“You would likely find it just as intolerable,” Vohx answers, walking alongside me, the two of us in the middle of the pack, with the soldiers and Darwin ahead of us, and the two scientists behind us. “The heat and humidity has been known to make aliens like yourselves lose consciousness even with proper equipment.”
“Well shit,” Slate says.
“What I want to know,” Vince continues, “is why you look so goddamned cheerful about this whole situation?”
The question is aimed at me, I notice. “It’s a fascinating planet,” I answer, looking ahead of us at the blue-gray cliffs of a mountain silhouetted against the purple horizon. “Aside from that, the cold has never bothered me. I went to Nursing school in Chicago, had an apartment a few blocks from the Lake. I loved the weather there—especially in winter.”
When I finish speaking, Vohx is staring at me with a strange light in his eyes. A new interest or curiosity; something he wants to mention? He doesn’t say a thing, and I don’t want to ask him about it within earshot of all the others.
“That explains it,” Vince says. “Anyone who doesn’t hate Chicago is insane.”
We keep walking, the men keep grumbling, and Vohx keeps watching me like he doesn’t know what to make of me.
“Tell us more about the planet,” I say, the words for the two of us, as Vince and Slate are getting farther and farther ahead, though they are careful not to get too far, and the scientists have begun to fall behind, their enthusiastic complaints stealing too much of their energy.
“What would you like to know?” Vohx asks.
“Why the extremes in temperature?” I say, without missing a beat.
“It doesn’t rotate,” he answers simply, but then elaborates at my look of confusion. “It sits stationary beside its single sun. This is why we have evolved into both ice dragons and fire dragons, to survive and thrive in our respective environments.”
“Which is why you don’t need cold weather gear,” I conclude with a smile. I look to the half-lit sky, a blush rising on my cheeks at the intense way he looks at me. Whatever he is thinking about, I have no idea, but I get the feeling the alien can see me like I’ve never been seen before, and the thought is new and strange and exciting to my core. “So no rotating means you’re lacking sunrise and sunset?”
“Yes. It grows a bit darker or a bit lighter depending on the direction in which one travels. But the sun does not rise. You cannot even see the sun from here, just a bit of its light reflecting off our moon.”
One thousand more questions rise to my lips, but Vohx stops walking, holding a hand up to stop Richards, Cole, and Darwin behind us. Vince and Slate keep walking. I want to call out to them, but Vohx is being so carefully quiet that it might not be the best idea. The Ice Velorian sniffs the air, his muscles tensing at whatever scent he has caught.
“A pack of waelef is approaching. They likely wish to hunt us.”
His voice is loud enough to reach the soldiers, and they stop in their tracks, hands on their blasters. I see nothing at first, weak human eyes squinting into the blowing snow. But then, after a moment of tense, anticipatory silence, I see four low-to-the-ground shapes moving toward us, sinking into the crouch that many predators adopt before the they leap.
“Stay back,” Vohx says in a voice that is effortlessly commanding. A tone that requires respect; I’ve never heard such a thing from a human man. He twists my insides into knots as he stands up straight, even as his tail zips from left to right in anticipation. “All of you.”
My hand creeps to my own blaster instinctively as Vohx rushes the pack of creatures, their shapes still mere blurs in the increasingly bad weather. I hope I won’t need to use it. My aim is passable, but I seriously doubt my ability to hit a target that isn’t at least relatively stationary. It isn’t until Vohx clashes with the first of the creatures that my vision adjusts enough to see them clearly. They are nearly the same blue-white color of the snow and ice surrounding us, and they blend in well enough that I have trouble tracking their rapid movements. They almost look to be made of the ice itself, with the spikes of their fur appearing as pointed icicles. As Vohx knocks one to the ground, I am surprised when the spikes don’t break on impact. Much like the spines on Vohx’s shoulders, they seemed to be more flexible than they appear. Evolution has made them fit for fighting.
