by Dixon, Ruby
He snorts and shakes his head, turning back to his kill. "One problem solves itself and yet another arises. I feel we will be here on this beach forever." And his smile disappears. When he hacks at the next leg of the critter, it seems to carry frustration with it.
"What problems?"
Hassen glances over at me. "Nothing for you to worry over. Or are you and Gren returning to camp with us now?" He brightens at the thought, straightening. "I thought you would be here for another day or two."
"We're not going back." I tuck the blanket closer around my naked body, shivering in the wind. "Ever."
"Ever? Ever is a very long time."
"Ever," I say firmly. "I remember how everyone treated Gren."
"How should we have treated him? Smiled as he attacked us with his claws? Offered him hugs and pats on the head as he ripped our innards from our bodies?"
"You could have tried talking to him," I snap, hating that his logic makes sense. It doesn't make it right. "He's not an animal, you know. He speaks just as well as you or I, just in a different language."
"Ah." Hassen tilts his head, thinking. Then he shrugs and returns to butchering his kill. "This meat is best raw, but if you are like the other humans, you will want to burn it over the fire until all the good blood is gone." He straightens, wiping his knife on a bit of leather, and then glances over at me. "Can I help you with anything else?"
"I told you, we don't want anything—"
"I am not here because you want me here." He grins at me, clearly delighting in being an irritating pain in the ass. "I am here because my chief asked it. He told me to look after the two of you and so I shall. You will be as a pair of my own kits." He pauses, and then adds slyly, "A pair of very eager-to-mate kits."
"Just…go away." I wave a hand at him and turn on my heel to head back into the cave. I'll get fresh water later. God.
"I will leave this here for you," he calls after me. "And fuel. Speak if you need anything else and it shall be yours."
The only thing I want is for us to be left alone, but I know he won't grant us that.
* * *
When Gren wakes up, his nostrils flare and I know he picks up Hassen's scent. He growls furiously, the possessive look in his eyes, and stalks to the front of the cave, claws extended as if he's going to rip the other alien's throat out. I trot behind him, worried, as I try to distract him. "Gren, sugar, he's just trying to help."
We get to the front of the cave, and I'm relieved to see that Hassen is long gone, the butchered kill neatly spread out on a hide, along with a satchel full of shit-cakes and what look like two fresh waterskins. He is taking care of us, it seems. Gren scowls at the open air, and when I move to his side, he pulls me against him, snarls my name, and then brings me to the cave wall. It isn't until he drops to his knees and puts his mouth on my pussy that I realize what he's doing.
He's claiming me, right in this tunnel, as if to show the world that I belong to him and him alone.
I protest—well, only a little—and his wonderful mouth makes me come far too quickly. I'm still panting with my release when he turns me to face the wall, and I gladly put my hands on it, bracing them as he thrusts into me from behind. I come again when he does, our bodies trembling with exhaustion. It's still so good, even after a dozen rounds a day.
I know this is Gren marking his territory, so to speak, but I don't mind it. I'm his and I want the world to know he's mine, too.
We're hungry, though, and the supplies left behind are too tempting to abandon. We haul them inside, and I hate that Hassen is right; even this small effort feels like a lot of energy. Our bodies don't seem to want to do anything but have sex, and we're rapidly growing too tired even for that. I watch Gren, worried. He's stronger than me, sure, but he was also close to losing his life just a short time ago.
Resonance could have really picked some better timing.
The fresh meat does a lot to help our strength, though. Gren devours an entire leg raw by himself, then starts on the next. I cook mine, though I do try a grudging bite of Gren's raw food. It's not my favorite, but I could eat it if I had to. Good to know, in case fire ends up being too difficult for us to do on our own. I look around the cozy cave, and all I see are supplies from the others. The blanket I hold against my chest, the fuel for the fire, even the cooking utensils are carved from bone by tribal hands. I don't like leaning on them for all this stuff, but at the same time, it makes life so much easier.
When we leave, we'll have to start from scratch. The thought is pretty daunting.
I won't think about it right now. One thing at a time.
