by Ruby Dixon
We make a good team, if a quiet one. I do not even mind the quiet, either. The excited flush in her cheeks and her bright eyes when we take down a kill? That tells me everything.
Resonance is…difficult, however. With every day that passes, the urge to mate grows stronger and my lovely, delicate mate more difficult to resist. I still have not touched Ell-ee as I would like. Sometimes when she is having a bad dream, I will slip my hand into hers and she will cling to it until she falls back asleep. Other than the occasional brush of fingers, I have not touched her more.
I have not touched myself, either, and that is proving even more difficult.
As a hunter with no mate, I am used to taking myself in hand and giving my cock a quick tug until the worst of the tension is gone. But the cave we share is small, and Ell-ee skittish as a dvisti kit. I cannot imagine her expression if she were to wake up to find me with my hands shoved into my loincloth. Would she be aroused? Scared? I do not know, and I will not leave her side for longer than a moment, so I endure my cock’s endless ache and tell myself that this is what I have dreamed of for so long. I have waited season upon season for a mate. Now that she is here, I can surely wait a few days longer.
My mind is willing, but my cock aches at the thought.
I watch Ell-ee to see if she feels the same gnawing ache that I do, but if she does, she makes no sign of it. Her hands never stray to her cunt or her teats, she does not watch me with hot eyes, and her sleep is regular when it is not interrupted by nightmares.
Patience, I remind myself. It has only been days.
But they are both the longest and shortest days I have ever endured, the most difficult and the most rewarding.
On this particular day, the weather is fine and so we are going hunting once more. The cache closest to the cave is full, but I have nothing else to do with my time save feed my mate and my tribe, so I am working on filling another cache. With everything we do, I explain it to my silent mate: why we freeze more kills than we bring home, why we scrape the hides, why we collect dvisti dung chips for fuel. She absorbs all of this information with a blink of her big eyes and a small nod to tell me she understands. And she picks up on things readily.
My Ell-ee is clever.
Because the cache is full, we have set our traps farther out from the valley itself, over the next rise. It means a long walk both coming and going, but I think Ell-ee enjoys it. She closes her eyes and turns her face up to the sunlight every chance she gets, and the beauty of her makes my cock surge.
It makes walking…difficult.
If Ell-ee notices my arousal, though, she says nothing. Her attention is completely focused on the world around us rather than me, and I am envious of the attention she gives a herd of dvisti in the distance, or the tracks of a quill-beast left in the snow. She enjoys everything, even the most menial of tasks. Hunting can be exciting, but much of the time it is walking familiar trails and checking traps. Often they are empty and must be set again, but Ell-ee enjoys this, too. She moves forward to each trap and resets them carefully and skillfully, glancing up at me for approval.
My mate learns fast. I nod approval, proud of her. She could do this by herself, I think, given a bit more time and confidence. But I would rather us do it together. She keeps me company, and I protect her. It works well.
Most of the traps we have set for this day are intended to catch hoppers. There is not much meat to each of the spindly-legged creatures, but my mate enjoys their taste, and so I will catch them for her. Hoppers
One trap in particular is set near one of the hot streams that crisscross the snowy landscape like veins. Many of the animals we catch for food come near the waters to drink, and so it is a logical place for traps. However, it is clear that when we approach this one, our prey has gotten away. The snare itself—made of braided cord—has been dragged away to the water’s edge, mud smeared all over the snow from the creature’s fight with the trap’s tight noose. Tracks are scattered everywhere, and there seems to be hot, thick mud on everything.
I grab one end of the cord and pull it free from the sludge, making a sound of disgust. I throw it back down again and wipe my hands. Not only is it covered in mud, but I am certain there is fresh dung in there as well. “Cleaning cord is not how I wanted to spend the rest of my day.”
Ell-ee makes a small noise of acknowledgment and picks up the end of the cord, looping it around her arm, ignoring the mud that spreads up her leathers.
“Leave it,” I tell her.
She ignores me, continuing to pick up the cord. “Just dirt,” she tells me.
I want to tell her that the filth has ruined it, but I also do not wish to hurt her feelings in case she thinks it is a comment aimed at her. So I say nothing, watching as she steps into the mud to gather more cord. Her boots make a squishing noise on the banks, and she lifts the cord again, frowning as she realizes it is stuck on a bit of rock near the river bank. She knows not to go near the water because of the dangerous face-eaters, and I watch her give the cord a hard shake, and then a tug.
“Let me do it,” I tell her, moving forward.
Ell-ee gives it another fierce tug. Before I can make it to her side, she loses her footing and falls on her back with a loud SPLAT.
“Ell-ee!” I shout, rushing to her side. I skid in the mud myself and flop onto the ground next to her in a mess of limbs. “Ugh.” I lift my tail from the mire and let it flick back to the ground, beyond irritated.
My tail slaps at the mud and more dirt flicks onto my face.
Ell-ee raises up on her elbows, eyes wide. She looks at me. Blinks.
And laughs.
The sound is small and shy, as if she is reluctant to make such a noise out loud but cannot help herself.