Vohx fights without his blaster, using only his body as a weapon. He tosses the lead waelef away. I watch as it skids across the ice and climbs to its feet again, this time rushing Vohx with the other three waelef in tow, moving as a seamless line of teeth and muscle against their perceived enemy. Vince and Slate have slowly made their way back to the rest of the group, and the scientists, without my notice, have closed the gap as well. It feels safer this way, as though we are a pack of our own. The soldiers keep their blasters trained on the waelef, but they are a whirlwind of teeth and icy fur around Vohx.
“If I try it, I’ll hit him,” Slate says finally, chewing on his lip, face twisting with concentration as he holds out his blaster a bit unsteadily. The wolf-like creatures are as unnerving as they are beautiful, and I understand the unease.
I reach out, not quite putting my hand on his arm. “Wait,” I suggest.
Vohx fights until, by chance or by skill, the waelef are close enough together for him fire off a stunning shot from his blaster. He must have it set to the lowest setting, or else the waelef are far tougher than most humans. They sprint a few feet away, obviously spooked, limping and blinking sluggishly. Vohx turns back to face the rest of our group, showing his teeth in what looks closer to a smile for once than a snarl.
“Aren’t you going to kill them?” Richards asks, anger and confusion in every line of his body. Cole appears the same, while Darwin and the soldiers merely stare, waiting for an explanation.
“No,” Vohx answers. “They were merely hunting to feed their young. There was no malice in their actions—only nature.” The scientists continue to glare, Slate with them. I notice that Darwin still looks torn, but he says nothing to contest Vohx’s words.
We press on for only a while longer, quickly at first, at the insistence of Vohx, who says that the waelef may attack again if their hunger is truly desperate. Even knowing that they would likely die in the attempt, their instincts might drive them to try it once more.
Having already walked a good several miles before our encounter with the waelef, we walk another few afterward, stopping only for short intervals. The men seem frozen. Ahead of me, Slate, too habitually silent to complain with as much vigor as the others, shivers so hard that he seems to blur at the edges, hands stuffed beneath his arms, with hat and scarf arranged so that only his eyes are visible. The rest of our group, save for Vohx and I, are similarly covered. While I am still not feeling the cold so deeply as the men, the prolonged exposure to it soon has me shivering as well, fingers and toes tingling despite the equipment made to keep out the icy chill. If they have been this cold the entire time, then it’s no wonder the morale is growing worse and worse. I catch Vohx’s eye, and he seems to get the hint.
“The chill will grow worse with the height and with nightfall,” he says. “It would be smartest to stop and rest now, and move on in the morning when the worst of it has passed.”
The scientists start to grumble at being ordered around by an alien, but I open my mouth before they have a chance to get too insulting.
“He’s our guide,” I say. “Even if you’ve read everything there is to know about Veloria—which I’m guessing you haven’t—he’s lived here. He knows more.”
Richards and Cole still stare, displeased. Darwin looks at the ground. Some leader he’s turning out to be.
“Guys,” Vince says, placating. “He’s right. The visibility’s shit.”
The two scientists shut up and begin to set up camp, though their eyes are still narrowed as they do it.
“Christ,” I say. “It’s like those guys who won’t stop flirting with you until you invent an imaginary boyfrie
nd. At least they listen to you.”
Vince shrugs. “If it works, it works.”
On the belts that keep our jackets tightly closed, there are small tubes that are supposed to contain collapsible tents. Five of us wear equipment taken from the ship, but two of our belts are empty.
“Fuckers who took the ship out before us didn’t care enough to repack them,” Cole says, and for once, I find myself mirroring his irritation. It was Paulson’s ship. A responsible pilot would have double-checked the essentials in the storage room before heading out on a new mission. Of course, no one had expected a detour to the icy side of Veloria, so perhaps he could be forgiven for not keeping the cold weather gear in order.
The tents are easy enough to set up, but as soon as we’ve eaten a meal in front of a hastily constructed fire, the arguing about who bunks with who commences.
“I will share a tent with Stacy,” Vohx insists. “Use the remaining two however you like. I don’t care about anything else.”
