“Hunh. Uhn. Huh.” Tokre blinked, then blinked again, his mouth opening and closing as those funny What the hell, woman?! sounds left him.
What better time to not have a certain orange-eyed, blue topped fluff monster on hand to translate, I thought with a self-deprecating snort.
Turning, I forced myself to face the music, no matter how inarticulate the band leader was as he continued to gape down at me, gesturing wildly between the direction his paste had just grown wings to fly and my intentionally blanked expression. His head followed with the motion, until I worried he might give himself whiplash.
“Uhn. Hunh. Uhn!” The gesturing grew wilder at my approach.
My mate-husband was getting good and riled.
Knowing he wouldn’t understand anything I said, I followed his gaze as it once again flashed to the hut I’d catapulted the paste over. Placing my hand on his chest, I took a step towards him, until my icy feet brushed the insides of his monster clod hoppers.
No matter how annoyed he tried to look as his chin dipped and he glowered down at me, he couldn’t hide the happy purr rumbling to life inside of him to tumble from those beastly lips at the feel of my hand on him.
Lifting onto my tiptoes, I took a cue from Joanie, the master manipulator, having seen her in action with her stream of ‘innocent’, unsuspecting douchewads throughout the years, and smiled up at my male sweetly.
My hand slid up his chest, until I couldn’t reach any further, and I placed a quick, chaste kiss to the underside of his pec, the closest my short ass could come to his face.
Tokre’s purr went supernova, rumbling so loud I wondered if it was possible for one of these Lo denaii to break the sound barrier. Could he do the opera singer thing and shatter a glass?
My mate-husband’s head bent and, as if he’d forgotten all about his chucked paste, he leaned in close, bending at the knees, and nuzzled the top of my head.
“Good morning, baby,” I cooed, faking a soft purr when his hand brushed my chest.
Tokre groaned and pulled back, the saddest look on his face as he cast a longing look just over that one specific hut.
This just furthered my suspicion that he was fully aware of the power of the hoo-hah paste, whether he initially had been or not. And he’d wanted to use it on me yet again? Hah! Yeah, I don’t think so buddy!
“Ah… sore at being foiled,” I said in a mock deep voice, nodding sagely. Words and actions that had my mate frowning down at me in consternation. “Oh, I’m on to you,” I accused, miming the paste and where he was fond of placing it on my person, then back at him, and finally over that darned hut.
Tokre’s chest lifted as he sucked in a deep breath, but he held it in, like my crapping game of you done got caught, son, had clicked and he wasn’t about to acknowledge that wild bologna with any kind of response.
Oh, but the blush, it said more than a quick shake of his head in denial or a nod ever could.
“Makes us even, then,” I called sweetly, wishing more than anything we could communicate. I can’t even call him out on his shit properly, I thought, huffing in frustration.
Tokre let out a soft chuff, huffing softly when I paused to stare up at him, treating him to a haughty huff and a chuff myself.
Pulling back to practically prance around him, my feet were so numb I had tiny, needle-sized ice picks jabbing them, I danced/ran my way back to the hut. Once there, I slid under the bed to retrieve Dorothy’s paste. My fingers had barely clamped around it when the door closed quietly.
Tokre’s grunts grew louder and louder as he approached.
Sliding back out from beneath the bed, I came face to knees with a generously furred set of thick, muscled legs.
Holding the jar up like an offering, I smiled a close-lipped smile. “See? I got a better one.” I waggled the jar and lifted it higher. “All better!”
Scowling at this point, barely repressed post-paste-chucking annoyance, confusion, and wonder all vied as he took the small jar, uncapping it, dipping his finger in, and gave the contents a deep sniff. A soft grunt left him and he pulled the jar back just in time to turn his head and sneeze lightly.
“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to inhale the stuff,” I told him, gazing up at him earnestly.
Capping the jar, Tokre handed it back to me, then stood back. His hands lifted and he scrubbed them down his face, as if in exasperation. Grunting and making noises, possibly neither beastly or an attempt at English but simply confused frustration, he peeked through his long fingers to scowl down at me.
