by Ruby Dixon
I nod slowly, a strange calm overtaking my body. I give her the I am well hand-talk gesture, and then run my other hand over her arms and legs, checking to make sure she is not wounded in a place I cannot see. She is far more important than me. I am a strong warrior and hunter; I have been wounded in the past and worked through it.
But Li-lah? Li-lah is my fragile, precious mate. No harm must come to her.
When I am satisfied that she is healthy other than the terrible bruise on her face, I take her by the hand, and then stop. She is tired, and it is my duty to take care of her.
I will carry her the rest of the way.
LILA
When Rokan signals that he wants to carry me, I’m pretty sure he’s crazy. I sniff, ignoring the hiccups that are mixing with the purring in my chest. The guy just got half-eaten by a pterodactyl-looking-thing the size of a bus and he wants to carry me?
I resist the urge to fling my arms around him again. I’m just so damn relieved that he’s okay. That he’s whole and alive and smiling at me. I’m shaking with the aftermath of an adrenaline spike, and I’m mad. I’ve had hearing for ten years and I didn’t realize how much I’d come to rely on it until some asshole aliens stole it from me again. I should have known something was off when he turned around. Instead, I had no clue until he flung me to the ground, face first. I smacked into a rock and when I hit, my first thought was shock that he’d hurt me. Then, utterly crushed because I’d thought all wrong about him. Then I looked up just in time to see the awful beast swallow him and his spear.
I think I screamed. A lot. Rokan and the creature skidded several feet away, flinging snow everywhere. There was blood all over the place and the creature was thrashing, and I could see one of Rokan’s legs sticking out of its mouth, and no one was getting up.
I didn’t know what to do.
I still don’t know what to do.
Over and over, this place keeps making me feel like a helpless, hand-wringing princess in need of a rescue. And I am really not a fan of that.
Starting now, I’m going to be a self-rescuing princess. “I can walk,” I tell him, and take a step forward. My knees buckle, and my entire body starts shaking. I’m on the verge of crying, again. It’s shock. Of course it is. I just watched the guy I have a crush on get eaten by a flying monster.
He scoops me up into his arms like I’m nothing, and carries me just like the princess I didn’t want to be.
Okay, starting tomorrow I’ll be a self-rescuing princess. That sounds good. Today, I’ll shiver and be a wimp for a little longer. I’ll burrow in the hero’s arms and let him take care of me.
Just until tomorrow.
Rokan doesn’t carry me for long. Just like he pointed out, we head for the distant cliff and there, tucked away in the rock wall, is another small cave. This entire planet seems to be nothing but snow, rock, and more snow, so I guess it’s not surprising that rethere are a bunch of caves. He sets me gently on my feet and instead of making me wait outside the cave this time, he puts my knife in my hand, grips his last knife in his own hand, and we go into the cave together.
It’s completely dark and I can’t hear a thing, so I’m relieved when he gives my arm a gentle pat and steers me toward the cave wall. I wait there, and a few moments later, there’s a spark of fire in the fire pit. I wait patiently as he builds the fire and then sits up, indicating that I can come join him.
I move to sit next to him and watch as he sets up his cooking tripod over the fire and takes the pouch to go collect snow. “I can do that,” I say aloud, and then sign it when he looks in my direction.
He shakes his head and gestures that I should stay sitting by the fire. I do so, but it’s irking me a little. Is this a control thing? Is this how he handles the trauma of being nearly eaten? Because I’m all shaky and freaked out, and he’s completely chill. It’s weird. You’d think I was the one that got eaten by the way he’s acting.
Rokan puts the pouch over the fire and peels his furs off, then helps me peel mine. He seems to take more care over my appearance than his, examining my hurt cheek over and over again with a distressed look on his broad face.
It’s okay, I sign.
He shakes his head. No okay.
You nearly got eaten, I want to scream at him. How does he not understand how much this affects me? If he gets eaten, I’m lost. I won’t find Hassen, or my sister, or anyone. I won’t know how to feed myself or build the fire or anything.
