by Milana Jacks
She reaches the window, taps around, then shouts something and bangs on the glass. Quietly, I approach, and she turns around and plasters her body against the window, tongue and lips moving rapidly. She’s talking a lot, and based on my experience with cornered prey, I’m guessing she’s most likely begging. She freezes as I reach beside her to unlatch the window and open it so she can see there’s no way out of here unless she’s an experienced climber or has wings.
A pleasant scent catches my interest, so I linger, sniffing around her hair before pulling back, but not stepping away from her.
She doesn’t turn to look out the window.
We stand there facing each other while her body trembles.
I take her hand and observe clawless fingers. I lift her upper lip to see blunt teeth. Herbivore.
The wind blows through the window and ruffles her hair. I release it from the band and let it fall down to her shoulders. Since the prey is rather small, I bend to sniff the top of her head. It also smells sweet, but with a different scent than the place between her legs. Interesting. Instead of dry showering like most species who can travel through space, this species uses oils to clean themselves with, like us. I’m not familiar with the particular scent of her hair, but it’s not offensive to my sensitive nose either. In fact, it’s undeniably pleasant.
The female grabs my ax and yanks it out of my belt. I step back, expecting her to swing, but the ax proves too heavy for her and she drops it, cutting the side of her thigh in the process. She yelps and covers her wound. Blood seeps between her fingers and calls to me. I drop to all fours, my hunter at the ready, muscles already relaxing to allow for bones to rearrange. My vision sharpens, and I home in on the red blood.
I lick her fingers, lapping the sweet nectar, then move her hands out of the way so I can taste straight from the source. Her fear overwhelms my senses as I rip the soft blue fabric she’s wearing and lap at the cut, purring as I taste the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted in my life. I imagine what her meat tastes like and nip her wound gently, toying with but not breaking the skin. I lap and lap, and two things happen that have never happened when I’m trying to prime my prey for consumption.
One, I grow hard.
Two, I purr in a way I don’t understand. The tone is wrong. I’m not a happy hunter readying to eat; I’m something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
I stare at the wound. Instead of ripping out her flesh, I healed her cut. It’s completely closed, and I’m a little annoyed that I unconsciously released a wound-sealing saliva. It was an instinctual behavior and one that came from my hunting instincts. Why would I do that?
Standing, I narrow my eyes at the female, who lifts her thigh to examine it. She runs a blunt finger over her cut and looks up, speaking something I can’t understand again. I’m starting to get annoyed that I don’t understand her while she’s pointing at the ax. What was she gonna do with the ax? Cut me or put herself out of her misery?
I already tasted her, and instead of consuming her, I healed her. It could mean only one thing, and I’m reluctant to even hope it is what it could be. Let’s find out what she’d intended to do.
I pick up the ax and put it back into her hand. This time, I hold it with her and firmly direct it to the side of my neck, lifting my chin to expose my throat. Her hand still shakes, the ax proving too heavy once more, so I hold her elbow to help support the weapon.
She’s calculating. I can tell. Her brown eyes dart from my face to my throat, and I can see the moment she decides to move in for the kill.
The female grabs the ax with both hands and cuts.
The scent of my blood bursts into the room, and I purr, strangely aroused by her violence. The Sha might’ve succeeded in his ritual, and Bera might’ve actually given us a female to breed. I tug the ax from her, holster it, and lift her upper lip to take a peek at her teeth again. Definitely an herbivore. A violent herbivore. What in Herea’s name kind of creature is this? Regardless, we can’t breed prey, and we definitely can’t produce young with herbivores, so she’s of no use to me besides food in my belly. And yet, my instincts tell me to keep her around a little longer.
I purse my lips, thinking on what to do, not wanting to make decisions before I’m certain she’s just an herbivore. She could be one of those strange omnivorous creatures who eat both flesh, bone, and herbs, in which case, she might be the female Bera sent us. Only one way to find out. Take the alien hunting.
Chapter Four
Stephanie
The alien male purrs. Trouble is, he purrs the way a giant tiger might purr, not like a domestic cat might if I pet it. I won’t pet him, and the cut on his neck keeps bleeding. He healed me with his tongue, which he can’t do for himself, and I’d rather make friends than enemies, especially since I can’t kill him with his ax. It’s heavy, made for his strength, and I couldn’t even swing it. But that didn’t stop me from cutting him. I have to stand my ground.
His purr intensifies, and he keeps stepping closer, and I can’t back off because the window is open and I’ll fall out if I move. He’s cornering me, I realize. I have no way to escape, and as his body touches mine, I feel his hardness.
Right past him, a large elaborate bed dominates the massive space, surrounded by tiny lights like stars, warm and inviting, twinkling in some places. The space seems private, and I grow more apprehensive of what this kind of place implies. Originally, I thought he would rip my thigh out with his teeth, so the fact he didn’t, both gives me hope and worries me.
As a show of good will, I slip out of my shirt, leaving me in the tank top. I twist the shirt and extend my hands, trying to reach his neck. He’s tall, and I can’t reach the wound even when I rise on my toes. He bends slightly, and I’m happy we’re communicating so easily with no translator. I tie the cloth around his neck to stop the bleeding. “There,” I say. “Can I get back to my pod now?”