Sharp black eyes swirled with irritated confusion.
“What?” My hands lifted and I gave a half-shrug. His hand lifted and he slowly pointed out the door. Why? that look said. That hand pointing adding, what the heck was all that about? Explain yourself.
“It’s bad,” I replied succinctly, pointing towards the door just like he had to shake my head. “Bad,” I tried again, making hand gestures. Arms out, hands waving about, I made a cutting motion, my hand slashing out, waggling my finger in a no-no, anything I could think of to try and get the point across, complete with wild, comically overdone animated features.
Oh, the look of utter bewilderment coming over my beast groom.
“Okay, time to pull out the big guns,” I muttered with a defeated sigh. Pointing to my paste, I made a yay face, happy-happy and all that bullshit, then slowly slid my hand down my dress, stopping right over my crotch to make slow, circular motions and more ridiculously stupid happy faces.
I had the male’s full attention now, his eyes glued to the vicinity of the goods.
Alrighty, now for part two.
Pointing towards the door yet again, I let my free hand travel down the same path it had before, stopping to hover over the juncture of my thighs.
“No good.” I shook my head and groaned, grimacing, bending forward to clench my hand to my stomach. More head shaking and mouthing, no, at the male.
Tokre, his eyes dancing between my hands and my face, scrunching up along with the funny faces I was making to smooth out and scrunch up again as those dark eyes found my hand clenched in a fist, so near his favorite place, was trying to understand, at least, or so I was gathering.
He was definitely trying, I thought. He didn’t appear mad or ready to snarl and do as he pleased anyhow, and that was more than a miracle.
And then it clicked, that little lightbulb over the head clicking on look coming over the beastie. Ah, I thought with mild amusement, he has seen the light!
Tokre took one, two big beastly steps towards me, until he was practically standing over me, to stare down at me.
Still hunched over, miming away, I paused and glanced up at him. “You understand?” I asked hopefully, my hands slowly dropping to my sides. Eyebrows lifting, pulling out of my hunching position to stand, I met his strangely hypnotizing gaze unflinchingly.
I suppose this could work, this communication barrier stuff, I thought with a small, soft smile. We’d find a way to get our points across, eventually.
Tokre dropped down before me, his hands going to my hips to give my waist a not so gentle squeeze.
“Oh, hold up there, buddy. What are yo- Wha-ah!!” And then I was up, like a small child playing airplane, to be thrust through the air and plopped down unceremoniously onto the middle of the bed. “G-g-gr-gah-blah!” That was all I could manage.
Tokre tossed a pelt over my lower half, tucking me in like one might a child or a sick friend, and stepped back. My beast-mate motioned for me to stay put, bending down and leaning in to nuzzle his nose along the length of mine.
A soft, affectionate purr rumbling his chest, tumbling from those wide, dark lips of his, with a press of his forehead to mine and a hand to my chest, he pulled back.
Stay, he kept motioning, backing away slowly until his furry back hit the front door.
“Uhm… okay,” I mumbled awkwardly, taking my turn as the utterly confused participant in all this ish.
Tokre, with one last motion f
or me to stay, hurried out the door, a sudden harried look about the odd beast.
“Uh-huh.” Sitting up, I sighed heavily, lifting the pelts off my legs. “Whatever the frick that was all about.”
With a shake of my head I scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs over the side, and stood up.
He couldn’t have gone far, and he’d be back sooner than later, I knew, not after that crap Rek had pulled. Nope, my ass wouldn’t be left unguarded for much longer than the time it might take me to relieve myself. Or so it felt. I’d have argued about him leaving at all if I’d thought he’d listen. For a beastie who’d just had his ass handed to him, he was rebounding wonderfully.
Yep, thanks a fucking lot, Rek, you…you damned homewrecker, I thought with a snicker.
Hah. Home-Rek-er. I snorted out loud at the thought.
Well, if anything this was a golden opportunity to do just that, go.
Glancing around, knowing the ruckus going around back to have a little golden streaming morning moment would cause, I resolved myself to a bit of medieval madness, aka squatting over a beastly pee pot or chamber pot, to let it all go.