I won’t have anyone that will make me purr or smile at me. I won’t have a big alien with curling horns, a glorious chest, and who tries so hard to learn American Sign Language because he’s desperate to talk to me. I won’t have anyone that tries to make me smile even when I want to cry, or anyone that will fuss over my stupid bruise after he nearly got eaten.
I don’t know why or how Rokan became so important to me, but he did, and I have to fight the urge to fling my arms around him again. Instead, I clasp my hands tight and sit by the fire, my mouth pursed in frustration.
I watch as he tugs off the last of his tattered, blood-stained furs and reveals his bare chest. He’s just as dirty underneath all the layers, which is kinda surprising. I guess the creature chewed him good. Just thinking about that makes me a little ill.
He leans over the water pouch to see if it’s melted, and then gets out the dipper from his bag and offers it to me.
Is he serious? Are you serious? I sign, even though I know he doesn’t get it. Then, because he’s waiting, I sign something he will recognize. You. Wash.
He scowls at me and pushes the dipper in my direction again, then gestures. Drink.
Why is he trying to take care of me? I’m not the one that was nearly eaten by a monster. I resist the urge to slap the dipper out of his hand because the water shouldn’t be wasted. I’m frustrated, though. Here I am worried about him and he wants to take care of me? That’s nonsense.
It’s clear from the stubborn look on his face that we’re not going to get anywhere if I put up a fuss, though. So I take the dipper, drink it as fast as I can, and then offer it back to him.
He sets it down and then indicates that I should sit. When I do, he immediately comes over and kneels in front of me. I watch in surprise as he pulls my boots off, because I’m not sure where this is going.
Then, he starts to rub my feet.
I jerk away from him, and he looks up in surprise at the same time. I must have made a noise when he touched me. My chest is purring like no tomorrow and I’m feeling all hot and bothered just from that brief brush of his fingers over my feet. This feels wildly inappropriate, though, especially given he’s still covered in blood after saving my life. No, I sign. You wash.
The look on his face is devastated, like he’s done something wrong. He shakes his head and tries to take my foot in his hand again. It’s clear he wants to take care of me. It’s sweet, but it’s also awfully out of place at the moment. I shake my head again and touch his arm. “Rokan. I’m fine. Really. Please go wash and take care of yourself. I’m worried about you and it would make me feel better to see you take care of yourself.” I push a lock of his long, dirty hair back off his face.
He stills, eyes closing, as if my touch is the best thing he’s ever felt.
That hot flutter returns to my belly and I have the strangest urge to run my hands all over his half-naked body, filth and all. Man, I have been just the horniest lately. It’s not like me. There must be something about Rokan that gets me all fired up. But I’m pretty okay with that? I mean, I really like him. There’s something about his attentiveness and his sweet personality that charms me, for all that he’s built like the Hulk’s blue brother.
Then he opens his eyes again and gives me another heated look that makes my toes curl.
Wash, I sign again. Because it’s easier to push him away than to unpack what I’m feeling right now.
Rokan nods, a flicker of disappointment on his face. He turns away and heads to the fire, and I wonder if I’ve hurt his feelings
, somehow, because I didn’t encourage him? Was I supposed to?
And if I did, what happens then? I’m not experienced. What if things are different with aliens than they are with humans? What if me hitting on him and letting him know I’m interested means we’re married or some craziness?
I rub my forehead. When did this all get so complicated? I wish Maddie were here. She’d know what to do. For all that my sister’s a bigger girl, she’s confident as all get out. Me, I’m the shy, awkward one.
I look over at Rokan.
And then I blink. Hard.
While I was busy moping, he’s been stripping down. Gone are his leggings and the only thing he’s wearing is a rather small breechcloth. The sides of his ass are visible, and he’s just as blue and taut and oh-so-bite-able - sigh - there as he is everywhere else. His tail flicks back and forth, long and graceful, even if there’s a slight bend at the end of it that wasn’t there before. His entire torso is covered in grime and there are smears of blood going down the broad muscles of his back.
