up to me and starts licking my face. I laugh, a giggle that starts low in my throat and then spreads. "I missed you too, buddy," I tell him as he wags his little tail rapidly and pounces on my face. The dog has no concept of personal space.
I hug him to my chest as Garock refills his water bowl. It's not just a regular dog bowl either, it's nice, looks like something I wouldn't mind drinking out of. "If I'm the Goddess," I ask, "Does that make T-Bone Goddess-dog?"
"I think the Goddess gift is spoiled enough, don't you?" Once he finishes refilling the bowl, T-Bone goes prancing to it and hastily slops it down.
I clutch his jacket like a blanket. "I'm cold," I say. Now that my adrenaline is winding down, I can feel my teeth start to chatter.
Garock immediately begins to take off his clothes. His strips the straps of his tunic and then shoves it down his legs. Fully exposed in all his glory, he does, admittedly, warm me up. He settles in behind me and wraps his arm around me, pulling my naked body flush against his. "Body heat," he says.
His skin is incredibly warm and I push my back up against him to drink in his heat. His strong arms hold me to him like a seatbelt, and I'm more than happy to be pinned against that incredible body. I shift slightly and make no accident of rubbing my rear against his groin. His organ stirs against my body, but even now, he’s not needy. He doesn’t paw at me and beg for a little affection, like my roommates have complained about from their guys. No, he simply holds me close, enveloping me in his strong arms and muscled chest, and presses the smallest, sweetest kiss to my shoulder. The prickliness of his beard on my exposed skin sends a shudder through me.
I twist around so we’re facing each other, chest to chest. I pull back a little to say, “Let me get a good look at you.” His long hair flows down his back and I twist a strand in my finger before dropping my hand to his shoulder. The black marks start up at his collar bone and curve downward, like spikes, and I trace them with my fingers.
“Where you born with these?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “Though they stay inactive until our first bond.”
“You mean your bond with Swing?”
“Yes. The moment a Kurah bonds with his weapon is a moment he becomes a true warrior.”
My fingers come to a halt at a ridge of skin, an old scar badly healed over. “You have a lot of scars,” I whisper.
“Swing has guided me through a lot of fights.”
“She should do a better job of taking care of you,” I say with a grin. I’m teasing, kind of. Is it wrong to be jealous of an inanimate object? Garock’s connection to his weapon is different than anything I’ve ever seen before. This is more than a sports car collector obsessed with his Mustang. Garock’s connection to
his axe is spiritual.
Garock, to his credit, smirks right back at me. “That’s what I have you for now,” he says.
“Oh, is that my job?” I laugh. “To take care of you?” I walk my fingers lower, down the rippling muscles of his abdomen, until I reach his cock. I take it in my hand and give him one, slow stroke from base to tip and back down again, my eyes never leaving his all the while.
He’s cool, unshakable, but I’m starting to notice little things I didn’t before, like the way his nose flairs when he inhales sharply and how the muscles in his abdomen clench and tense. There’s a wave of blue fire through his markings and he quickly grows hard in my hand.
“I like the way you touch me,” he murmurs. There’s a light quality to his voice as I continue to stroke him. His soft velvet skin slides through my fingers as he grows iron hard in my hand.
“What if I stopped?” I ask and bite my lip. I don’t know where this coy woman came from, but I like her. It’s easy to talk to him like this somehow. There’s no judgment in his expression, just loyalty, love, and lust.
His dark eyes find my own and his irises burn. “Then I would take you and satisfy myself inside of you, should you permit it.”
“And if I don’t permit it?” I’m crossing a dangerous line but I can’t help myself. My pulse is pounding and feeling him grow in my hand has given me confidence. His cock is straining in my hand, rock hard and beat red, and I squeeze his thick girth, teasing.
His eyes flicker over my body once, hungrily, and when they meet mine again he says, “Then I would get between your legs and lick you once more until you begged me to take you.”
I gasp at that, my own sex buzzing now at the thought, and I get carried away, stroking him faster, harder. His dark eyes grow hazy and he lets out a low growl as I circle my thumb around the head of him, slickening the pad of my finger with the dollop of wetness there.