Right as I finished up, washing my hands and placing Tokre’s port-o-pot-o-pee out of the way, beastly grumbling reached my ears. The door swung open and Tokre peered inside. Covered in a thin layer of white, snowy fluff, he snuffled and grunted, his lips pulled back in a pre-snarl, dark eyes narrowed as he searched the room. Upon spotting me and finding me well and undisturbed, he ducked back out. There was rustling, like a dog trying to shake itself out, and I turned towards the door to watch curiously as he did just that.
My eyes were drawn to the line of his neck, the thick, bunching of muscle coming up from his shoulders to meet it on either side of his head, just behind his ears, that made it look short. The beast was thick, and powerful, heavily muscled yet surprisingly limber. He could easily take down a human or two, or three or four. No, more, if I was factoring in speed.
And what would he do to you if you tried to escape him, the voice in my head asked oh so sweetly. What was he capable of, should I ever find myself in want of his favor, angrily thrust out of it. What would he do to me then?
A soft grunt left the male, his hand grasping a fat, wooden beam overhead that made up the doorframe. The strange looking wood was bleach white, as snowy alabaster as his deathly pale, naturally blue tinged looking skin. Sharp, dark claws flexed on hands like a catcher’s mitt, scratch-scratching against the wood. As his fingers shifted they left tell-tale gouges behind. If he’d really wanted to, I’d be dead before I knew what happened.
But, no, he wouldn’t hurt me, I countered.
If I ran out that door there were two things that could possibly go down—one, he’d hunt me down and drag me back home, hell-bent on trying to re-claim me, via splitting me in two with his massive beast salami; or, two, freak out, panic, tumble to the floor and curl up in a giant, beastly ball and howl at the loss. There really didn’t appear to be an in-between with the male.
He craves acceptance, no matter how much it might appear he’s trying to keep away from the others. It wasn’t that hard to see. They, his people, had rejected him first, forcing his mother to bring him here, and then again by the tribe of undesirables, as they were thought of, so he’d simply adapted and kept himself away.
How lonely and desolate that must be, must feel. How utterly and completely unwanted. And he’d taken a human bride to try and find some semblance of family, having found himself suddenly missing the only being who’d probably ever given him any true sense of belonging.
I almost wanted to be mad at Zhuii for not standing by Tokre’s side, like Tokre’s mother had in taking in the blue-haired male all those years ago, as Dorothy had said, wishing things had been different.
Wishes get you nowhere, so what’s the use of dwelling, my snarky half chided. No use dwelling. What had been done was done, and Tokre’s already been molded into the being he is now. And it wasn’t like I had the whole story. Zhuii was considered an oddball in his own right. I had no clue what it was like for the blue-tinged beast, either.
And now I’m stuck with an emotional beast, a communication barrier between us, a reluctant translator—though I couldn’t really blame him, truthfully, if that’s how these beasts operated—an out of service hoo-hah, trapped on this alternate dimension? Plane of existence? My own world quickly aging, passing me by, no way home and no way out.
Except death, I corrected, gulping, but that wasn’t exactly an option for me.
A grunt and a harsh chuff drew me from my thoughts. Tokre stepped inside, sniffed once, and shuffled closer. His eyes found the chamber pot, ready for emptying, and he gave a grunt of approval. Gah. I wanted to shush him and hide, but said nothing.
My face flushed, shoulders hunching as my frame stiffened, my back to him, and I cringed inwardly. Couldn’t say I’d ever get used to that, or watching him lift the pot to carry it outside and dispose of it, like this was all no big deal.
It was to me, and I wanted to cry out at the loss of a bathroom, public or otherwise. Hell, I’d settle for a dirty outhouse at this point!
Oh, what I’d give for a nasty gas station bathroom right about now, I lamented mournfully.
The task only took the male all of three minutes, and he was back, lumbering inside to place the newly emptied pot back where I’d set it.
Something flashed, a bit of color in the beast’s hand. When he looked up I pointed. “What’s that?”
With a hard chuff, my beast-husband motioned for me to retake my place in the middle of the bed, waiting for me to do so before he moved closer.
