by Marie Dry
"No teasing, Zacar." Now she sounded like a barbarian. She concentrated on speaking in a full sentence with difficulty. "Your tongue is more dangerous than your sword," she told him on a moan when he swirled his tongue over the crease on the inside of her thigh.
It seemed some analogies were universal. He cocked his head and she felt the heat from her toes spread to her face. "You know what I mean?"
"I will pleasure you with my tongue and my sword until you know that I can satisfy my breeder." Crouched between her thighs he leaned down and licked the inside of her knee, moving slowly much too slowly up her leg.
Would he just tease her while her body ached with need? She'd complain about him calling her breeder later. Right now she had his lips and tongue right where she wanted them.
"I need to touch you, Zacar."
Her hands tingled with the need to touch his beautiful skin, to trace the veins over every inch of his body. She lifted a hand and caressed his shoulder. Then she moved down his neck but couldn't reach more of him.
He looked up at her briefly. Then his mouth was on her and she forgot about touching him, forgot her own name while she twisted and moaned. She opened her eyes to find him braced over her, staring intently down at her. She lowered her eyes to his chest, suddenly shy of him.
"Natlia."
She looked up.
"Look at me, look at me while I breed you."
They stared at each other.
"Right now I don't really care what you call it," she groaned. "Please just be inside me."
He entered her slowly, all the while staring into her eyes. "You please me, Natlia."
He surged home and she sucked in a breath. He set a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly and then surging back hard. She held onto his wide shoulders that were hunched over her, locked her ankles around his waist, and dimly heard someone moan.
"Natlia."
She looked up at him. His eyes captured hers as he drove the pleasure higher with desperate strong plunges into her body. She heard herself scream, couldn't make sense of what she was gasping out against his chest. He became taut and rock hard against her and she heard him roar before she gave herself over to the intense pleasure that was almost pain.
Chapter 12
Lying in his arms afterward, she slowly stroked her hands over his chest, mapping the ridges and hollows she found with her fingertips. She followed the pronounced veins appearing and disappearing on his skin with a curious forefinger. "Who was that man you talked to before Zurian brought Azagor in?"
He glanced down at her and his black eyes grew red tendrils. It was fascinating to see the slow, mercurial change from black to red this close up. The passionate lover of a moment before was gone. In his place was an implacable warrior.
"You did not see another Zyrgin."
"Of course I did."
"No, you saw something similar to your TC," he said, his words clipped with precise emphasis.
Something in his voice, in the way he said it, sent shivers down her spine. He leaned over her, but it was different from before, when he'd leaned over her with passion blazing in his eyes. This time he meant to intimidate her and, to her shame, he succeeded.
"A--all right," she said, not wanting to anger him further.
But she knew what she'd seen, knew he was lying to her again. He'd been talking to the scary alien. But she didn't have the courage to insist.
He laid her down on the bed, arranging her limbs to his satisfaction. He started with her hair and she moaned in remembered pleasure as he licked the skin at her temples.
"I'll say it again, that tongue of yours is a lethal weapon." She loved the way he touched every inch of her skin with the flicking movements of his tongue. He moved onto her forehead and by the time he reached her toes she was a puddle of pleasure.
***
The next morning when she woke, he was gone as usual. She went through her morning routine with quick efficiency then rushed to where Azagor slept. She faltered to a stop and for a moment, the cave tilted beneath her.
His bed was empty. It couldn't be. Did he die during the night? They had advanced technology. The doctor should've been able to heal him.
The cave, the cold, and everything else disappeared until all she saw were the ghosts of people who'd left her. First, her grandmother had died, her fiancé had walked out soon after, then her parents died close together. And now Azagor was gone before she'd even been given the chance to really know him.
She wanted to throw up. How long before Zacar left, too?
She heard the clang of metal and walked to the cave entrance, her legs feeling as if they'd give way at any moment. Were they busy with preparations for the burial? Zacar must be devastated. He wouldn't show it but she knew he would feel responsible.
Vaguely aware of her surroundings, she pressed her hand against the wall and the door slid open to reveal the area in front of the cave. Only three aliens practiced with their huge gleaming swords, the spot in the formation where Azagor usually practiced glaringly empty.
"How can you just continue with your routine as if nothing happened?" she whispered. Over the clang of the swords, she shouldn't have been heard. But Zacar stepped back with a strangely formal bow then came over to her.
"Where's Azagor?" she asked, hoping he would say the young warrior was all right and out on an errand.
"He was weak from blood loss. I had to kill him," he said with an almost expectant air.
It took a moment for the words to sink in as she tried to figure out his expression. She staggered back. The world was uneven and treacherous beneath her feet. That beautiful young warrior was gone? He'd never again fix her TC or look at her with such adorable fascination?
He was gone because Zacar had killed him. The man she'd made passionate love with only last night--no, the savage alien, incapable of feelings, had killed his own comrade.
Everything disappeared. Sight and hearing were swallowed by darkness so complete, she wasn't even aware of the passage of time.
