Claimed By The Werebears of Green Tree (BBW Shifter MFM Romance)

by Meg Ripley

  He lifted her chin, so that her gaze met his once more. “I know what you’re thinking Amy,” he sighed. “You’re afraid I’m not coming back to you.”

  She nodded silently, tears welling up in her eyes as she finally heard the words in her head spoken aloud. Until this moment of post bliss connection, she hadn’t thought of his departure much. It was inevitable; he would have to leave. He kissed her lips, long and loving, and gave a saddened smile.

  “I promise you,” he whispered, “I will return to you soon. I have to tell my people that there’s another planet that can sustain us. It’s my duty—it’s bigger than me. You understand, right?”

  “Yes, I do,” she sobbed through the kisses. “I’m just afraid of losing you. I’ve gone my whole life waiting for you, Luke, and now I have to say goodbye.”

  He pulled her close to his chest, squeezing her naked body tightly in his arms and caressed her long hair. Amy thought she heard a sniffle escape him as he too shed a tear. She closed her eyes tightly and savored his embrace.

  “This is not goodbye,” he chuckled despite his sadness, “it’s more like ‘See ya’ll later.’ ”

  “You’re getting better at our slang now,” Amy joked, trying to lighten the damp mood.

  “Why yes, I reckon I am,” he teased, and they shared a long laugh in each other’s arms.

  ****

  Soon after that night, Luke had discovered that his ship could be fueled by organic matter, specifically the byproducts of fruits and vegetables grown on Amy’s farm, which meant he could now return home to save his people. After several days had come and gone, Luke’s ship was finally ready for departure, and the feeling of dread began to overtake her.

  Amy barely touched her meal that night, picking at the plate full of juicy ham and sweet potatoes. She gazed into her lover’s deep emerald eyes, knowing that he would soon be gone, trying her best to hold onto the hope that he would someday return to her arms once again.

  Amy shoved her plate aside, tears welling up in her eyes. Pushing his chair back, Luke reached out for her, coddling her in his giant arms. She sobbed in his t-shirt, wanting nothing more than to have him forever by her side. Luke held her so tightly, she thought she would lose her breath—and he, too, shed a tear.

  He nudged her back, planting a deep, wet kiss on her lips, locked in a lover’s embrace that could only be experienced with true love. He gave her an eager smile and released his arms once more.

  Luke cracked a sheepish smile, “I forgot… I have something for you. Why don’t you come out to the field and see me off?”

  He took Amy’s hand and led her outside to the ship, past the cattle languidly grazing in field. She knew it was selfish, but she longed to convince him to stay; to find another way to signal his people that didn’t involve that tedious journey. What if he was hurt—or worse, killed—upon his return trip? Despite her true feelings, she knew in her heart that she had to let him go. An entire race of people sat anxiously awaiting his return, their very lives hanging in the balance.

  Once they reached the ship, he squeezed her hand, “I’ll be back in just a moment.” He pressed a shimmering green button, opening the door with a long hiss. He returned a minute later, holding something tightly in his hand. Facing her, Luke opened his hand; Amy glanced down to look, tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. In his palm was ring, his large hands dwarfing its size. She leaned in closer and gasped in amazement to find the most beautiful gem set inside. It was light blue with little white tufts moving through it, almost like a summer sky adorned by wispy white clouds. Amy had never seen anything like it and marveled at its beauty.

  “It was my mother’s,” he spoke softly, lifting her ring finger with his free hand. “On my planet, it’s a tradition for the male to go out in search of almerade, which means ‘sky rock’ in your language, to give to his one true love when he finds her. It’s a promise of forever, as long as the skies above still stand.”

  She gazed at the ring, then back to Luke’s loving smile. Was he proposing? Slowly, Luke slid the ring onto her finger and Amy felt as if the ground beneath her had caved in, her heart ready to explode. The world spun in a mixture of happiness and impending sadness, knowing that she must part ways with her love, if only for a short time. He leaned in for a final kiss, the emotions stirring in both of them, then backed away towards the door of the ship.

  “I must go now, my love.” His emerald eyes remained locked with hers as he stepped aboard, the humming of his engine filling the space around her. At the door, he paused for one last loving gaze. “See ya later.” He smiled the warmest smile he could muster.

  “See ya later,” she replied; the look of sadness was clear on both of their faces.

  Amy watched until the ship was clear out of sight, gazing longingly at the now empty space between two stars. Half-heartedly, she trudged back to the house. Shiloh lifted her head from her place near the fireplace as Amy entered and slumped down into the chair. She felt so empty; the eerie sound of a silence house bothering her like it never had before. With a sigh, she headed towards the staircase, glancing longingly at the ring upon her finger. Just as she reached the first step, the sound of static filtered through the air around her, like a CB radio had switched on somewhere near the mantle.

  “Come in, Cowgirl,” the voice was familiar, “This is Space Man… can you hear me?”

  She walked cautiously back into the living room and glanced around; nothing seemed to be disturbed. Shiloh lifted her head once more as the voice echoed again.

  “Amy, can you hear me?” It was Luke, but coming from where, she didn’t know. “Shiloh, Girl, go show Amy your collar!”