Gren takes the water pouch and hangs it over the fire, and when he pulls out a bit of soap and his eyes gleam, I chuckle. "Bath time?" I ask.
"Willa," he says, and gives that lovely little snarl I'm coming to adore. I don't know what it means, yet, but I will eventually. He takes my hand in his, helps me stand, and then ever-so-gently peels the blanket away from my nude body. His eyes glow in the firelight as he regards the small bruises and light scratches on my skin from our week of marathon sex. A lot of them were because I was too impatient and banged up against something in my haste to tackle him. Gren's cootie is roaring in his chest, drowning out the soft sounds he makes of his own language, and when he reaches for the fur “towel,” heat washes over me.
"Sexy bath time, I see," I murmur as he wets the cloth and then puts it on one breast, teasing the aching tip even as he washes me. My skin gleams damp in the firelight, and after a moment's consideration, he puts his mouth over my nipple, licking off the droplets of water.
Something tells me that we're not going to get very far with the whole “bathing” thing, but I find that I don't really care.
20
WILLA
"Ho," calls an unfamiliar voice, rousing me from my sleep some time later. I blink groggily, gazing up at the “skylight” in our cave as it lets in fresh morning sunlight. Did we sleep through the entire night? I'm curled up against Gren, our limbs tangled together and the blankets smell like so much sex that it's a wonder the scent hasn't permanently embedded itself in our skin. I glance down at Gren, but he's still sleeping, utterly exhausted.
Should I wake him? Or just get dressed and meet whoever is on their way in? I consider for a moment, then hastily grab the only piece of clothing I have left—an oversized tunic I stole from one of the red guys back on the beach—and slide it over my head. As I'm putting on my boots, Gren stirs awake, even as the other voice calls out again.
"Ho! Willa? Gren?" The accent is different, the voice echoing off the corridor. "I mean no harm. Is it safe to come in?"
Gren jerks awake, a growl in his throat, and he leaps to his feet.
"No, wait, Gren," I murmur, putting my hands up. "It's okay."
He stills, watching my expression. There's a suspicious look on his face as he crouches low, but he watches me, waiting.
"It's okay," I murmur. I don't look over at the spear on the wall, because I don't want him to think we need to attack. After Hassen's visit, I'm guessing that this is just another round of friendly interfering, bringing more food and supplies to us while we hide in our cave. Maybe this person will listen to “no” better than Hassen did. "Just…wait here," I tell Gren, gesturing at the blankets. "I'll go talk to him."
I turn and head for the tunnel, and immediately, Gren is at my side, pulling me behind him.
"Gren," I protest. "Wait. Let's not hurt anyone."
My alien looks over at me, cups my face, and then gives me a lick-kiss of affection. "Willa." He steps in front of me again, but I notice that his stance is more erect, his claws not facing outward in attack-mode. He's wary, but he's not going after anyone…yet. Okay, this is a good sign.
"You…can come in," I call out, wrapping my hands around Gren's bicep in case I have to drag him away (ha, like that'll happen). "But I can't guarantee he'll be friendly."
"I hope for my sake that he is, then," the man calls out cheerfully, and then p
ops his head around the corner. It's…Murdock? Or something like that. He's the one with the tattoos and the silver-capped horns, and the short hair. He grins at us, his expression friendly, and then tilts his head. "Farli brought some stuff from the camp, but she won't come in unless I reassure her that no one's going to eat Chompy."
"Chompy?" I ask, confused.
"Her pet dvisti. The skinny four-legged thing around camp. You remember?"
"Oh sure," I answer blankly. I admit I didn't pay much attention to what the locals had with them, but I guess there could have been an animal. "We won't eat it. Hassen brought us food last night. In fact, there's not much reason for y'all to be up here. We're good."
The big blue alien straightens and looks surprised. "You don't want a translator? Hassen said that neither of you had one."
Now I feel like a jackass. My cheeks get hot and I squeeze Gren's arm when he starts to growl. "Wait—"
To my surprise, the alien turns to Gren and lifts his chin, growling back.
I can feel Gren tense with surprise.