Perhaps I should be annoyed about the decision being made without him consulting me, but at the moment, I’m simply relieved that I’m not sharing with any of the others. I find Slate tolerable and am actually beginning to enjoy Vince’s company, but I’m not sure how much I would like spending the night in the tent with either, or both of them. I don’t offer an alternative arrangement, and instead busy myself with laying out my sleeping bag in the tent. As I work and Vohx scouts the area to make sure that it is indeed safe to sleep here, I overhear a few of the men discussing me in voices that aren’t nearly quiet enough.
“He keeps looking at her,” Cole says.
Vince shrugs. “Think we all know why he wants to share a tent with her,” he laughs. Vince doesn’t seem to take anything terribly seriously, and the words don’t sting when he says them. He even catches me watching and tosses me a wink, as though urging me to share the tent anyway. I snort a small laugh, smothering the sound, and try to go back to work.
Richard’s voice though, is loud enough to puncture my concentration. “It’s fucking disgusting,” he says.
Vince shrugs. “Eh, to each their own,” he says, and Slate laughs.
“This is kinda serious, Vince,” Cole says, looking around at the rest of the men. “Do you think we should get in the way of what he wants?”
“I say stay out of it,” Richards answers. “Girl got herself into this. It’s not our job to get her out. Plus, you really want to make the huge icy fucker mad?”
I look back just in time to see Darwin nod his agreement. I feel my jaw clench in response, skin prickling with anger, a flush coloring my cheeks and neck in response to the words. It would be embarrassing enough to simply overhear them discussing such private matters in my life, but it seems that the majority of the men think I might be in actual danger and plan to do nothing about it. If they truly think that Vohx might harm me, shouldn’t they warn me at the very least? I’m surprised at the slight pang in my chest at the knowledge that they think so little of me. Richards in particular seems to almost enjoy the thought, while Darwin seems to think any harm coming from Vohx would be deserved.
I haven’t done anything to any of them. I wipe away a single frustrated tear, as I turn fully away and climb into my tent. The fabric is military grade, made to keep out the cold, so I slip off my coat as soon as I’m in, knowing that it will not be comfortable to sleep in. It will take a while, I know, for my body heat to reflect in such a manner to warm the interior of the tent, however small the structure, and I’m shivering a bit when Vohx returns from his scouting and enters. I watch in silence, warming quickly at the sight of him, as he situates his own bedroll. As he works, his eyes keep drifting my way. Once he has finished arranging his things, he turns the full force of his attention my way, and I find that I cannot tear my gaze from his. His eyes are bright as the moon outside, intense, and it is almost a relief when he drops them to the floor of the tent and says, “You need to warm yourself. Lie close to me, and I can put my arms around you.”
The relief turns to a mix of desire and apprehension once I realize what he’s said. In another circumstance, I would assume it was an invitation for something else, but Vohx’s tone is strictly professional, carefully distant.
“It’s alright,” I say, testing. “I told you before. I’m not that cold.”
“You’re human. If you’re going to sleep without your coat, then it is my duty as your protector to insist.”
From anyone else, the words would have made me roll my eyes at the obvious ploy to get me into their sleeping bag, but Vohx seems so genuine. Curt, almost. Though I was not freezing like the other humans seemed to be, the air inside the tent was not much warmer than outside just yet, and without my coat I was beginning to feel it.
“Fine,” I say. Vohx lies down on his side on his bedroll, which looks infinitely more comfortable than my flimsy but supposedly warm sleeping bag, and I lie alongside him, my soft curves pressing against his firm angles in places, making my insides glow with an instant tingle I’m not expecting. His arms encircle me, one acting as a pillow for my head, and the other wrapping around my middle and arranging me so that my back and lower half are flush against his front. At first, I only notice the comforting warmth of him so close, but after a moment, I feel the hardness of him pressed against me. I can’t resist the urge to push back, wiggling my butt against him just to see his reaction.
He growls. We are lying so close together that I can feel it reverberate through me.
“It’s ... inappropriate,” he says. “I’m here to save your life, not …”
I turn toward him enough that he can see my smile as I answer. “Does everything have to be serious?”
