Challa

by Linda Mooney

  When he collapsed on the mattress, he also released her hips, and Challa draped herself over him, snuggling against his chest. The scent of warm oranges tinged with the equally tangy smell of lemonade filled her head.

  She almost burst into tears. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. How could loving him be so perfect? And yet they weren’t life mates?

  His body jerked. His hands left warm patches on her bare skin when he lifted them off of her. “What time is it?” She felt him raise his arm and heard his sigh. “It’s after seven. Gives us time for a quick shower and some breakfast.” One large hand gently brushed away the hair that had fallen over her face. “How do you feel?”

  She quickly swiped at her tears. “Strange.” It was an honest answer. What she didn’t expect was for him to suddenly lift her off his chest so he could gaze into her face.

  “Are you crying? Why? Did I—”

  “No,” she hurried to assure him. Somehow she was able to put a smile on her face. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Compton. You’ve done everything…right.” A quick kiss was enough to convince him. A sweet kiss. A tender kiss that threatened to deepen into another passionate coupling until Compton reluctantly pulled back.

  “Come on. I want to bathe you.”

  He didn’t dump his artificial leg until they got to the bathroom. She started the water while he lit an old gas flame heater. Challa noticed how he watched her with an amused look on his face as she used the toilet.

  “I have to pee just like you do,” she commented.

  “I figured you might be built similarly, considering we just had the most fantastic sex in the world.” He chuckled. He continued to watch as she pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped into the spray, wetting down herself and her hair. “Why don’t you change so I can see you bathing as an alien?”

  She wiped the water from her eyes. “I can’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “Once the sun comes up, it locks me into whatever shape I’ve taken. I can’t change until after dark.”

  “Honest?”

  She shot him a look that immediately got a grin in return.

  “So, when morning comes, what? Do you have to set the alarm every night just so you can wake up in time to change into your human self before sunrise?”

  “Actually, I’ve managed to adapt to changing into a human just as my body senses it. Sort of. I mean, I can still be asleep, but I change anyway without having to be awake to think about it.” She glanced pointedly at his wristwatch where he’d set it on the back of the sink. “It’s not too different from waking up at the same time each morning, even if you don’t set your clock to wake you.”

  “Okay. That was an honest answer.” Compton chuckled. “Move over. I’m coming in.”

  The handrails made sense to her now as she watched him move with the rhythm and grace of a gymnast, shifting his weight from one hand to the other, back and forth, as he balanced on his single leg. He reached past her to snag a washcloth.

  “Care to put some of that shower gel on this for me?” he asked, indicating a bottle sitting on a small shelf behind her. Challa quickly complied. “Turn around,” he ordered, and began to scrub her back and buttocks with one hand.

  He moved slowly, almost provocatively, over her skin. Pushing aside her hair in order to get to her neck and shoulders. After going over her sides and hips, he bent down to do the backs of her legs. The only sounds in the bathroom were the soft hiss of the gas heater, the steady downpour from the shower, and Compton’s loud breathing.

  “Okay. Now turn around.”

  Challa turned to face him, and was met by the sight of his member protruding like a crooked club from his groin. She started to reach for it, but stopped herself. Instead, she looked up into his face and smiled.

  “Challa, you’re too damn beautiful for your own good,” he muttered. The hand holding the soapy rag reached out to caress her breasts. Challa became aware of the foam slowly drifting downward as he continued to bathe her. “Tell me something?”

  “What?”

  “How is it you’re able to look human?”

  “Kreesi said we can mimic almost every sentient life form. It’s something Ruinos have always been able to do. I don’t know why or how. That much was never explained to me.”

  “Who’s Kreesi?”

  “She…was…my teacher. She was the oldling on the ship. She taught those of us who needed to learn the ways of the Ruinos.” Challa smiled. “She’s the one who told us how we would find our life mate, and what to look for.”

  “Where is Kreesi now? Is she at the carnival?” He was finished with her waist and ribs, and was bending over to do her lower extremities. “Spread your legs.”

  Challa spread them as much as she was able in the narrow confines of the tub. Compton slid the rag between her legs, teasing between her lower lips, and rubbing the soapy cloth over her nubs. A shiver ran through her, and Compton smiled.

  “Like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “If this tub wasn’t so damn hard on the knee, I’d get down and see if I could make you come with my mouth.”

  The mere thought of him taking her that way was enough to send a wave of shivers trickling through her. When he took his hand away, she opened her eyes to stare at him. Instead, the washcloth was hanging an inch away from her nose.

  “Now you do me,” Compton said.

  She waited for him to hop around and present his back to her while she applied a bit more shower gel to the rag. Instead of starting with his back, she kneeled down and began with his foot and calf.

  “Challa, you said a woman named Kreesi was your teacher?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about your parents? Were they with you?”

  She started to answer when Compton gave a bark of laughter.

  “Sorry, honey. There’s so many questions I want to ask you. A lot of questions. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” she honestly replied. “My parents are dead. They died on the ship.”

  “On the escape ship?”