Zacar threw back his head and laughed, an unearthly loud and ugly victorious sound. He looked down at her with that emotionless face and killer's eyes. "I teased you good?" he said, as if he'd done something really well. As if he expected a medal.
Reality came back to her slowly. Her hands hurt from slapping Zacar's face, her throat raw from screaming at him.
Her breath hitched. Slowly, so slowly, she lowered her hands. "What?"
"I tease you."
"You--you teased me? What does that mean?" Pressure built up in her brain and she knew it would explode out of her skull any moment now.
"I said something that is not true to tease you. Like people who are close do," he said, as if waiting for her to praise his actions.
It took a long, long time for the meaning of the words to register. Surely he couldn't be that cruel and unfeeling. "Azagor is--is alive?"
"Of course. He went to redeem his honor." No hint of laughter was left on his face or in his voice. If she was very lucky, she'd never hear Zacar laugh again.
"And you thought it would be funny to tell me he's dead?"
"It was."
She grabbed her hair and yanked it with a vicious tug. "What's wrong with you?" she yelled. "You don't do that. You never do that." She took a breath, trying to get her thoughts straight. "You never ever joke or tease or laugh about illness or death, or anything like that." She grabbed his shirt and tried to jerk him toward her. He didn't move. Instead, she moved herself closer to him. "Never," she screamed in his face.
"You teased me about that Darth Vader warrior," he said, for all the world as if he was the sane one here.
"What? Are you ten years old now?"
"No, three hundred Earth years," he assured her. Every expressionless inch of his face convinced her he was serious.
She shook her head slowly from side to side and held her hands out in front of her. "No, I don't want to hear this. I simply can't deal with that now. Just promise me, no more teasing.
"
"No. I like this teasing."
"I'm not talking about that anymore." She started to walk away from him.
"Time for breakfast," he said.
She sighed. At least he called it breakfast now, instead of first meal. If only he'd embrace the idea of her feeding herself?
At that moment, Azagor walked in and she would never have guessed he'd been severely wounded the previous day. How was he supposed to redeem his honor? It wouldn't surprise her if he had to kill the raiders who'd wounded him.
"How did he redeem his honor?" she asked Zacar.
"He killed all the woumbers at the pass," Zacar said, all traces of his earlier humor gone.
Natalie had to suppress a hysterical giggle. It was like living in an alternate reality. One where the raiders were free game instead of the biggest menace the country had ever endured.
While he fed her, she watched curiously as Azagor went to the side of the cave, next to the hook, and pointed a silver object at the wall. At first, nothing happened. Then she forgot to chew when a perfect rectangular shadow formed slowly.
Zacar turned her head back toward him with a firm hand on her chin. "Stop watching my warrior."
"I was just wondering what he was doing," she said defensively. "Is it some kind of art?"
"No."
"So what's he doing?"
He hesitated and her shoulders slumped. Like some pampered concubine or favored pet, he carefully fed and groomed her, but kept her in a cage of ignorance.
When he tried to feed her another spoonful of eggs, she shook her head. They had to have a kind of synthesizer stashed somewhere, because he kept producing delicious things for her to eat. Things that had become scarce in town years ago. Since Azagor had started tinkering with her TC, she had an unlimited amount of movies to choose from, some where the characters used synthesizers.
"Fine, don't tell the little woman anything, because heaven knows she'll rush out through the snow and down the mountain to tell everyone," she muttered under her breath. She jumped up and walked toward the tent.
She half expected him to call her back or come up from behind, pick her up, and kiss her senseless. To at least insist on knowing what bothered her. Her shoulders slumped when nothing happened. When would she accept that she wasn't dealing with a human male but an alien warrior whose whole being was focused on war and battle?
She cleaned the tent and rearranged her clothes in the chest before sitting down on the freshly made bed. Maybe she was sulking like a child, but would it have killed him to come after her? To offer to tell her anything she wanted to know? Beg her forgiveness for keeping her in the dark? She couldn't stop a giggle at the thought of Zacar begging.
Deciding she could ignore Zacar just as well from the main cave, she went and sat down in front of the TC. Pretending to watch the cell, she glanced over at Azagor every now and then. Not only was she still curious about what he was doing, she worried he might be overdoing it.
After about an hour, she could see a rectangle recessed into the wall. Not even trying to pretend she was still watching the TC, she sat up straight and stared at Azagor. His actions made sense all of a sudden. He was carving a passage into the wall. But a passage to where? How could such a small silver object disintegrate solid rock? No dust or noise, no flying pieces of rock polluted the air. Only a smooth perfectly rectangular passage was cut into the cave wall. What on earth were they planning to do? Carve her mountain full of tunnels? Tunnels to where?
Zacar came in and walked over to her. Drawing her up, he pressed his forehead against hers. "Stop watching my warrior," he growled.
Not giving her a chance to respond, he seated her again and went over to Azagor. Zurian and Viglar joined them at the beginnings of the tunnel as well. They all growled at each other then suddenly stopped for a second. When they continued, the growling became recognizable words. She stared at the TC, pretending to watch as she listened in on their conversation.
