by Bertina Mars
Her last conscious moment was filled with the shrill grind of metal against metal and the sickening crunch of metal on stone.
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Lana’s lashes fluttered against her cheeks; there was a low din of noise around her. She tried to open her eyes, but her body didn’t want to lift the suddenly heavy lids.
Her body ached and when she tried to move she couldn’t, something was holding her down. Terrified, Lana kicked out, desperate to confirm that she still had use of her lower extremities – on Earth spinal injuries were still significant, but in time one could regain use. Lana had no idea what capacity the race of this world had of fixing any injuries.
Though it hurt, she was able to kick out her feet. However, they did connect with something and the warped noise grew. Lana finally managed to force her lids up.
It seemed that at least one of her feet had connected with the nose of a fairly attractive man – at least she thought he might be through the blood that was now running down his face.
The man snarled, and another powerfully built man took his place, pinning her legs down to the hard surface at her back…feels like stone. There was an older man, no less physical in appearance than the younger men going over her body with some sort of device.
Lana’s vision had cleared enough that she was able to see him hold it over a gash across her stomach and watch as the flesh knitted itself back together.
Can I get one of those for the trip home? Maybe I won’t be fired if I am able to bring back something like that. I need to be employed until I can find an alternative job.
Now curious about where she was, Lana managed to catch glimpses through the legs of the men gathered around her. I wonder what the population ratio is…there are no women in this crowd. Ooooh, are they actually hermaphrodites?
Lana managed to see enough that she realized that she was in some sort of courtyard. Where is the ship? Well, whatever is left of it – obviously there is some, otherwise I would be dead.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed; her head was still spinning, and it took everything in Lana to be able to try to analyze her surroundings and not hurl as a result of the swirling queasiness; but the men holding her down finally released her.
Apparently, she needed to be still in order for their healing implement to be able to do its work. Perhaps it was the fact that she was still out of it, but maybe it was something more – for some reason, Lana didn’t feel threatened by all the big, powerfully built men around her.
For a world of significant scientific superiority, the men sure did look like warriors…and seriously, where are the women?
The older man of the group, he appeared to be about fifty or so – at least based on her Earthling comparison, helped Lana to sit up and waited until a very serious wave of nausea managed to pass.
When she was ready, he then assisted her into a standing position. Sure, the men had been obviously tall, but everyone looks tall when being assessed from a prone position on the ground.
Now that Lana was standing, she saw that the men around her were incredibly tall, at least six-foot-four and taller. As she tried to see through the crowd that had assembled, a murmur rose and the crowd parted, revealing a man, a warrior, who was both like the men around her and so very different from them – and he was headed her way.
When Lana first saw him, she marveled that a creature that big and muscular could move with such speed and grace. He was like a large, wild cat, fearing nothing, driving forward. He was magnificent, but Lana could tell that beneath the surface, he was full of menace.
The tangled black mane curling half way down his back, the rippling muscles and sinew glistened with sweat as he strode towards her, seeming to cover three lengths with each stride. Brow tightly knit, jaw set, Lana sensed a fear – awareness perhaps, the likes of which she had not known before. But then, she had not seen one of them before.
He stopped his progression, towering over her, his hand poised close to the huge sword dangling from his waist. The breadth of his heaving chest was twice the width of her shoulders. His glare was penetrating.
It burned through her and made Lana uneasy; somehow, he sensed that and his lips parted as they stretched with a wicked smirk. The arrogance of this one...
Lana’s heart was raced, beat a thundering chorus within her chest, and she knew. The warrior could tell that somehow, against the odds he was affecting her. Part fear, part curiosity, part … Lana did not know what she really felt, save that she did not control anything at this moment, not the event, not her emotions, not the path of destiny.
Though he looked so human, he was not one – he and she were not the same, this alien beast. Lana forced herself to take an objective step back; so maybe he felt nothing; maybe she was allowing the tension from the crash and her resultant emotions to cloud what was actually occurring.
But, then again, deep down she sensed his power and it filled Lana with an incomparable awe. She needed to regain herself, to have some control over the situation.
Lana had a job to do and first impressions were everything. Though she had managed to cement her inscrutable expression, when she tried to speak, her voice failed. Not even a squeak escaped.
The imposing man very slowly looked Lana up and down, from head to toe and back up again. She was sure that his eyes paused somewhere along the way, but regardless; she knew he took in everything.
Next, he took a half step closer, too close, and his dark gaze sought to drown in her eyes. Lana could read nothing in his jet black eyes, but felt as though her innermost secrets were an open book to his searching gaze, and as he saw each secret, he turned each one over, examining it thoroughly, in the most invasive way. It felt as if she had been stripped naked, and made vulnerable.
Lana was finally able to break from his soul search. For a moment, she stared at the ground in front of him and then raised her eyes slightly and took in the crude leather boots, the colorful, peasant-cloth pants; this “man” did not look like someone with whom she would discuss an exchange of technology.