  “No. On the slave ship.”

  She loved the way his buttocks clenched when she washed them. He moved, and she glanced up to see him peering down at her. “Can I ask how they died?” he softly said.

  “They were tortured.”

  At those words, memories rose up like a thick cloud of dust. The screaming. The blood. Heavens give me mercy. There was so much blood the smell remained on her for days afterward. Challa was unaware of her reaction until warm, wet fingers lightly touched her forehead.

  “Hey. I’m sorry. Look, we’ll talk about it later, okay? When you’re able to tell me more.”

  Nodding slightly, Challa sniffed and got to her feet to work on his back and arms. She noticed there were many small scars and signs of older wounds. Compton bent his head to let her wash his neck.

  “You were hurt, too.”

  “Yeah. When they pulled me out of what was left of the Humvee, the paramedics originally gave me less than a twenty percent chance of survival.”

  “Why did you go to war, Compton? Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger?”

  She paused in her ministrations. Compton obligingly turned around to let her wash his front. Amazingly, his erection never flagged. He saw her staring at it and blushed.

  “I guess Old Glory is trying to make up for lost time.”

  Challa gave him a puzzled look. This time Compton chuckled.

  “Men like to name their dicks. I call mine Old Glory. No big deal.”

  “You are a strange man, Compton Scott.” She laughed. “Now answer my question. Why would you deliberately go somewhere where you could be killed?”

  “It’s…it’s a long story. The Reader’s Digest version is this. I was a nerd all my years in school. I was fat. The stereotypical outcast with braces and zits. The whole works. I had few friends and nada girlfriends. The other kids at school called me names like ‘in-Comp-etent’ and ‘nin-Comp-poop’. I
hated the idea of going to college and taking another four or five years of name calling. So after I gave it one semester to please my mom, I decided to enlist in the Army.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes as she bathed his hard-on. Her hands were gentle around his ball, and especially careful with the stump of his missing leg.

  “That’s why you had never made love before,” Challa murmured.

  “Huh?” Compton opened his eyes to see her smiling at him.

  “You said you enlisted in the Army,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah. I enlisted. Let me tell you, after six weeks in boot camp and six more weeks of skill drills, I didn’t look anything like the old Compton Scott. I lost a lot of weight, and I actually packed on some muscles!”

  The rag slid over his pecs and nipples. His skin goose pimpled from her touch. A shiver shot from his brain to his groin, and his erection bobbed against her belly.

  “I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the day,” he apologized. “Hurry up, Challa. Or else I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and somehow get you back onto that bed.”

  She gave him a wide-eyed, happy look. “I won’t mind!”

  Chuckling, Compton also groaned. “Shit. Don’t do this to me. Hurry up. The sooner we get you to the sheriff’s office, the sooner we can get your name cleared.”

  She stepped aside to let the tepid water rinse him off. “What will happen after that?”

  He wiped water from his eyes before replying. “After that, I’m taking you over to city hall to apply for a marriage license.”

  Chapter 19

  Breakfast

  Several hard flicks to his dick finally brought his erection down enough to where Compton could pull on his jeans. His skin felt like a swarm of angry bees were dive-bombing him, and his ball was drawn up inside his body cavity.

  Two strong comes, and they hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of his need for her. Now Compton could understand why people went on honeymoons where they could assuage their hunger for each other whenever the need overwhelmed them.

  “Compton, what can I wear?”

  Challa was finished with combing the tangles out of her long hair. Wet hair that was the color of his mother’s American Evening Sunset roses that still bloomed outside the bedroom window. Her question reminded him she’d only been wearing the thin body suit when they had arrived at the house last night. The suit he had shredded by accident in his haste to strip it off of her.

  “Uhh, hold on. Let me check up in the attic.”

  After his mother died, Compton had placed all her clothes and private possessions in several boxes, and stored them in the attic. He didn’t have the heart to give them away, figuring that once he was gone, too, whoever came to take care of his things would pass the other stuff along for him.

  He found the box of clothing where he remembered putting it, and carried it into the bedroom to place it on the bed. He was aware of the fact that Challa had made the bed during his brief absence. For being such an ordinary chore, her orderliness surprised him.

  “Mom was petite like you. One of her dresses might fit you.”

  Challa gave him a smile of thanks as she opened the box and dug inside. She pulled out a simple house dress in navy blue with buttons running down the front. Compton remembered his mother calling it her Sunday go-to-church dress.

  Challa quickly slipped it over her head. The bust was a bit loose, but otherwise the garment seemed to work. She stared down at her bare feet. “What size feet did she have? I’m a six and a half.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t save the shoes. How about a pair of my dress socks?” The combination wouldn’t look fashionable, but at least her feet wouldn’t be cold. Compton dug a navy blue pair out of his bureau drawer and tossed them to her. A quick glance at the alarm clock by the bed read twenty minutes until eight. “Toaster waffles okay with you?” he asked.