Sure, he’s been shirtless before, but he’s never been quite so close to naked. And I can’t stop staring.
I watch in fascination as he leans over the fire to dip the washcloth into the pouch of warm water. The cave is small and tight-quartered, and that means his ass is within grabbing reach, if I was a grabby sort of girl. Seeing him like this? It definitely makes my fingers itch and makes me want, so desperately, to be a lot braver than I am. Maddie would grab. Maddie would let him know just how interested she is.
Not for the first time in my life, I wish I was more like Maddie.
Then he straightens, his back still to me, and begins to wash his chest with broad strokes. I bite my lip because it’d be creepy for me to move to the other side of the cave just so I could get a better view, right? But I really, really want to. I want to watch his big hand trail over wet muscles. The purring in my chest seems to be throbbing in time with my aroused pulse, and the urge to slide my hand between my legs is overwhelming.
This is so, so wrong and yet so right.
I clamp my legs together and clasp my hands on my knees, as if that will help slow my arousal. As if that will make me stop thinking terribly dirty thoughts, like is he going to take that breechcloth off? Or what’s alien equipment look like? Or is his skin that furry-feeling-soft on his inner thighs as it is on his arms?
Oblivious to my attention, Rokan continues bathing, swiping the cloth up and down his arms, getting the worst of the gunk off his skin. He dips it over and over again, trying to clean his skin off. There’s a large spot on one big, flexing shoulder, and as I watch, he misses it. And then misses it again.
God, it’s like it’s taunting me with its presence.
If it was me bathing him? I’d totally get that spot. My fingers itch at the thought, because how bold would that be? But he moves the cloth over his arm again, and misses it once more.
Argh.
Rokan glances back at me and makes the water signal. If he notices the way I’m devouring his backside with my eyes? He doesn’t say anything. If anything, he’s a little stiff and awkward as he takes the dirty water to the front of the cave to toss out into the snow.
I notice as he walks past that there’s an old blood smear on his tail, too. God, this really is a travesty of bathing, isn’t it? I should help out.
I really should.
Just as a friend, of course.
A friend would totally point out to a friend that they were missing a spot on their big, brawny shoulders. It has nothing to do with the insistent, hollow ache between my thighs.
When he walks back in a moment later, water crystallized on his skin like a glossy coating, he’s carrying the water pouch full of snow directly in front of his crotch. No wonder he was walking stiff and awkward a moment ago - he’s trying to hide his erection from me again.
I press my fingers to my lips, watching as he puts the snow over the fire and crosses his arms impatiently. He’s got his back to me. That’s something Rokan never does, because he wants to be able to see my hand gestures. He’s always so very careful about that.
But right now? Back to me, and won’t turn around.
That needy feeling pulses between my legs again, and I squeeze my thighs tight.
Should I say something? Do something? It’s clear he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. I’m just terrified of being turned away. What if he has a lady alien waiting at home for him? That would be devastating.
I chew on my lip, full of indecision as he tests the melting snow, then dunks his cloth again and begins to wash once more. His movements are quick and hurried, and he’s missing the dirty spot on his shoulder with every brusque swipe.
Gah.
I can’t let this go on.
Courage, Lila. He likes you, too. Remember that. I suck in a breath and get to my feet. My entire body feels like it’s trembling. Of course, that might be because I’m purring so hard. I’m surprised he hasn’t commented on it. It has to be noisy, doesn’t it?
The frost covering his body is melting, leaving little taunting rivulets all over his skin as he washes. Naturally, that one spot that’s driving me crazy seems to be spared, because of course it is. It’s the universe telling me to step in.
I’m on my feet; I just need to move forward. I can do this. He’s not repulsed by humans; the hard-on he’s doing his best to hide from me tells me that. But then I falter - what if there’s another reason he’s not acting? Because he’s like, married or something?
Crap.
Crap crap crap.