He shows me his canines, and I swallow at the sight of a set of teeth made for ripping flesh and crushing bone. But his eyes lift at the corners, so I have a feeling he’s smiling. I smile back, and he bends again to look at my teeth. It’s then that I notice something behind the whiteness of his eyes. Maybe the pupil is behind there and also a colored iris. I can’t tell, but I see it moving. It’s as creepy as the way his body moves under the skin.
Aliens come in all shapes and forms, and while I haven’t seen one like this one, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist. It means I haven’t seen as much of the universe as I’d like.
Space travel doesn’t come cheap, and the only reason I could afford the vacation on Joylius was because the tsunami hit it recently and wiped out all but two resorts. This prompted them to drop prices on space fare and hotels, so it came within my budget.
The male takes my hand into his warm one. He’s hot, actually, his natural temperature much higher than mine. He leads me back to the throne. The disk the throne is on spins once and catapults up, lifting my belly in the process. I hold in the bile this time. I’m not as nauseated as I was after I landed and ran from a herd of males chasing me.
The disk stops in the throne room. Without pausing to adjust to the sudden launch and stop, he leads me forward, and when the doors swing open, I sigh, relieved the bridge is empty.
We walk. Below us, water gushes, hitting the stone structure. On the street, clusters of massive warriors like him chat in their strange language, and above, ships fly to and from the towers. I focus on one tower and see a white dot up there that looks like my pod. I point to it. “That’s the one.”
The alien nods and moves toward the tower, passing all those males that chased me. They get out of his way, but my belly feels queasy at the glances they’re throwing my way and how they’re licking their lips. It makes me uncomfortable, especially as I don’t see any women anywhere. In fact, I don’t see kids either, or animals, or anything besides scarred, muscular males with long beaded braids hanging over their bare chests, white eyes turning my way. They wear what I presume is their
uniform of scuffed leather kilts hung with powerful weapons.
Warrior species tend to be military species, so I’m not surprised they’re carrying many weapons, but still, where are the civilians in this town? Unless, this is some sort of military stronghold I landed in, which would be unfortunate mostly because lots of species designate humans as enemies. We have a terrible habit of capturing and experimenting on aliens before we reach out and make friendly contact.
The excuse is that, prior to letting aliens know about humanity, we have to be sure they’re not predators. Aliens classified as predators are either kept from discovering our species, barred from entering our space, or, if they find out about us and want to approach, we call our allies and kill them off.
A male steps in front of us, and although his gaze is downcast, he speaks loudly and sounds angry. The one with me replies in kind. A snarl rips out of him, and I startle, trying to jerk my hand away. He glares, eyes no longer covered in white. They’re bright orange with vertical slits for pupils. I freeze in place.
My bladder threatens to release both from fear and because I have to go. I press my thighs together, then stare at the ground, mainly because I feel I did something wrong when I tried to pull away. I won’t be doing that anymore. I squeeze his warm hand.
The other male moves out of the way, and we continue walking. Under his breath, the male mumbles, and I bet he’s cursing. Or maybe not. Shit. I know nothing of anything in this place, and that’s reaffirmed when the alien passes the tower I believe we’re gonna enter. I look up at him, ready to open my mouth and seek answers, but there’s no point because he doesn’t understand me. I wish he’d get me a translator.
“I need a translator,” I say.
He gives me a side-eye, and I run two fingers over my throat, then touch my lips. “A translator.” Most species understand this signal. Two fingers on the throat, then lips, and I think he does too, because he nods and picks up the pace.
Next to him, I’m practically running as we weave through the streets at a frantic pace. I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. The farther we get from the place I landed, the more I feel like something terrible happened here and that’s why there aren’t any civilians.
We pass homes with damaged rooftops, broken doors, and smeared paint over the art normally found on most of the walls I’ve seen in this place. Right after seeing a street bustling with warriors and air traffic, the silence here makes me wary. On the ground, right next to a pile of weapons, I spot a massive animal skull with teeth as big as my finger. Then another, covered in mold. A crisp breeze brushes my hair, and I inhale stale air and the stench of standing water. It appears to be an abandoned village, perhaps now a cemetery, as if the ancient Vikings raided the town and nobody repaired it since. I wonder if something similar actually happened here.
The male starts jogging.
Unable to keep up with him, I tug on his hand.
He flings me into the air, and I land on top of some sort of broad-backed creature that’s in the middle of the street. It starts running with me clamping my legs around its flanks. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I hang on tight to whatever I can grab on the creature. My fingers clench around a cloth tied at the creature’s neck. It’s my twisted shirt. Oh my God! This male is a dual-form species, meaning he’s both humanoid and animal, and I better hold on for a ride or die as we gallop at breakneck speed.
He leaps, and I duck my head, shutting my eyes and not wanting to see what he’s leaping over. I’m scared of heights and speeds and, well, many things he’s clearly not afraid of.
Landing roughly, he stops. My cheek bounces off the muscle on his back, and I lose my grip on the cloth, then bounce off him and fall flat on my ass.
