Bebe

by Phelps, Darla

  Across the crackling fire, the old man began to lay thick strips of meat across a spit to cook. As Ben sat down next to her against the wall, the whole cave filled with the pungent aroma of browning meat. She folded her arms across her stomach, unsure whether the dull cramping she could feel in her belly was her stomach on the verge of growling or being sick. It was a welcome distraction when Ben suddenly reached over into her lap and took one of her hands. He turned it palm-down and looked at her chewed fingernails. He picked at the chipped nail polish with his thumb.

  “Where you from, Bay-bay?” he asked, letting her pull her hand out of his. “Have you been here long?”

  Bebe stared at his mouth through the scruffy length of brown beard, struggling to dredge up enough of her half-forgotten past to make his words make sense. How long? Here? She held up one finger. But he should know that since he’d brought her.

  “One?” He looked from her to her finger. “The polish on your nails is almost right up against the cuticle and barely chipped at the ends, so I’m guessing by one you don’t mean years or months. Maybe not even weeks. You must be fresh off the boat, so to speak.”

  Bebe had absolutely no idea what that meant. She hugged her knees and held herself quiet, waiting to be rescued.

  Making himself comfortable beside her, Ben cross-legged and clasped his large hands in his lap. “Me, I’m practically an old timer at this.”

  Across the fire, Matt snorted.

  “Go on and laugh, but how long’s it been?” Ben paused, glancing away, his eyes narrowing as he briefly considered it. “What...eighteen years now? It’s hard to tell. The moon rotates faster here and there’s about fourteen months between winters.”

  “You still keeping track?” the old man scoffed, reaching over the flames to turn the strips of meat with his calloused fingers. “I gave that up a decade ago.”

  “Never mind the grump over there,” Ben told her. “If I’ve been here eighteen, then he’s been here seventeen. Although he’s been on the planet probably closer to twenty. They had him in a fish tank for a while, but he kept breaking out.”

  When Will and Greg pushed back through the flap, their arms full of sticks and wood for the fire, Ben pointed to first one and then the other. “Now, there’s the real pups. Will doesn’t look it, but he’s almost as much an old-timer as Matt. He was ten when they dropped him over the fence, so he’s been here about half his life. Greg’s the baby of the family. They dropped him in about six years ago. Just before they sent us that...that...” Ben thumbed aimlessly over one shoulder, his face losing a shade of amicability and becoming grimmer, somehow darker despite his stubbornly maintained smile, “that big ol’ fucker to shadow our every move.”

  Her lips moving soundlessly, Bebe found herself struggling through unfamiliar words to keep up with what he was saying. He had a very strange way of speaking that went beyond the difference in language. It was colorful and confusing, and if she concentrated long enough sometimes the meanings to words she had forgotten came flooding back to her. Most didn’t, but the look on Ben’s face had turned fuming and she didn’t dare ask for clarification. She closed her mouth and looked away again, reminding herself that he was still her captor. Her kidnapper who had tied Tral up and stolen her away in the middle of the night. Just because he was being nice to her now, talking and smiling didn’t change that.

  After a moment of near-angry silence, Ben made a visible effort to regain his composure. “So anyway, now we’re here.” He spread his hands, encompassing the cave. “And this is home. Not exactly the Carlton-Ritz—”

  Matt broke in with another snort. “This ain’t even the Motel 6.”

  “But it keeps the weather off,” Ben said without pause. “And so long as we don’t let the fire die, the saber-toothed rats stay clear of us. Just don’t go anywhere by yourself, and I’m serious about that, not even to pee—”

  “Tell her about the wolves, Ben,” Will broke in, his face drawn and serious.

  “I’m getting there.” The leader of the males held up a hand, more calming than shushing, and to her said, “Forget everything you ever learned about wolves on the Discovery Channel. They’re huge here, and they will kill you.”

  “So will the deer,” Greg added, and dumped his armload of wood in a stack against the wall.

  “And the squirrels,” the old man drawled. He stirred at the fire with a stick. “Hell, even the plants here will kill you.”