"What…you understand him?" I don't know why I'm so shocked. I'm also incredibly jealous.
The newcomer grins at us, showing an elongated pair of canines that look like baby fangs compared to my Gren's. "I'm not very good at Praxiian, but I've learned a few words in my day. Mostly greetings and 'I'm here for the cargo,' but I guess that wouldn't work here." He slings a bag off of his shoulder. "I brought tools to give you both translators if you want them. If not, Farli and I can go."
I blink. Why are they being so nice all of a sudden? It feels suspicious…but gosh, I do want the translator. I want to be able to talk to Gren. Even now, he looks at me, eyes narrowed, and then gives another growl of response to the other alien, who nods. "Um, I would like that. Thank you, Murdock."
"Mardok. And fantastic. Have a seat by the fire, and I'll get Farli—"
"I am here," a cheerful female voice calls out in English. "Chahm-pee was too impatient to wait outside." A beaming blue face and long, delicate black braids appear in the tunnel, and then Farli steps inside. She's easily a foot and a half taller than me, lanky and lean and so graceful that I feel like a dork next to her. She wears brightly decorated leather leggings and a necklace of carved bones to cover her breasts, and when she snaps her fingers, the world's ugliest camel trots into the cave, bleats angrily, and then takes a dump on the floor right in front of us.
"Good old Chompy," Mardok says with a shake of his head. "Sorry about that."
"Manners," Farli tsks, but gives the critter's long, hairy snout a kiss. "I will clean up after him, never fear. Thank you for inviting us into your home."
"Sure," I say, bewildered—and suddenly glad I dressed. I realize that Gren isn't wearing a stitch of clothing and hastily pull a blanket around his loins, then tuck in the edge to make a long skirt. It's not that I think he's embarrassed, but I don't want them looking at my man. I'm feeling incredibly possessive. He says nothing, just gives me a curious look, and relaxes slightly when I tuck my hands on his arm again, determined to hold onto him. I don't think he's going to attack. I'm just…grabby. My cootie hums loudly, reminding me that we're still resonating.
Farli cleans up after Chompy as Mardok moves towards the fire, pulling out a skin and spreading a few instruments out. He says something a few times in the weird growl-language, and though Gren is regarding him suspiciously, he's calm. I'm jealous all over again, because I want to talk to Gren. I'm suddenly glad they're here. "So, this will work?"
"Of course." Farli bustles in, her beast trotting after her like a tamed pony, and she pulls a big pack off his back. "My Mardok is very skilled. He has given translators to all of the others. You are the last ones…on this shore." She purses her lips and then gives me a cheery smile, as if changing the subject. "We have brought you both gifts from the others, as well."
"Gifts?" I'm surprised.
"Clothes and supplies," Farli says, unpacking. "Do you wish to see?"
Oh, I do. I know we have supplies here, but I'm curious what the others sent to us. More than that, though, I want Gren to get his translator. So I hesitate, glancing over at him. My big alien watches me, his eyes narrowed, and I can tell from his uneasy stance that he's watching the others more than he is me.
Mardok pulls out something that looks like the world's longest, deadliest syringe…with a control panel on it. He taps buttons at light-speed, and a light clicks on with a small chiming noise. "I don't suppose you can tell him that I mean him no harm and this will hurt, but only for a second?"
"I barely have the words to tell him I'm a friend," I admit.
Gren growls something, then says "Willa friend."
Mardok nods.
I hate that we're talking around him. "Do mine first, so he can see that you mean no harm."
"Is he going to allow that?" Mardok asks.
Oh. I don't know. "One way to find out, I suppose."
Mardok and Farli exchange a look. "I have to inject this into your temporal lobe. If he touches you while I'm doing it, it could cause damage, and we don't have a med-bay here. We're roughing it, as your people like to say."
"It'll be fine," I tell him firmly. "I'll just smile a lot and act like nothing hurts."
"Oh good, because that won't be alarming," Mardok says drily. "If you're sure."
"Should I distract him?" Farli asks, a worried expression on her face.
"No, it's all right, love. Willa knows Gren better than anyone."