"How many?" Zacar asked.
"Hundreds," Azagor answered, handing something to Zacar.
Hundreds of raiders? Did he mean there were hundreds of raiders at the pass? And what had he handed to Zacar? A report of his activities? Did alien warriors fill out reports?
"Waiting for the snow to melt?" Zacar said.
Azagor nodded and Natalie bit her lip to suppress a smile. They'd picked up nodding from her. No doubt they'd be horrified to realize she found it cute.
"Any witnesses?" Zacar asked Azagor.
Azagor made a strange hissing noise that could only be described as savage. "None left alive. And I used a human form." For the first time, she realized that, while Azagor might be young and slightly smaller than the others, he was pure warrior. He stood with easy confidence and, according to what he told Zacar, he'd killed his share of raiders.
"Probes?" Zacar demanded.
"In place. They won't surprise us," Zurian said.
Zacar nodded and they all went back to what they were doing. Natalie was torn between amusement at that small nod from Zacar and disquiet over the conversation.
Then the import of their words hit her. Yesterday Zacar had told her that Azagor was attacked by the raiders at the pass, but with her worry over Azagor's condition, it didn't really register. Now, her heartbeat sped up and she clutched her middle. Hundreds of raiders were camped at the pass.
She ran to Zacar and grabbed his arm. "Did Azagor kill all the raiders at the pass?" She tugged at his arm and he looked down at her hands, as if trying to figure out what she was trying to do. He took her hands in his.
"He is a Zyrgin warrior." Pure arrogance ran through his statement.
"And that means, of course, he killed them. Don't you realize that Murdoch will send thousands now in retaliation?" Tugging her hands from his, she grabbed her hair and walked away. She stopped and swung around when he spoke.
"We will kill them, too."
"You can't kill every last raider."
He looked at her, simply cocked his head and looked at her.
"What about the town? What if they hurt Julia?" It was easy for him to talk about killing raiders. He didn't have friends that would be endangered by his actions.
Something frightening moved in his eyes. "They will be too busy trying to get away from us to harm your friend."
"That's your solution? Just kill them and the problem will go away?" Fed up with him and his violent stance on everything, she stormed to the entrance of the cave and pressed her palm to the panel in the wall. The door opened and she rushed outside. She walked up to the end of the force field, placed her hand against it and felt slight shocks, almost pleasure shooting through her palms. This was the first time she'd come here since she'd seen Zacar talk to the hologram. She gazed out at the snow-covered landscape to escape the suffocating feeling she got more and more lately. The thought of being trapped in this cave year after year for more than seven months at a time depressed her.
The hair at the nape of her neck lifted. Zacar heated her back as he stood behind her. As if he understood her mood, he didn't speak, just simply stood and looked at the savage landscape in front of them while his body warmed hers.
***
That night while she watched the cell cast, she sat tense, caged between Zacar's legs as usual, waiting for news that the town had been attacked by raiders. Shivers ran down her spine where he absently stroked a long finger up and down. Even though he always kept them retracted in her presence, she always waited for that moment when she'd feel his claws emerge and scrape across her skin.
She'd just started to relax when the chime announcing breaking news rang, jerking her upright again. Natalie pressed her nails into Zacar's thighs and prayed that Julia was spared.
"This just in. Our correspondent in Washington obtained the first picture ever seen of Murdoch, the infamous leader of the raiders."
This was unexpected. Everyone had speculated for years about the identity of the man. He came on the scene about four years ago and rumor h
ad it that he'd killed Karl, the previous leader and founder of the raiders. His likeness flashed in the air and hung there with obscene clarity.
Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "It couldn't be him," she whispered.
"Who?" she heard Zacar ask through the buzzing in her ears.
The face of the man in the hologram was rougher than she remembered, broader, a few scars marring his chin. His once beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot and locked eerily onto hers. His nose was crooked, as though it had been broken and healed without the help of a doctor. But still, she knew it was the man she'd been engaged to six years ago, the man who broke her heart, but at the time he'd called himself Andre Smith.
She drew in a shocked breath. "How is this possible?" she asked, covering her mouth, as though the action would somehow lessen the shock.
"You know him?" Zacar's body vibrated with tension around her.
"I used to date him a very long time ago." She tried very hard to sound casual and uncaring.
"Does that mean fuck?" The finger stroking her back now had a claw for half a second before it retracted.
Natalie dropped her head into her hand and shook it. "Not always," she muttered through her fingers. "Dating means you see a guy exclusively and do things together." No way was she telling him she almost married the man.
"Did you fuck together?" he insisted.
She hesitated. Would admitting that she'd had sex before make her damaged goods in his eyes? "Yes, we did. But it was many years ago, so please stop asking and stop saying that word," Natalie snapped at him. Really? How can he fixate on this one thing? He should be worrying about why Murdoch was looking for her now.
"He took you to his camp?"
"No. I met him through my father. He was the lawyer for the company my father used to work for. But he just packed up and left one day." Right after I had a serious asthma attack.