He sighs. The evidence of his arousal is still against me, the dizzying length of a thick, hard cock—at least that’s my assumption of his anatomy; if it’s really that, it’s more than I could have imagined—not flagging in the least. It emboldens me, sends shivers of arousal through my body, and his gentle hip movements against my butt show how intensely he is trying to stop himself from going further. I feel amazing that I was right about the way he looks at me. At me. This gorgeous, powerful, wonderfully honorable man is this hard because of me.
But when he speaks again, it is heavy with disappointment. In himself; in the situation. “I am here to grant this one favor, before we part ways forever. It’s inappropriate. Because Velorians mate for life.”
Quite abruptly, my desire seems childish. There is a certain romance in the thought of mating for life, like soul mates in a fairytale or an old legend. But there is a bit of apprehension that comes with the thought. How can you possibly know you are choosing the right person?
The silence we fall into is awkward, and I break it as soon as I think of something to say. “That’s interesting, about the mating. I’d like to know more about your people—the Velorians.”
“What would you like to know?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I like history.” I shrug and decide to be fully honest. “I like your voice.”
He lets out a rumble of satisfaction at the compliment, but swallows and rolls away from me just slightly. We are still close enough to share warmth, but not so intimately pressed together as we were. “You know we have yet to be accepted into the Federation. Would you like to know why?”
“I’m assuming it’s not a particularly happy tale,” I say. “But yes, go ahead.”
“We gained space travel too early in our cycle,” he begins. “We were a young species, ambitious and overconfident. We spread ourselves thin throughout this system, trying to gain as much territory as we could for ourselves. We were greedy.” As he speaks, I stare at the roof of the tent, imagining a map of stars against the dark blue surface. The tents are not terribly far from each other, but I cannot hear the sounds of anyone else over the wind.
“A group of aliens called the Xzerg—the race who sabotaged your meeting—picked a fight with us. They ambushed a group of ships on a colonizing mission. We had s
trayed into their territory without realizing it, but still felt that the attack had to be answered, and thought that perhaps we could win a few planets in the process. We sent large numbers of our warriors to do battle with them in open space.”
I don’t know what a battle in space looks like outside of sci-fi flicks, but I picture orange-red bursts of fireworks against the stars I’ve already conjured.
“When the Velorian warriors returned, they had been thoroughly punished for their arrogance. They found that the women and children they’d left on Veloria had been slaughtered in their absence. A surprise attack. A cowardly one.”
“All of them?” I ask, voice quiet, a lump growing in my throat at the thought of so much senseless death.
“Not all,” Vohx says. “But nearly—all those that did not manage to flee or hide. The only men we’d left behind were civilians, too old or sick or unimpressed by battle. They died trying to defend the weak.” He pauses and regards me at length, a glimmer of true interest in his eyes when he takes me in. “Velorian females were and are very small compared to the males. Soft, slow, slender. Human males and females have hardly any differences in comparison. Velorian females are not warriors, but human females are more suited to battling.
I nod. It’s as if he wants me to know I don’t compare to a Velorian female. I could take this as a reason he does not want me, or I could take this as a simple observation—maybe an assurance that he doesn’t believe females like me don’t belong in a war. I’m awed by the story of his people, though, and don’t want to make judgments like that about what he’s saying. I take it all at face value.
“After that, what started as a tussle for territory became a full-blown war. This is why the Federation will not allow us to join. We’re seen as too quick to fight.” He pauses, rolls so that he too is facing the ceiling of the tent. “All we want is to prove that we have learned from our mistakes so many generations ago. We want a chance.”
I warned myself that the tale would likely not be happy, but I am still surprised at the genuine grief that fills me at its conclusion. I feel horrified. It is not the sort of feeling that one gets following a particularly morbid horror film, but rather something deeper. This feels bone deep and leaves me with an ache in my chest that brings tears to my eyes. It feels almost as though it happened to me. I try to blink them back, embarrassed by my reaction, but a few tears escape and slide slowly down my cheeks. Just as I am about to turn away, Vohx’s hand settles on my shoulder and turns me toward him. He looks at the tears, watches them travel downward a few inches before gently wiping them away.
Primal Planet Guardian_SciFi Alien Romance Page 5