The broad bare chest, leather wrappings on his forearms, the massive broadsword he carried, and the scars on his shoulders said “warrior,” as did his sense of command. There was a sense of powerlessness when one stood in his presence, and it was completely unfamiliar territory for a woman that had always had a firm grasp on the reigns of her own destiny
Lana tilted her head back and met his gaze again. This time was different, less prying – he was waiting. His eyes no longer looked black, they had softened somewhat, but they weren’t brown – no, his eyes were the color of dusk.
There was color there, but it blurred with the black; the darkest shade of blue, perhaps? The tension was gone from his brow, and there was almost a hint of a turn of his lips. A clear, resonant baritone voice said “Hello.”
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The buzz of sound was almost overwhelming – after the Raspettian females, the female that had been pulled from the wreckage would be beyond desirous to any of the warriors, but the reality was that she was likely one of the most appealing women Akketon had ever seen – and he had visited the pleasure domes on Salket where any slaver would first try to sell a particularly striking female for the highest price.
She was of average to tall-average height for a humanoid. The top of her head would reach the crest of his shoulder. She wasn’t thin, but her body was shapely, lithe, richly curved. The length of her legs was showcased in the form-fitting suit she wore.
Sleek muscles flexed as she moved. The generous flare of her hips swayed as she moved toward the base of the stairs. Three of the warriors were ‘escorting’ her, but the reality was that the woman would easily be able to land a couple of hits, injure them as they were too distracted, staring at the way that she walked.
The shift, the sway, the way her body moved was reminiscent to the rolling undulation of the tides on his sea covered home world. Her swaying hips tapered to a narrow waist. Her belly was a smooth plane that was slightly rou
nded just above the arching lowland that was the mound of her sex.
He could subtly discern the shapely juncture through the fabric of her covering, which fit her body like a second skin. From what he could tell, she was unquestionably comparable to the females to which he was accustomed.
The tapered line of her waist was further showcased by the generous breasts that sat high on her chest. Their undersides were fuller tilting the peaks upward.
Hair that was just shorter than his own, fluttered over her shoulders to provide only the occasional tantalizing glimpse of those firm buds, which in the whipping chill of the Raspettian wind had firmed to full visibility through her clothing.
“Hello,” the low greeting rolled through the short expanse between them. “Where are you from?” His demanding tone echoed around the courtyard at the base of the main stairs.
The woman arched a brow at that Akketon’s tone, and his gaze shifted to snake over that that betraying arch. While Akketon was familiar with many of the coloring options that could be seen through the star systems, hers was one of his favorites.
The coppery-red hair and eyes the same shade of aqua as the Salket paradise pleasure lagoons. Her lips were rosy, a shade or two lighter than the shimmering waves of her hair, but dark – full of promise – on her creamy skin.
Akketon found himself wondering which of her features he would call his favorite. All in all, she was exquisite to look at. And while Akketon could see her shifting nervously under his appraisal, Akketon could see a wicked intelligence and sharp temperament lurking beneath the surface of her façade of calm – a female worth mating with.
No wonder his body had been on fire. No wonder he had known that the force that was hurtling toward Raspett the past weeks was capable of changing his entire life – the woman was his mate.
In the dark, lying in his bed as a child, awoken by nightmares, Akketon’s father had told him about the mating burn. That he would know his mate if ever they crossed his path.
For years, Akketon had assumed that his father had been telling him a bedtime story, now he realized it was true. The mating burn was a raging fire within him and it burned for the copper headed woman quirking a brow at him. Already Akketon knew.
She isn’t going to make this easy.
Chapter 4
Akketon was initially a little taken aback that the female had declined to join the evening meal after introductions had finally been made, then he remembered that she had in fact been in a fairly substantial crash mere hours before.
The healer, of which there was one attached to every unit of warriors, had seen to what had apparently been relatively minor injuries. When she bowed out of the customary evening meal and the festivities that would subsequently ensue, Akketon sought out the healer and inquired if there would be any lasting effects of the trauma of the crash.
“No, the female is doubtless just tired. Exhausted even. Some of the comments that she made suggested that Raspett had in fact been her targeted destination. Is that true?”
“From what I gathered from the meeting between she and I, there is truth to that claim. However, I am beginning to wonder if she was deceived into coming here.
Apparently, she was sent in order to orchestrate a treaty; a sharing of technology between the Raspettians and her home planet. She has no idea the sort of being the Raspettians can be to humanoids. Honestly, we wouldn’t be here, we would have sought out an alternative world, if they were not the way they are.
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Lana jerked awake; the remnants of a dream…or something…slipped away before she could grab ahold of them and remember. She lay in the dark for a few moments trying to remember where she was.
The room was cool, but not cold. There was a tiny window, but wherever it showed was just as dark as it was inside the space she lay in. Suddenly, Lana remembered. The crash. The very large humanoid males – they really did suit their self-description of “warrior.”