  “Hey guys,” Ben’s half-hearted laugh came out sounding more irritated than amused. “Can we please stop trying to scare the shit out of the new kid?” He turned back to her. “I am dead-dog serious, though. One of us—and frankly, two would be better—goes with you, and I do mean everywhere. We aren't at the top of the food chain here. We aren't even close to the top. Understand?”

  Barely one word in five. Bebe nodded anyway; he seemed to be expecting an answer.

  “Good.” Ben nodded back at her. “That’s mostly it for indigenous dangers.” He gave his companions a hard look. “The four-legged variety, anyway. For the most part, that big fucker keeps to the western ridge or wanders along the fence—which reminds me, don’t try to climb the fence, either. It’s electrified at the top and hot enough to send your ass flying a good twenty feet. And don’t go through the holes if you find one. There’s things outside this place that make the wolves, rats and deer—”

  “And squirrels,” Matt repeated, darkly serious.

  “—seem like warm, cuddly kittens in comparison.” He reached into her lap, folding her small hands into one of his large, calloused ones. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I want you to be aware but don’t be scared. We’re going to take care of you. I used to be a rookie cop and a survival nut back home.” Ben stared at his companions, no trace of his former smile anywhere about him now. “I taught them how to live here.” He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll teach you, too. Like I said, we’re a family, a single unit. We survive because we share what we have and we all chip in where we can. Nobody gets carried here.”

  His gaze fell from her eyes to her chest, and then he squeezed her hand one last time and looked away.

  Bebe hugged Tral’s coat closer, unsure how to interpret that look, either Ben’s or the focused stares of his three companions as they watched her from the shadows on the other side of the fire. “What...have I...share..?”

  “Jesus,” Will said. He ducked his head, only half-heartedly bothering to hide his snickering laugh. “She doesn’t talk for shit. She sounds like one of them, too!”

  “Shut up,” Matt told him, glancing over the fire at her. “They don’t just steal Americans, you know. English doesn’t have to be her first language. Maybe she’s Scandinavian, or something. Slavic people, they gargle when they talk.”

  “She’s not gargling,” Will said defensively. “She’s...growling.”

  Everybody looked at her again, a darkly speculative stare that made the pit of her stomach clench into knots. Fingers fidgeting non-stop with the fastenings of Tral’s coat, she looked from one to the other and finally back to Ben again. Did that mean they didn’t want her anymore? Did that mean she could go home?

  “Leave her alone,” Ben told him. Will shut his mouth with a shrug, but that didn’t stop him from staring at her. Or Greg. Or Matt from making a point of not staring, and as the silence progressed, broken only by the occasional pop of green burning wood and the fatty sizzle of cooking meat, the more Bebe stole one clandestine glance after another at the darkness that haloed the hide-blocked exit to freedom.

  The silence didn’t last long.

  Perking slightly, Will suddenly asked, “So, who gets her first?”

  The question startled everyone, include Bebe. She might not understand a lot of what was being said around her, but she knew ‘gets’ meant ‘keep’ and that she was the only ‘her’ here. She looked to Ben and then shot to her feet, clutching Tral’s coat tight around her. She would have bolted had the sudden pain of standing not toppled her backward
s into the cave wall.

  On his feet every bit as fast, Ben caught her arm, steadying her, but it was Matt who, almost faster than she could follow, lashed a long arm out and corrected Will with a flat-handed smack upside the head. The blow was not gentle and almost knocked the younger man sideways off his butt. “Shut your damn mouth!”

  Will scrambled to his feet, glaring at the old man as he spat, “Fuck you! I was just saying!”

  “Both of you, knock if off,” Ben snapped.

  Sulking, Will rubbed his ear again, but he wasn’t quiet for long. “It’s what everybody’s thinking, isn’t it? It’s the whole reason we attacked the fucker, instead of just scaring him like we first planned, right?”

  The old man dropped the meat he was turning and stood up, this time taking a proper swing, but Will was faster. He both ducked and dodged, dashing around the fire to get out of arm’s reach.

  “Ha!” he barked, doing a strange, hopping dance on nimble, fur-wrapped feet.

  Without a word, Greg walked up behind him, balled up his fist and punched the back of his head.

  “Hey!” Will shouted, clutching at his skull. He glared at everyone in turn, including with her. “I was just asking! It’s still share and share alike, right? Those are your rules, Ben!”