I nod and turn to Gren, and my heart aches at how he watches me, expectant. He knows we're talking about him—heck, his name is peppering our conversation—and I want him to understand us. I want to talk to him. My cootie roars a response, and my body responds, wanting us to mate again, but one thing at a time. I smile brightly at my mate and put my hands on his face, cupping his furry jaw. "Gren, friend." I gesture at Farli and Mardok. "Friend. Friend." Then, I point at the needle. "Friend."
It's a stretch, but I hope he understands it.
Gren's brow creases and he looks over at Mardok. He says something with a series of slurred growls.
Mardok seems surprised, and then nods, making a low snarl that sounds like an affirmative before turning to us. "He wants to know if this is a stim. I guess he's taken a lot of them in the past? All the stims I know of were outlawed on most worlds, though." He taps the needle-gun. "He doesn't seem afraid of them, though, so I told him that's what it is. We can explain more later. Are you ready?" Mardok watches me.
I nod, and take Gren's hands in mine, holding them lightly. I give him a smile that I hope conveys all of my love and affection, and I try not to tense when Mardok puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Careful, my heart," Farli murmurs.
"He's watching but not moving. I think we're all right," Mardok says, voice unnaturally easy. His fingers brush over a bit of my tangled hair, exposing the area behind my ear. "I'm about to inject, Willa. It won't take but a moment, but I need him to be utterly still."
"He'll be all right," I promise, and the hands I hold in mine aren't tense. In fact, he just waits, watching me. I want to weep at how fucked up his life must have been if injections and people with needles are trusted, but touches are worrisome.
My poor Gren.
Something cool touches behind my ear and a sharp pain lances through my skull. I suck in a breath even though I resolved to try and remain unaffected. A second later, Mardok retreats, wiping down his equipment, and I rub my forehead. My head is throbbing.
Gren runs his fingertips over my brow, one of those low growls coming from his throat. "My poor female."
My eyes widen, because I understood that. "Gren!" I fling myself into his arms. "I can understand you!"
Farli chuckles behind us. Gren just gives me a puzzled look, and I realize how frustrating a translator can be when it's only one way. I can babble at him in English all I want, but he won't understand me until he has one, too. I plant a smacking kiss on his face, though. I'm so happy. I want to beg
him to speak more, but Mardok's reloading his needle.
"Gren, friend," I tell him, then gesture at the equipment, and point behind Gren's ear. I indicate that he gets a shot next, and he grunts acknowledgment. My heart squeezes. Why is this normal for him? I hate that.
He watches me the entire time, not moving as Mardok carefully injects the chip behind his ear.
Impatiently, I watch as Mardok carefully withdraws the needle and begins to clean his equipment again. I regard Gren, but his expression remains as blank as it did a moment ago. "Tell me when it starts to work," I say to Mardok, impatient as I watch my beloved alien's face. "I can't wait to talk to him."
Astonishment crosses Gren's face. "Willa? I can understand you?"
Tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze his hands excitedly, still shocked that his growls and low thrumming snarls make sense to my brain. "Yes! Hi! Mardok came up here to give us translation chips." I fling myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and showering his face with kisses. "We can finally talk!"
I hear Farli's chuckle of amusement as she gets to her feet. "I will unpack your things while you two take a moment. Mardok, my heart, join me."
"Right. Of course." He gets to his feet and I hear clothing rustle and their voices murmur, but I don't pay attention to them. I'm too entranced at the sight of my Gren, watching me with an expression that is utterly dumbfounded.
"Hi," I whisper again, suddenly shy. I stroke his fuzzy jaw, noting he's still silent. "Are you happy?"
Gren's arms tighten around me. "I do not know."
I'm dismayed to hear that. "You don't want to talk to me?"
"My Willa…I want that more than anything." He traces a finger along my jaw, his gaze troubled. "But I do not like the promotion."
"Promotion?"
"To breeding slaves. That is why they have come to retrieve us, yes? That is why they give us the ability to speak to one another? Because we are going to be sold as breeding slaves?" His arms tighten around me. "I will fight them to the death if they try to separate us."