For some reason, the thought of that hurts. I’ll never know unless I ask, though. So I suck up my courage and take a step forward, touching him on his arm. “Rokan.”
He jerks around, glowing eyes wide with surprise. His gaze meets mine and I feel a charge of electricity shoot through me.
No going back, now.
I make the wash signal and then hold my hand out.
He puts the scrap of cloth into my palm. I can feel his gaze on me, even if I won’t quite meet his eyes. I’m blushing. There’s heat in my cheeks, just like the heat between my legs that’s driving me to distraction.
“You missed a spot,” I mumble aloud and dip the cloth. The water’s still cold and slushy, having not had enough time to melt yet, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. I indicate that he should turn, and he does, presenting me with his broad back.
And I take another steeling breath before I put the wet cloth against his skin.
He’s so warm. So hard and covered with muscle. It’s like being this close just puts everything into overdrive. I can feel my chest purring wildly, and I really want to scrub him, all business, and show that I’m not affected. But I can’t. My hand trails over one broad shoulder with the cloth, and I watch in fascination as the water sluices down his back. In the flickering light of the fire, he’s all blue shadow, and I’m dying to touch him.
So I do. My fingers graze over his shoulder blades, and he stiffens, but doesn’t move. His tail flicks against my leg, then stills, as if he’s afraid of scaring me off. Like that’ll happen. I’m in this deep. Might as well get a little pleasure out of things, right?
I trace his muscles with my hands, feeling along his back. He’s soft to touch, like velvet pulled over slabs of muscle. It’s such a strange feeling, but a pleasant one, too. Along his spine, he has the bony, plated ridges like he does along his brow and his arms. I let my fingers explore those before dipping to the small of his back, where the water droplets seem to be gathering.
I bet I could pull the tiny breechcloth off of him in no time.
The naughty thought enters my mind and won’t leave once it’s there. I don’t act on it, though - it’s taking all my courage to touch him like this. I don’t know what I’d do with him naked, but my mind has a few ideas. Filthy, filthy mind.
He turns slowly, and I can’t quite lift my head to face him. Instead, I focus on the fact that now my fingers are skimming over the flat planes of
his belly instead of his back. He’s just as taut here, without an inch of flab to cover the six pack I’m tracing. Below, right in my line of sight, is the tented front of his breechcloth and it seems a lot bigger than I realized. Whoa. Okay. Alien equipment is definitely larger than human equipment. The sight of it makes my mouth dry, even as it makes me purr harder.
All right, the parasite I got is definitely a horn-dog of a parasite. I wonder if everyone’s is like that? Though I have to admit mine has excellent taste. I trail my fingers up that six pack and over his chest, he has the same hard plating. I place my hand over it, fascinated by the texture—
And I feel him purring underneath my hand.
I look up, startled. He’s purring, too? I didn’t realize because I couldn’t hear it, but I wonder if he’s been purring all along like I have. The look on Rokan’s face is utterly intense as he gazes down at me. It seems possessive and full of longing all at once, and it makes me shiver.
“I don’t know what this means,” I whisper aloud.
He lifts a hand to gesture, and then hesitates, as if trying to think of the right words.
That’s when I notice his arm is wounded.
11
ROKAN
I remain utterly still as Li-lah makes small fussing noises over the scratches on my arm, dabbing at them with the cloth. They are not deep and will heal in a day. My ribs and tail hurt worse, but even those can be ignored.
My cock aches the most of all, and that one cannot be ignored. Not with her standing this close and her small hands on my body.
This is the moment I have dreamed of - my mate touching me, the perfume of her cunt filling the air with her need. Her hand on my chest, feeling me resonate to her. It is everything I have ever wanted—
—Until she said she did not understand what the resonance meant.
It is like a knife in the gut to remember that she does not know what resonance means. She does not grasp how important it is, how life-changing. How my world has changed to focus entirely upon her. It is such an important part of my people and our lives that I cannot comprehend that she does not know of it.