Though the room that she has been installed in was small, at least it was private. Then really, could she really say that it was small? The room was the exact same size as her entire dormitory apartment back at Harrison Labs on Earth.
She slipped out of her chamber and proceeded to wander about on the first few floors of the fortress compound. Silent as a wraith, she slipped through the halls and explored a number of chambers, relishing the opportunity to study the social artifacts of a strange world unhindered.
The men were also very arrogant. Heads high, chest puffed out. They were the quintessential manly-men from the annals of Earth’s history. The first time that Lana had seen them, she couldn’t help but think of the conquering Vikings of old. A hoard that pillaged any and all that they could find worthy of taking.
Eventually, Lana found herself at the large door when she passed to enter the fortress the evening before. Experimentally, she pulled on the handle and found, unsurprisingly, that the door did not budge.
She undeterred from her exploration. Lana instead made her way through an open doorway into what she could only describe as an antechamber to the Great Hall. It was in this room, that she saw passages that led onto a balcony.
Curious, Lana went across the room, stepped out into the cool air. Pre-dawn light had only just begun to the stretch misty tendrils of light into an Inky black sky. In the darkness, Lana could see that the courtyard she had barely glimpsed had a series of attached structured Gardens.
Lana found the steps from the balcony into the courtyard and proceeded to entertain herself through the rising of dawn by exploring the gardens. As the low light slowly increased and the alien world’s Sun proceeded to illuminate the luscious landscape, Lana was able to see that the Fortress was in fact at the base of the cliff into which she had crashed the day before.
As none of the Warriors have yet to stir, Lana developed a seemingly harmless idea. She would go up to the crash site and see if there was anything worth salvaging. If there were any pieces of communication equipment that the race she was visiting could possibly help her fix so that she would be able to get back in touch with her home base on Earth.
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Getting back up to the crash site wasn't a particularly easy task. Granted, it wasn't as if she was merely strolling up some relaxed hill path as they had back in Harrison labs in the Campus Park. No, she was climbing the cliff. A rather large cliff.
At the moment, all she could consider was how fortunate it was that she had a particular passion for spelunking. There was nothing Lana enjoyed more during her holidays then to go crawling into a cave and diving into some of the oldest archaeological sites that were otherwise inaccessible without damaging the find.
Still, she hoped that she would be able to find something worthwhile on the crash site, otherwise the effort, the exertion, getting dirty, would not be worth the hassle she would face from the domineering males of this planet, should they discover she had slipped away – at least that is what she thought until large hands seized her and pulled her up the remaining expanse of the cliff to safety.
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He was furious; Akketon had searched the entirety of the citadel for the woman, for Lana. She was nowhere to be found. He had just stomped into the main entry hall when a unit of his warriors escorted the termagant into the hall ahead of them.
They were loaded down with remnants of her ship, and she was talking to Sarcal, the leader of her escorts about the likelihood to be able to regain functionality in the equipment, so that she might be able to contact those on her world to whom she reported.
Akketon allowed Sarcal, one of the most technologically gifted of his men to reply that he would give it his best attempt, before striding over and seizing the frustrating creature.
In his ire, Akketon lost all semblance of control over himself and used his mouth to swallow and silence Lana’s budding protests at being ‘man-handled.’ He would show her what it meant to be handled by a man.
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First, the damn bastard kissed her, now he was d
ragging her back through the halls of the fortress. In that moment, Lana pictured the man as a Germanic Hessian…Viking, definitely Viking; and she was the eastern Russian woman; captured, expected to submit to his will.
Well, like the Russian women – of all generations, she was strong willed and having none of it. Lana dug her heels in and clawed at the arrogant ass as he dragged her up two flights of stairs.
Apparently, he only had so much tolerance for that, as at the third flight, he swung her over one broad, heavily muscled shoulder and hauled her, like a sack of potatoes at a vodka distillery, carefully enough, but irreverently, up two more flights of stairs.
Akketon’s boot heels rapped on the stone floor as he strode to the end of a hall. Lana had yet to venture this deep into the massive place; however, when he threw one massive door wide, she realized what type of room he was taking her to. His.
As sumptuous as the room appeared, the sight of the bed caused her to begin to writhe against him in earnest. She even reached up and grabbed a fistful of his long hair.
Ever the warrior, Akketon snarled at the hair pulling – Lana was Russian, there were times for fighting in accordance to the “rules” of honor, and there were times that one threw those rules out of the highest window available.
“By the stars woman; really, hair pulling?” Akketon popped the back of Lana’s thighs, hard, causing her to release her death grip on his hair in order to attempt to reach back in an attempt to protect her prone posterior.
“You bastard,” she screeched viciously – turning her head, hoping to get that screech to ricochet in his ears, or at least one of them. Unfortunately, that swat had done more than get her to release his hair; it had thoroughly distracted Lana, for in the next moment, she was flying.