  There upon Shiloh’s collar dangled a shiny bauble; to the untrained eye, it would appear to be nothing more than a fancy silver trinket. She unhitched it from the collar, examining it in greater detail. A tiny, emerald green button popped up on the back that Amy hesitantly pressed.

  “Luke, is that you?” She lifted her finger to listen.

  “Yes, it is,” he laughed, “Surprise! Now you can communicate with me until I reach the outer limits of my home galaxy. I thought this might help us both, you know, in case you might miss me or something.”

  Amy rolled her eyes and pressed the button once more, “Miss you? Now why in the world would I do that?”

  Luke’s laughter filled the room. Perhaps she would be able to bear their time apart after all. Regardless of what came their way, Amy knew deep in her soul that Luke was forever hers, and she would wait as long as it took for him to return to her arms once again. She walked up the stairs towards her bed to rest, clutching the silver ball tightly in her hand.

  “Oh, Amy?” his voice echoed from her hand just as she reached the bedroom. “I forgot to tell you something… I love you.”

  Amy flopped down onto the squeaking mattress with a bright smile on her face. Shiloh clambered up the stairs and joined her in her usual place at the foot of the bed.

  Amy pressed the green button once more and sighed, “Luke, I love you more than you’ll ever know. Please come home soon.” She smiled, placing the trinket radio on the pillow beside her and gazed into the magnificent ring. Her eyes closing, she daydreamed about what life would be like, just the two of them alone on their farm. Maybe they’d raise a family of their own someday. The smile faded as she drifted into a deep sleep. Someday, soon enough, Luke’s loving gaze would be upon her again, his embrace filling her with love and desire. The whole experience had been so mind blowing, a whirr of emotions and the most amazing love story her mind could have ever conceived. She was in love with an alien, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Chosen Alien Gene: Joran’s Quest

  Joran felt the buzz of the comm unit on his wrist as he strode through the human train station; for the moment he ignored it. His superiors on the ship could wait for his progress report—he had more interesting things directly in front of him.

  He had spent the months of transit to this planet in prepara
tion for the assignment he and twenty other scientists had been given; Joran smiled slightly to himself in memory of the research. The planet they had come to was densely populated—much more so than his home planet, Khatanar (called Tau Ceti e by Earthlings)—with lower gravity and a refreshingly lower normal temperature everywhere. The dominant life forms on the planet, the humans, were more diverse genetically than the Khateen, Joran’s own species. That genetic diversity was both the reason for the mission and the biggest hurdle to the goal of the mission.

  Joran watched as a human woman paused at a ticket kiosk, glancing around furtively. She had been the focus of his attention from the moment she stepped onto the train; while Joran had not quite become accustomed to the various shapes, sizes, and traits of human females—and he had not yet come around to find them precisely attractive in a sexual sense—it was difficult for him not to stare from behind the dark-tinted glasses that he had adopted as part of his costume.

  She was of medium height for human norms, and would have only reached Joran’s chest, standing in front of him. Somehow, however, when she stepped onto the train, looking around quickly to find a free seat, she seemed taller—an anomaly that Joran couldn’t quite understand. Her clothing subtly emphasized her full, heavy-looking breasts, the narrowing at her waist, and the flare of hips that suggested that she was sexually mature—and that she would be a very viable option for reproduction.

  Joran had felt a hot jolt of something he couldn’t initially identify; keener than objective interest, more potent than scientific curiosity. He had carefully avoided her notice even as he stared at her, and even as he followed her off of the train and into the station. It had been impossible not to see the sway of her hips as she walked in front of him; he wondered why every male in the crowded train station wasn’t responding to it. Joran had watched a great deal of educational material, excerpts taken by his superiors and compiled in order to understand the vagaries of human sexuality.

  His comm unit buzzed at his wrist again. Joran tapped the screen, sending an acknowledgement. He may have found the subject he was sent to locate; the thought filled him with a mixture of heady scientific interest and something much more intensely personal.

  The mission Joran had signed on for was to locate specimens of the human race—female, for the purposes of the current mission, though there were some among the scientific community who thought that a future mission should include males of the species—in order to determine whether a hybrid race could be created. From what little understanding the Khateen had of the human genetic code, it was more complex than their own, far less stable, and prone to mutations. The humans themselves did not seem to recognize the wealth that this trait had—their efforts at genetic engineering were still in infancy, and information gleaned about common opinions on the subject suggested that most were against the idea of tampering.

  The question at hand was whether scientists could somehow cross the inter-species barrier between the two races, to either incorporate human genetics into their own code, or to create a new race that combined the benefits of both. Joran and his colleagues were each assigned the task of recruiting human females for experimentation; and Joran thought to himself, watching the woman walking away from the kiosk, looking around the station for the signs, that he may have found an excellent subject indeed. Everything about her boasted reproductive viability; her general shape, the look of good health, and something like vigor in the way she moved told him that she was likely fertile. Joran felt another hot jolt work through him as he surreptitiously moved closer to her, the better to take in details.