  “Share?” Bebe whimpered, the word as she understood it taking on ugly connotations. She looked to Ben for confirmation. Shaking her head, she yanked her arm out of his hold and slunk away from him—from everyone—alone the craggy wall.

  “We’re not talking about it tonight,” Ben said grimly, not meeting her eyes.

  “Shut up and eat.” Matt gruffly added. He grabbed a piece of browned meat and threw it, striking Will in the chest just under his neck. Will caught it impulsively. “Unless you want to try chewing without any fucking teeth, shut your damn mouth!”

  “I was just—”

  “Go on and say it again!” The old man started for him, fists clenched, and Will abruptly shut his mouth and bolted with his meat into the relative safety in the back shadows of the cave.

  “Share?” Bebe asked again, her voice warbling a little louder because Ben wasn’t answering her and that, in and of itself, was an answer. “I want go home!”

  “I know,” Ben told her, shooting a disgusted look after Will. “Me too. It’s best not to think about it. Any of it. Tomorrow’s soon enough to work out the details, anyway.”

  Bebe was far from soothed. She looked to the cave’s entryway, but already her aching feet were burning as hot as if she were standing directly in the cooking fire. She sagged back down the wall, hugging herself and rocking, and refusing to look at anyone, not even when Matt brought her a strip of meat. She turned her face away, refusing to take it until Ben physically took one of her hands, placed the food across her open palm and closed her fingers around it.

  “Eat. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He tried to smile, flashing her a glimpse of straight, white teeth. “Believe me, I’ve had backyard barbecue that tasted much worse than this. The kill’s fresh, too. So trust me, enjoy it while you can.”

  Bebe held the cooked flesh in her hand, intensely uncomfortable, aching now and utterly repulsed. It was the first time she’d ever been given food that hadn’t come from a pantry cupboard or been served on a plate. Company notwithstanding, she didn’t think she could eat this.

  “Try it,” Ben urged, sitting down beside her again. Leading by example, he took a healthy bite of his own share, which caused pink meat-juice to dribble into his beard. He rubbed it away with the back of one hand, chewing hungrily. So did everyone else, everyone but Will (who she couldn’t see) staring back at her as they ate.

  Hesitantly, she tried a small bite. She didn’t like the smell of it or the fibrous consistency, but the flavor was, as Ben had promised, not bad. Still, what she knew of her fate left her tense and wary, and that made for a very awkwardly shared meal. Afterward, the hot meat sat in the pit of her stomach, a heavy indigestible lump.

  “Think that big guy’ll come looking for her?” Greg broke the silence to ask.

  Ben shook his head. “Not tonight. We’ll move in the morning, though. If we time it between storms, he’ll have a hell of a time trying to track us.”

  “Where?” the old man grunted, yawning into his fist.

  “The south ridge,” Ben said, after quiet consideration. “I saw some ground openings there that look promising. Not as big as this, but maybe smaller will hold the heat better than here.”

  “I’ll watch the door,” Greg offered.

  “Don’t bother,” Matt snorted. “He ain’t breaking out of those knots tonight.”

  “He’s right.” Ben also stifled a yawn. “It’s late. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow, so get some sleep while you can.”

  Bebe came awake with a start when he touched her thigh. Although she’d heard what they’d said, she hadn’t realized she’d started to drowse or that her head was nodding.

  “Bed down next to me,” he told her, bringing Will right out of the back shadows with a squawk of protest. He glared the younger man into silence. “That way I can make sure you’re not bothered.”

  Bebe didn’t want to, but this was one silent argument Ben had no intention of losing.

  There weren’t any beds. Just thick layers of hide mats laid out over the hard ground, just like at the Awful Place (although the mats there hadn’t been furry) before she went to live with Sir and Ma’am. Bebe lay down where he told her to; she was just too tired to keep resisting, although she did stiffen when Ben lowered himself behind her to share the mat. He spread his fur blanket over them both, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her back into the cradle of his hard body.

  “There,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

  His closeness effectively killed her need to sleep. She lay awake, staring into the fire long after all other movement stilled. For the longest time, nobody slept. There was a lot of deep breathing that resonated throughout the cave, but no snores.