One hand on the bed, he leaned over me, with what I liked to think of as his resting bastard face firmly in place. A heavy growling sound rumbling his throat, he opened his huge mitt of a paw.
“You went out and retrieved it? Are you serious?!” I gasped out in disbelief, my gaze ping-ponging between his and that stupid container. “And after- And what I- Oh, I can’t even- And after all that miming and dancing around and- I acted like I had a mad case of diarrhea and the world’s worst period for you!” I burst out. My hand swiped out, and I would’ve snatched up that stupid magical hoo-hah salve/fuck me lube, but the blasted giant yanked his hand back before I had the chance.
Tokre let out a soft gasp as I scowled up at him, shaking my head and waggling a finger at him. I didn’t need to shout, “No!” he could see it written all over my angry face.
“This is ridiculous!” I huffed and chuffed, hopping up to rush around him. “We need one of those damned translator dealies! The one’s they use to talk to other aliens in the movies! Ugh! Why is it never this easy in real life?!!” Thinking of the reluctant, sassy Zoo-baby who’d all but demanded Tokre allow him to move in with us, dead-bent on becoming one of my harem of hairy husbands, you’d think the male would be a little more eager to please, if he wanted a spot in the Rosie love nest! But nooooo. “And where is that cotton candy headed furball when you need him?!” Marching over to the table, taking the precaution of putting the length of wood between us, I took my stand. “Now listen here, mister,” I stated frankly, the irony of that statement not lost on me, “you will not be putting that vile paste of yours anywhere near my person, I don’t care what your deal is about it.”
I’d gotten used to miming everything as I spoke, and right now was no different.
Tokre made funny noises as I spoke, going so far as to mimic my dying vagina faces and motions, and lifting the paste up for me to see.
“No!” I was shouting now. “I meant it’s making it do that, not relieving it!” But it didn’t matter how many times I shook my head, mouthed no, or gestured for him to chuck that shit right this minute, he just didn’t understand.
We went on like this, until my stomach started snarling.
“Don’t think I’m giving in,” I warned the damned stubborn male with a finger jab in his direction. My eyes narrowed darkly, my lips already pursed in annoyance. “We’ll be f
inding Zhuii and, honey, we will be finishing this pussy paste fiasco, once and for all.”
Thinking of pussy paste reminded me I probably should’ve put some from Dorothy on earlier, certain parts of my anatomy twinging slightly as if in agreement, my thighs protesting first and foremost.
“You really are a beast,” I mumbled absently, closing the distance between us until we were toe to toe, to crane my neck and stare up at him.
His fur brushed the column of my throat, my head tilting far enough back to crick it, just to see him. I shuffled closer, a few scant inches separating us.
Tokre’s hand flexed, his arm jerking up. Staring down at me quietly, he lifted his magical paste high over his head, his feet starting to shift nervously, like he feared I might jump up there and try to take it away from him.
“I’m hungry.” Leaning in close, pressing myself into his stomach, my head barely coming to the bottom of his muscled pecs, my eyes met his and I gave a tiny pout. “Food.”
Tokre let out the softest of chuffs, like he’d forgotten how to breathe at the sight of my plump lower lipping popping out. Widening my light brown eyes, I fluttered my long lashes, forcing a mock purr up my throat.
“Hunh.” Another soft chuff from my male, the sound making me smile. Then he started to purr, loud.
“Food.” Pointing to my mouth, licking my lips, I pressed close enough he could feel the demon in my belly demanding sustenance as it gurgled monstrously.
Tokre’s free hand came around my waist, his paste holding arm slowly lowering.
Feeling powerful, emboldened, I kept it up, my hands slowly sliding up his chest. He grunted, his eyes automatically closing, his fur bristling as he shivered and his skin prickled.
Oh yeah, I thought, wishing I could really purr like the tigerlady I strived to be.
My fingers curled, mimicking claws, and I raked them down his abdomen.
Tokre groaned, his grip on his coveted sex salve loosening as his fingers twitched.
Bride of Glass Page 25