by Marie Dry
Her body got its signals mixed up again. Instead of freezing, or her skin crawling, she came alive everywhere those warm fingers caressed with slow sensual movements over her lips, and they parted without her permission, pouting slightly to get closer to his fingers.
She looked at his coppery neck with its thick veins, not quite brave enough to stare at his face.
Was his skin also sensitive to touch, like a human's? His leathery fingers were like rough velvet over warm steel. What did her skin feel like to him?
She tensed when he murmured something in his native tongue as his hand moved to the side of her face. He traced her ear with a finger, that small caress more intimate than any touch from her former fiancé.
The thought of Andre shocked her out of the spell he'd woven over her with his warm fingers and she drew back from him, disgusted with her reaction to his touch. "Please stop." The words emerged shakily, with what she wanted to believe was fear, not arousal. What was wrong with her? A few days ago, she'd seen him cut off people's heads with the grace of a dancer. The last thing she should be feeling was aroused.
He grunted at her. Ignoring her plea, his forefinger stroked softly, ever so softly down the side of her face to caress her neck. She quivered so much it was a wonder she didn't fall off the chair. Her breath choppy, she had to concentrate not to squirm in her chair. If only she could understand what he was thinking, but with practically zero facial expressions, it was impossible. Even the way he moved his body was fluid, graceful, and very decisive. Did his grunting mean he approved, or did he always grunt like that when he groped a woman?
A noise behind her had her going rigid and she pulled away from his caressing fingers. He growled at her.
Desperate to divert his attention, she pointed in the direction of the other aliens she still could hear in the cave. "What are they doing?"
The distraction worked. With him no longer touching her, she could focus on what the other aliens were doing. When she turned her head to glance behind her, they were busy setting up camp--in her cave. She wanted to protest but didn't dare.
When they left the cave again, she glared at their backs. They were probably going to get more stuff to clutter up her cave. Just how long did they plan on staying? It wasn't like they needed shelter from the snow outside. Zacar had already proved them impervious to the cold.
Zacar gave a roar. Startled, she jerked her gaze back to him. He glared at her, his posture threatening, and she winced.
"My woman not look at other warriors." He'd gone back to caveman speak.
She clutched her heart. "You scared ten years off my life." She was tired of cowering. The emotional upheaval, together with the cold weather, wasn't doing her asthma any good either. She could already feel her chest tightening.
Zacar growled as two warriors returned, stacking more crates, then he stormed out of the cave. The two warriors stopped and stared at her, unblinking, not moving a single muscle.
Trembling, she brought her hands up to her face, hiding it as she fought the threatening tears. What had she gotten herself into? And why had she sat quietly, like some ninny, instead of fighting him?
She glanced around. If only those two weren't watching her so closely. If she was going to do something stupid, like walk over a mountain, knee deep in snow unprepared, now was the moment.
Rising on shaky legs, she edged closer to the hidden entrance at the back of the cave, willing to take her chances with the snow and start running. Although they continued to watch her, neither of the aliens tried to stop her. Trying to look casual, she walked toward the back cave.
She had almost made it to the entrance when Zacar rushed back with amazing speed, one of the aliens right behind him. She froze.
"Zzziggllr." Zacar pointed to the alien.
Why was he introducing the other alien again?
Then a ghastly thought occurred to her. Did the other alien want to feed her and feel her up, too?
She took a step backward. No way could she eat any more. And if he touched her, she'd scream the cave roof down and bite off anything that came near her mouth.
Why was she so repulsed by the thought of another alien touching her but not with Zacar?
"Viglar," Zacar said, giving the alien's name a more understandable pronunciation. He seemed to search for the right word before he continued, "He is what you name a doctor."
Natalie frowned at him and glanced at the other alien. "Okay." It was hard not to fidget under those unblinking stares. "Uh, why are you telling me this?" Did he realize she had asthma?
Without answering her, he grated something at the other alien. Natalie nearly jumped out of her skin when the doctor alien took a device from his pants pocket and pointed it at her. The object appeared small and fragile in his big hands. No lights or sound indicated the gadget was working but still, he stared at it and grunted, while Zacar made threatening noises at her.
"Why are you threatening me? What'd I do?" She hated the whiny tone of her voice, but she challenged anyone to go through what she'd gone through the last five days without whining. She stiffened. Would the doctor learn about her asthma from his scanner thingy, if he didn't know about it already? But more importantly, would they consider asthma a weakness they'd kill her for? Could his scanner tell him asthma was hereditary in her family.
"Not ten years lost," Zacar insisted, and she nodded lamely.
She had no idea what he was talking about and, with both of them looming over her, it seemed safer to agree with whatever he said.
She hoped whatever the scanner told him would satisfy him, but he growled something and the two aliens stopped stacking crates and walked outside.
Then Zacar had her coat off, her sweater and shirt pushed up before she could move. He growled, his eyes flashing red lightning at the purple and yellow bruises and bite marks the raiders had left on her body, a slowly fading reminder of the horrible attack the day the raiders had caught her.