  The more he watched her, the more Joran began to think of how he could persuade this woman to come with him. He knew from his research that human females were highly alert to improper advances; there was something he had read, a human essay, about a phenomenon called “cat-calling,” which suggested that if he tried to make an overt move—especially a loud or vocal one—she would reject him outright, feeling threatened by his aggressiveness.

  Joran tried to decide how best to approach this female. On Khatanar, it would be so much simpler; mating was decided by genetic index, with mates chosen from a pool of candidates based on the need to unite and mingle families rather than individuals. From what Joran had seen in his attentive watching of human film art, this was not generally the case among their people. There was a complex, often paradoxical dance that seemed to result in failure much more frequently than success. And yet there were so many humans on the planet that Joran’s superiors had thought for certain that none of the women they took for the purposes of their testing would be missed. They would be less than a drop in a barrel, as far as the population of the planet’s humans were concerned.

  He contemplated how he would perform the maneuver that he had seen called “breaking the ice” with this female as he followed her towards the newly-arrived train, and Joran thought that he would soon see just how well the various safeguards he had been told to implement worked to disguise him as a human male. If nothing else, he thought wryly, it would be a good test; but he knew that if he were not able to recruit this woman, he would be very disappointed in himself.

  ****

  Adriana felt as though someone was watching her; she couldn’t put her finger on where the gaze was coming from, but nonetheless the sensation of being watched—and even more, of being followed—stayed with her from the moment she had gotten onto the first train of her trek until the moment she sat down on the second one. It was not precisely a creepy feeling; she couldn’t sense any kind of malice from the source, or anything that raised more of a red flag in her mind than the pure sensation of being watched. I have a can of mace, and I have those silly self-defense classes. If that’s not enough to protect me, then I’m doomed. She was traveling to visit a cousin; Susannah, who lived in a town so small that the nearest airport was more than a hundred miles away, was having a difficult pregnancy with her third child, and Adriana had volunteered to take some of the pressure off of her by cooking and babysitting the older two children while Susannah worked.

  A man sat down a few seats away from her on the train, and Adriana glanced at him curiously. He was tall, with a lean muscular build that seemed a little too perfect, clothed in the most nondescript outfit she could imagine: jeans that bore no particular brand, a tee shirt that just fit him without being either baggy or tight, and a pair of sunglasses. His skin seemed somehow strange in her cursory glance; it was somewhere between brown and gray, not sickly looking but not quite what she was used to seeing. His hair was thick, cut close to his skull, and an inky black that didn’t look exactly like it was natural to his skin tone. Adriana thought idly that he might have been the source of the sensation she was feeling; but he sat easily, not fidgeting or anything. He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who would just grab her, try to attack her. In fact, somehow in spite of her sudden conviction that he had followed her—she thought she might have seen him in the corner of her eye on the last train—she didn’t have any sense of danger from the man.

  She turned away, looking out through the window as the train pulled away from the station. This leg of her journey would be longer than the first; she had packed a lunch for herself along with the changes of clothes in her backpack. Adriana watched the scenery flow past her and considered taking her food out. She was more bored than hungry, she knew; but something about realizing that she was, in fact, being watched made her want to do something, just for the sake of activity.

  It’s not being watched, she thought after a moment’s reflection. It’s like I’m being observed. She felt less as though some creepy guy was staring at her from behind dark sunglasses and more like the subject of some kind of anthropologist; or some kind of science experiment. Adriana couldn’t quite think of how she had arrived at that conclusion—how it was that she could decipher intent from a guy who hadn’t spoken to her, who she didn’t even actually know was watching her—but there it was.

  Before Adriana could de
cide how she had arrived at the conclusion, her thoughts were interrupted by someone close by clearing their throat. She turned her head, and the man from before was standing in the aisle, his attention obviously on her. “I’m sorry if I have upset you,” the man said, “but I saw that you were traveling alone, and thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind company for a little while.” Adriana frowned slightly; the man had a strange, almost guttural accent—combined with an even stranger precision in his enunciation. Where in the world is he from? Up close, he was even taller than he had seemed; Adriana thought that if she stood, she would at best reach his chest.

  “I guess that would be okay,” she said cautiously. Adriana worried at her lower lip, and somehow felt rather than saw the man’s gaze shift from her eyes to her mouth. There was something compelling about the man; in spite of her surprise, she still didn’t feel even a trace of danger from him. “Have a seat,” she suggested, pointing to the empty one next to her.

  “Thank you very much,” the man said, sitting down. Adriana felt dwarfed by his size, and shifted instinctively closer to the window—but the man didn’t sprawl or try to invade her space. “Where are you headed?”

  Adriana smiled in spite of herself, shrugging. “I’m going to visit a cousin who lives in the middle of nowhere,” she explained. “She’s having trouble with her third pregnancy and needs someone to lend a helping hand.”

  “That is very kind of you,” the man replied. He paused, and Adriana intuited that he was mentally translating something—his accent and his speech told her that he was definitely foreign, though it was not an accent that she could place. “Oh! I almost forgot, I should ask your name.”

  Adriana stifled a laugh at the odd syntax; he was definitely strange, but it was obvious that he was making an effort to speak well, to be polite. “I’m Adriana,” she said. “And you?”