  Ben’s exhales warmed the back of her neck, even and slow. Eventually his arm around her waist began to shift in her mind from an unwelcome weight to a grounding comfort. The furs were unpleasant to touch but warm, and her stomach gradually settled, accepting the food it had been given. As her body relaxed, a myriad of minor aches and pains pushed its way to the forefront of her awareness. Eventually even that eased, and at last Bebe grew sleepy once more.

  Until the long length of Ben shifted slightly behind her, his arm tightened a shade, drawing her faintly closer. He wasn’t breathing air so much as he seemed to be breathing her in, his face turning to bury itself in her hair.

  His hand moved across her stomach, petting her, caressing comforting circles that ended when his fingers skimmed across the front folds of Tral’s coat. They hesitated only a moment and then stole their way inside.

  His skin against hers felt warm and rough as his large hand spanned the width of her narrow waist. His hips moved closer, a hard bulge settling against her buttocks and pressing there. Ben inclined his head, burying his face deeper, breathing in her scent.

  Frozen in his embrace, Bebe stared across the cave into the fire. Beyond it, it wasn’t difficult to make out the shadows of the other three men. Matt lay on his back, hands folded behind his head, staring unblinkingly up at the shadow-black creatures crawling and squabbling for space along the cracks and crevices in the high ceiling. Will lay on his side, staring just as unblinkingly straight back at her. Greg had his back to everyone, and Ben moved his hand again, softly touching, stroking the bare, flinching skin of her belly in circles. Caressing, aimless, endless circles.

  Bebe trembled, but didn’t move. Not even when his fingers moved up over her ribs, the tips barely skimming the underside of her left breast. She closed her eyes then, turning her face into her pillowing arm. This didn’t feel right. She trembled, unsure what to do. He wasn’t Sir, and so she didn’t want to assume the position for him. But if she didn’t cooperat
e, would it be like in the Awful Place when the guards had pulled her from her cell and dragged her into the dark?

  As the gentle circles continued their laps, bare skin to hot bare skin, encompassing greater territories of unexplored flesh, she began to realize that this just didn’t feel the same. Not like Sir, and certainly not like the night the guards had pressed her squirming body to the floor and pried her legs apart. For all his scary words, Ben hadn’t tried to hurt her, and the soft hesitance of his caresses, his gentleness, was slowly bringing to life a tiny, unfamiliar spark of wanting deep in the pit of her stomach just under his hand.

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he followed the curve of her breast, molding it to fit the cup of his palm. The rasp of his calloused fingers caused her nipples to peak and tighten. Every touch, even the inadvertent brush of her clothes as she breathed, amplified this sudden and strange sensitivity all over her. Sensation, like thin, invisible strings, responded to his hand and tugged into her, traveling from the tips of her breasts all the way down into her womb and lower still, until she could feel it, that warming wanting, pooling between her legs.

  Ben swallowed hard, his hips rocking ever so slightly into hers, rubbing that prominent bulge into the valley between her buttocks. His breathing was still slow but somewhat uneven now. The brush of his lips caressed her nape, the heat of his sighing exhale leaving her flesh tingling as he squeezed her breast gently once and then abandoned it. Fingers trailing lightly back down over her tightening stomach, he found the fur-trimmed waist of her borrowed pants. He slipped them under the gut-thong cord, the heat of his open palm branding her lower belly as he caressed a fiery path down her abdomen.

  Thick masculine fingers wandered down over her mons, combing open the sensitive folds, seeking the wet heat centered within. Bebe drew a shaky breath, but her tentative cringe (she hadn’t been to the groomer all week; she knew she wasn’t as smooth as she was supposed to be) only shrank her deeper into his embrace. His mouth brushed the slope of her shoulder, branding her with feather-light kisses as he cupped her there, holding her in the heat of his hand. He swallowed again, hard, the tip of one finger sweeping along the silken seam, making her legs shiver before dipping into the luxurious heat of her body. A jolt of unexpected, unfamiliar sensation rocked her hips as his thumb searched for and found the tiny nub of pleasure hidden there, and Bebe caught her breath, choking back an involuntary cry.