Her face flaming, she tried to pull down her shirt and sweater.
The doctor growled as well. Plucking a small metal tube from his pocket, he rubbed something on the biggest bruise, located on the tender skin between her neck and shoulder, and she flinched. Zacar turned on him with a savage movement and the doctor quickly offered the tube to Zacar before moving away.
Zacar picked her up and walked to her tent where he laid her down on the bed. He had her sweater, shirt, and pants off her before she could even think to protest. Kneeling before her, he gently rubbed the horrific smelling, slimy green paste onto her bruises.
Trying to conceal the cups of her bra with her hands, Natalie cringed away from the smell.
"Still," he growled without looking up from his task.
If only she was brave enough to tell him she wasn't his dog.
His fingers lingered uncomfortably long as they smeared the disgusting stuff on each and every bruise, bite, and scrape. One by one, he found them all.
"You are safe. Woumbers never do this again." He smoothed salve over a particularly nasty bite mark on her breast. When her nipples drew painfully tight, she expected him to linger there. But he merely moved on to the next bruise. She blew out the breath that had gotten trapped in her lungs.
She didn't know what to make of him. He professed to kill babies, but then he cared for her like this?
At last, apparently satisfied, he grunted and the doctor came into the tent and scanned her again, not looking up from the instrument the entire time. The gadget beeped then he hurried away.
Still hunched before her, Zacar put his hands on her hips. His thumbs met over her stomach, and she swallowed. Her survival tent, advertised as suitable for a family, now shrank, Zacar's presence making it too small for even the two of them. His rough fingers traced her hipbones, and he looked up, spearing her with volcanic heat. Her body, not under her control anymore, throbbed and ached for more of Zacar's touch.
"You will be my breeder," he growled in that way of his that forced involuntary, deliciou
s shivers down her spine.
It took a moment for the shivers to subside and his meaning to sink in. "What?" She shrank back from him, grabbing the quilt from under her and clutching it to her chest until her fingers ached. Repulsed horror replaced the throb and ache in her body. No way could he be suggesting what she thought. Images of being kept in a cage and bred like a dog flashed in her mind. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed audible dry gulps. "What do you mean?"
Cultural differences. Please let this only be a misunderstanding of cultural differences. Something she and Julia would laugh about in a few years.
The tightening in her chest reminded her she wouldn't make a good breeder for a race that killed weak babies. Assuming his meaning was what she thought it was.
"My breeder," he insisted.
"Listen, you perverted red-eyed freak." His chest rumbled again and he leaned into her. She cringed back, but couldn't keep quiet. Not about something like this. Not after the week she'd had. "I'm not some animal you can breed."
"My breeder," he repeated.
"If you call me that one more time, I will kick you in the nuts." Even if his nuts were as tough as his skin, she bet if she kicked hard enough, it would still hurt. Though it would probably be the last thing she did, before he killed her.
His hands spanned her waist and gripped briefly before moving down to gently trace her hipbones.
Dread slithered down her spine. "I--what're you doing?" she squeaked. What was it with him and his fascination with her hipbones?
Her body went into sensual orbit. On top of being called a breeder, it almost brought her to tears. Why did her stupid body react to him like this?
"You little warrior."
Natalie blinked. What did he mean by that? "You think I'm brave?" she asked, her voice sounding teary and pathetic, not at all like a warrior's.
"Very brave. Hit me with twig," he said, his voice so low and gravelly she could barely make out the words.
"It was a club--" She stopped herself. What was the point in arguing? She had to get him out of her tent and out of the cave long enough that she could make it to the hidden entrance. Because snow or no snow, she wasn't waiting around to be turned into some kind of breeding machine for these aliens.
"Twig," he said.
For a moment, she didn't understand what he meant. Then she realized he was still obsessed on her clobbering him.
"Well, that twig took you down," she said with smug satisfaction.
"Not," he insisted.
"But you were unconscious for hours." Her muscles contracted in memory of moving his heavy body around.
"Was not."
"What do you mean? You weren't unconscious?" Macho alien. Did warriors not admit to being unconscious, like they didn't admit to being cold? Or had he played her for a fool longer than she'd first realized?
"I was never unconscious." The puzzled way he said that really made her wish she dared hit him again.
"And you let me struggle with your body, trying to get you on the transport and tied up against the wall." Indignant, she tried to shove his hands away from her. It was like trying to move a rock.
"Moved to help you."
He said it in such a reasonable tone of voice, for him, that she lifted her hand to hit his shoulder before she thought better of it and clenched her fist on her thigh instead. "Oooh, I can clobber you again."
"Rather fuck."
She drew back at his crude words and pressed her hand over her hammering heart. Gently, he took her fist in his hand and opened her fingers one by one. His rough copper toned hands made hers appear very pale and extremely fragile. Even kneeling in front of her, he dwarfed her.
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Fuck Natlia," he repeated.
Natalie gasped, her hammering heart jumping up to double speed. Her chest that'd been steadily constricting, clamped down on her lungs. "No." She pushed his shoulders back but couldn't budge him.