  “Anything warm.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  He nodded and left the bedroom to start breakfast as he buttoned up his long-sleeved flannel shirt. He was digging in the fridge for the bacon when Challa joined him. Compton glanced up as he closed the refrigerator door to see her staring out the window over the kitchen sink. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Challa pointed outside. “Your thermometer nailed to the tree. It says it’s fifty degrees outside.”

  “We must have had a small cold snap come in last night. How about some bacon with your waffles?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “How about some sausage patties? Won’t take but a couple of minutes in the microwave.”

  Challa shook her head. “Nope. I don’t eat meat.”

  Compton paused, holding the package of paper plates. “Oh? You don’t?”

  “I mean I can’t.” She flashed him a warm smile and took the same seat at the table that she’d sat in last night. “I can’t seem to stomach meat of any kind. Bet you think that’s odd, don’t you?”

  Odd wasn’t the word, considering how the memory of her mouth filled with those needle-sharp teeth and her long talons appeared in his mind’s eye. Before he could comment, Challa giggled. “Are you thinking about my Ruinos teeth?”

  “Uhh, yeah. How’d you know?”

  “Lawson thought the same thing.” She threw a lock of hair over her shoulder almost absentmindedly. In the early morning sunlight streaming through the window and spreading across her and the table, she glowed like a lit candle. “Kreesi said our teeth look the way they do because our planet had very tough plants that we ate. Same thing for our talons.” She looked at her human hands.

  “Why do you have the talons?” He set a paper plate of waffles in front of her, along with a cup of coffee.

  “To cut the plants. And to help us climb them.” She reached for the bottle of syrup as the microwave dinged. “That’s why we have wings. I mean, the females have wings. To let us glide from treetop to treetop.”

  Compton took the seat across from her. “Your men don’t have wings?”

  Challa answered with a shake of her head. “They have huge claws instead of talons,” she told him. “They use them to till the ground. Kreesi said our people were farmers.”

  He chuckled. “I knew that bucket of bloody guts in your cage had to be a prop.”

  “Yeah. Lawson thought it would make the people fear me more.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Compton got up to refill their coffee cups, waiting to sit back down before he broached the subject he had been mulling over in his mind ever since last night.

  “Challa, after we get this settled there’s something I’d like for you to do.”

  She glanced at him over her cup. Her eyebrows went up questioningly. “What?”

  He kept his eyes focused on her face, on those incredible blue eyes with amethyst flakes. “Remember what I said earlier? I meant it. I want us to take a walk over to city hall and apply for a marriage license.”

  Her face paled. “I heard you, but…marriage?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Compton took the plunge. “I don’t care that you’re from another world. I want to get to know you better. I want to spend the rest of our lives getting to know everything about you. About your world and your people. Challa, I want to marry you…if you’re willing to have me.”

  He watched as her face went from pale to pink. Those intense eyes widened as they filled with tears. Compton dropped his gaze to stare at his half-eaten breakfast.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. That’s all.” He glanced at his watch to check the time. “If you’re done, we need to head into town.” He got to his feet and drained his cup, dumping his plate in the trash, and taking the empty cup and utensils to the sink without looking back at her. She joined him at the sink with hers. He watched as she reached over and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

  “I cannot promise you anything, Compton,” she whispered so softly he could b
arely hear her. “I learned a long time ago not to make plans. It’s too painful if the future forces you to change them. Let’s…let’s go to the sheriff’s office. Then we’ll go from there, okay?”

  Compton allowed himself to finally look at her. Her face was pleading, but there was no hope, no promise in her eyes.

  Worst of all, there was no happiness.

  Chapter 20

  Statement

  He wanted to marry her. Compton wanted to take her as his life mate, when it was impossible. Worse, she couldn’t tell him that because it would tear him apart emotionally. She could never be so callous as to reveal that fact to him. Challa knew she loved him deeply, and the one thing she would never do would be to hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally.

  The truck slogged through the muddy road leading away from the farmhouse until it reached the slightly better paved one. Challa stared out the passenger side window as they headed down the county road toward town. There was a dull, dark ache in the center of her chest that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes it hurt to the point where she couldn’t breathe. At other times, like now, it was a persistent reminder of how alone she was in the world. She didn’t even know if there were any Ruinos left alive on Earth. If it hadn’t been for Lawson discovering her, and giving her a place to sleep and food to eat in exchange for her acting in the carnival, Challa knew she would probably be dead by now.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. It gave her the opportunity to look at the pale expanse of flesh on her inner arm. The unmarked flesh because there was no blood line there. It wouldn’t be so bad if her body hadn’t orgasmed. But it had, and according to Kreesi and the other females on the ship, that moment was as proof-positive as the blood line.

  She shifted her eyes to glance surreptitiously at Compton, whose focus was on the road ahead. The truck’s cab was filled with the sweet bite of pungent, ripe oranges. A quick drop to his lap didn’t show any rising, but in her mind’s eye she could still envision every scar and blood vessel defining his manpipe. If she was to take Kreesi’s rules and apply them to Compton, he would fit all but the one. The one crucial in proving to other Ruinos that they were true blood mates.