Grunting, I move to stand, but think better of it. I stay down because the male chooses to remain in his animal form, and he’s practically pinning me down with his dominant stare. Narrow vertical pupils. Bright orange eyes. He’s the size of a horse, with a massive head and exposed teeth, meaning there’re no lips over the teeth. They’re out here for all to see, each canine the size of my middle finger. He’s black, with short thick hair and large ears that stick out and make him seem even bigger. He’s built strong and agile, with back legs in a folded position sort of like a frog, which explains the massive leap he executed.
Leaning in, he sniffs between my legs again.
“Please stop doing that, because it’s freaking me out. Also, I have to pee.” Standing on shaky legs, I try not to appear afraid. I struggle to calm my racing heart because I know class: Predator scents fear, and they generally wanna devour the ones who fear them. My bladder makes it easy to forget the fear. I gotta go. Luckily, we landed in a forest.
I force my legs to move and walk to the nearest bush in front of a wide tree trunk. The grass that grows around the base of the tree is oval shaped and seems softer than California grass, and the forest smells wonderful from all the different flowers that grow on the trees. Red, yellow, even neon blue. It’s like a magical place, and I’m sad I have to desecrate it with my urine, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
I squat and am going about my business when the alien animal’s head pokes around the bush. Bright orange eyes widen, and his pupils shrink into tiny slits.
“Shoo.” I motion with my hand, but to him, that must have looked like I invited him over, because he circles the bush and stands there, staring at me. I can’t stop what I need to do, so I’m doing it, and I’m mortified when his head lowers, and he watches the flow. Since I haven’t gone in hours, it takes me eighty-four years to finish up. I squeeze every last drop out of me and promptly dress, then step away from the spot.
The second I do, he draws near and sniffs the place. I’m trying to be less human about this and draw out my animal side too, if only to make myself feel better about this turn of events, and not think about how, if I stay here longer than a few hours, I’ll need to be escorted to the bathroom again and go through this embarrassing process, also again.
The male glances at me, then at the pee, lifts a leg, and pisses on the same spot.
He swings his long whiplike tail, wrapping it around my leg like a cat might, and swaggers off, throwing his head back in a way that clearly says follow me.
Grumbling, I follow him through the forest, mainly because I don’t have a choice. As we walk, I try to forget about our private fluid exchange and admire the environment on this planet. There are markings carved into the tree trunks. Not as elaborate or purposeful as the ones I’d seen elsewhere, but natural forms that make them even more beautiful. As we walk, I try to preserve my life by drawing out his humanoid side. You know, the one that talks. I ask him many questions he can’t answer without a translator, or maybe even with it because he remains in this animal form, but either way, he maintains a frightening silence. I wonder if he’s taking me to his lair or a cave, or to a secret spot where he can finish me off.
Chapter Five
Hart
Carnivores hunt. Omnivores eat plants or hunt for prey. This alien marked my territory, which I immediately corrected by pissing over her marking so that we establish order right away and she isn’t confused about who here is predator and who is not.
I still can’t believe she pissed on my territory. If she were anyone from my tribe, I’d have considered it a declaration of dominance and a definite challenge. If she were a Ra, it would have been a declaration of war.
Instead of doing what a normal hungry creature does in a forest rich with plant and animal life, the alien I’d brought here to eat talks and strolls as if we’re walking through town. She must be confused. She’s supposed to seek food, but she keeps touching the trees, picking flowers off them, and talking. Her tongue muscle gets plenty of exercise, and appears more agile than mine.
I stick out my tongue, looking at it hanging over the side of my teeth. It swings as I walk, practically an unused muscle for me. Unlike a few tribes in our land, we bite, crush, and swallow prey. Not much need
for mixing food with the tongue. Her tongue maneuvering makes me think she’s an herbivore more than anything else. The thought of her being an herbivore frustrates me, and I growl.
Night is falling, and since she’s not hunting, and I can’t hunt effectively with her, I better get back into town. The woods aren’t safe in daylight, and at night, they’re deadly. My hunters aren’t the only ones who might wanna eat this alien.
I step in front of her and cut off her path, then swing my tail and hit my back with the tip, telling her to hop on. She stands there, hands full of flowers, and talks at me again. Huffing out a breath, I stroll beside her at her pace. Before taking her hunting, I should’ve gotten a translator. At the time, hunting took priority, because if she’s an herbivore, we’re incompatible, and I have to know what’s what with this female.
We arrive at a portal that leads back into town from this position deeper inside the forest. Around this time, the portal security shift changes, and I nod at the pair of males on duty as we enter the portal. She stops as we hit the street again and talks, loudly now. From their positions around the streets, the males gawk at her. She’s none the wiser. She’s looking around while arranging a bouquet she collected. I snarl, a little annoyed they’re all staring at her.
A group of males heads our way, and none of them even acknowledge me as they pass. A whistle sounds, and I spin, snapping my teeth at them. They scatter like cowards, laughing as they take positions around the towers. Bitchholes. All of them.
I continue walking, feeling the alien staring at my ears.