"Yes. Breed strong warriors," he grunted in that harsh way of his.
It took a moment before his meaning penetrated. "Never." If she couldn't even push him away from her, how on earth was she going to stop him from forcing her to breed strong warriors?
"Mine," he growled at her.
"You c--can't just d--decide that." Somehow she had to distract him. Her mind stumbled, desperately searching for inspiration. "On Earth, we do things differently."
Her chest constricted further. She needed to use her inhaler, quickly, before she had a full blown asthma attack.
"I protect you. We breed strong sons."
While right now he thought she would make a good breeder, what would he do if he suspected she would breed weak babies because of her asthma? Still, having him dispatch her for being weak was probably better than being used as a breeder by four aliens, possibly more.
"I will not be some breeder for a bunch of aliens."
The fact that her potential as a breeder was all he thought of her hurt her deep inside. And she'd thought of him as her savior. From the moment their eyes met in the raider camp, there had been a strange bond between them. Yet when he looked at her, all he saw was an animal, a breeder.
This time his roar was deafening. She cringed away from him, pressing her hands over her ears. When at last he calmed down, he looked at her with his usual expressionless face.
"My breeder. Never share." His speech had deteriorated again, becoming even more guttural and she could barely understand him.
So only he's going to use me as a breeder?
That would've been the best news Natalie had heard since the moment she realized she had an alien walking on her mountain, if she planned to stick around. But she would get to town, or die a very cold death trying.
"So you'll protect me. From the others? From raiders?" Keeping her breathing normal became more and more difficult. It was a miracle the doctor had missed her asthma with his little gadget.
"Protect Natlia." The atmosphere around his body changed, simmered with sudden heat. "Fuck Natlia," he said again.
Not if I can help it.
"Let's discuss that later," she muttered. Wildly, she searched for something to say to change the subject. Anything to distract him away from that line of thought. "How many of you came to Earth?" Please let it be a small number. She didn't even know what to do with four aliens, let alone ten or one hundred.
He kept his gaze on hers, never blinking, as he said, "Four."
Four? Yeah, right. Like I'm going to believe that. No way would he travel across galaxies with only three others.
But right now, she was more concerned about finding a way to get away from him. With every moment that passed, more snow fell, isolating them even more in the cave. The snow might already be too deep. She shivered and pulled the blanket closer around her.
"What do you plan to do here? I'd heard your ship crashed. Does that mean you weren't planning to come here to begin with and are only here by mistake?"
He hesitated and her heart sank.
I knew it. World domination. And I'm the only one aware of it.
She gripped her hair and pulled. She wasn't the type of woman who could take on four scary aliens and save the world. A Ms. Space Ranger she wasn't.
"Find women, live in cave."
Why did his sentence structure suspiciously deteriorate every time she asked him a pointed question?
"Your English seem to be improving and then worsening," she said, not bothering to keep the suspicion from her voice.
"I have chip in brain. Speak good English soon."
A part of her wondered if this wasn't all just another act of his. He probably spoke perfect English and was only acting like he couldn't to take advantage of her.
"So you want to find women? Then what?" Shouldn't they be more worried about finding a way to get back to their own planet?
"Live cave."
"You traveled all this way, just to live in a cave? Don't you want to go home, to your own planet?"
&nb
sp; "No."
"Oh." She hadn't expected such a straightforward answer. Why wouldn't he want to return home? Had he been exiled from his home world or something? "What did you do on your planet?" When he looked at her without answering, she frowned and rephrased her question. "You know, what kind of work did you do? Like for a job?"
"I am warrior and--warrior."
A warrior and what? She'd give up a good portion of her stash of chocolates to know what he'd been about to say. Then again, maybe she didn't want to know. Whatever that and was had to be worse than just having four warrior aliens in her cave.
Something else occurred to her and she sat up straighter. She tried to ignore the slide of his hands over her as they settled on her middle again, spanning her waist under the blanket. His thumbs caressed her stomach, his hands so warm she thought he might burn her skin.
"May I see your spaceship?" she asked, trying to keep her excitement contained. If he took her to see his ship, it might provide a good opportunity for her to slip away and escape.
For a long time he stared at her, his face still expressionless. The silence drew out so long she had to concentrate not to fidget.
"Crashed," he said at last.
Alien stoicism or not, she knew when someone was stonewalling her. "I thought I was your woman now." She would chew worms before she would call herself a breeder. "Don't you want me on your spaceship?" Yeah, sure. Like he'd trust you with his spaceship. And while he's at it, he'll hand over the secrets to their technology as well. Get real, Natalie.
"When fixed." His voice had an edge of warning to it and she sat back.
"All right," she said slowly, her eyes sliding away from him. So much for that brilliant idea. The stubborn jerk wasn't going to give her an inch.
Did they really plan to find women and stay in a cave? Somehow she doubted it. Although, with his insistence that she become his breeder, perhaps there was some level of truth there. Had something happened to the women on his planet and they had to search the universe for other women in order to propagate their species?