It is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. I stare at my Ell-ee in wonder. She giggles again and then flops back down into the mud, laughing. This is the first time I have seen her laugh, or smile, and I am entranced. A small chuckle escapes me. Her sheer joy is infectious. “You should have let me get the cord,” I tell her.
Ell-ee gives another snorting little laugh and grabs a handful of mud, and then splats it right onto my nose.
I stare at her, shocked.
She recoils a little, her expression uncertain. As if she’s somehow done something wrong and will be punished. Seeing that fear on her face makes my heart hurt, and I want to make it disappear forever. I lift my tail from the mud again and flick it in her direction. “You think that is funny?” I say, keeping my voice light and teasing.
Her face is covered in spatters a moment later and she gives a delighted little shriek. The tension is gone from her shoulders and she’s laughing as she grabs another handful of mud and smashes it into my mane. I mock-growl and flick her again, then grab a handful of mud myself. I will never toss it on her, but I will play this game. I will just let her win.
The mud fight goes on for a few more handfuls, and then Ell-ee flops back down into the mud again, breathless. Her teeth are bright white on her muddy face and her mane is nothing but stringy filth plastered to her head. I love the sight of it. I do not care that she is covered in mud—and possibly dung—and layers of dirt from her past. If she let me, I would kiss her all over in this moment. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I tell her, unable to resist smiling myself.
Ell-ee’s laughter fades slowly, but her smile remains. “Too much dirt,” she admits shyly after a moment, sitting up and wiping at her leather-covered arms. Her clothes are soaked with muck and sticking to her. She glances at the nearby stream and shudders at the sight of all of the thin, long tubes lining the shore. She knows as well as I do that a face-eater is on the end of each one.
“I have no soap-berries with me,” I tell her. “We can melt snow and wash back at the cave.” My mind fills with images of helping her bathe, running my wet hands along her soft skin and touching her all over. I have to bite back my groan of need, my khui singing an urgent song.
She bites he
r lip, considering. Her hands scrape along her muddy sleeves again.
“Are you afraid?” I ask, getting to my feet. I slip a little, my boots unable to find traction in the mud, but I manage to right myself and then offer her a hand up.
Ell-ee considers my hand. “Safe?” she asks after a moment.
I sense there is more to that question. Safe to take my hand? Safe to bathe? Is that why she never washes? Because it is safer in her eyes? Is her stink a form of protection? Armor?
My chest hurts at the thought. I nod at her. “Safe.”
No matter how much my khui wants it, I will not touch her. She must want it first.
ELLY
A mud fight.
I’m still smiling over it, even if the clinging, smelly mud makes the walk back to the cave bitterly cold and uncomfortable. The warm mud cools right away, and by the time we make it back into the valley, my clothes are frozen and stiff and walking is difficult. My teeth chatter with cold until Bek suggests he carry me so I can put my hands inside his vest and share his warmth. I practically fling myself into his arms, shoving my hands under his clothing. In the last few days, I’ve gotten over my fear of Bek. He doesn’t grab, or yell, and he’s always very careful with me. I trust him, and I don’t think twice about launching myself against him and letting him carry me.
My hands find his skin, and it’s like I’ve found a personal space heater. God, he is warm. So very, very warm. I moan with relief and clutch at his hard, muscular abdomen, trying to leach his warmth into my own body.
I peek up at his face, and his teeth are gritted, his eyes little more than slits. “Sorry,” I whisper, wondering if he’s mad that I’m making him cold, or at the mud.
His mouth pulls down into a little frown as he glances down at me, and I stiffen. “You have mud on your nose,” is all he says.
I wrinkle my nose, trying to free it without removing my hands from his warm body.
“I think you also have mud in your nose,” he points out.
“Gonna have to stay,” I tell him, and burrow down closer against his warmth, relieved he’s not mad.
Bek chuckles and pulls me a little closer. “It can stay.”
My teeth are chattering hard by the time we get to the cave, but then we’re out of the wind and it’s not so bad. Bek sets me gently on my feet and fixes the screen over the cave entrance, then makes a fire lickety-split. When it’s blazing warmth, I move forward and put my hands out.
“Eh?” he says, sounding disapproving.
I freeze. “What?”
He just shakes his head at me and gets to his feet. He grabs the thickest fur off his sleeping pallet and holds it out to me. “You jump every time I speak. I will not hurt you, Ell-ee. Never.”
I swallow hard and take the fur from him. “Sorry.”
“Quit apologizing.”
“Sorry.”
He gives me an exasperated look. “I almost preferred your silence.”
Is that so? I stick my tongue out at him.
Bek chuckles and points at me. “That is much better.” He turns his back and waves a hand in the air. “Now strip. I will not turn around.”
Strip? Out of my clothes?
“I can hear your teeth chattering still,” Bek says with his back turned to me. “Strip and wrap the blanket around you. You will never get warm otherwise.”
Oh. His words make sense. I drop the fur, tear off my frozen clothing, and then wrap the blanket around me. Immediately, the cave feels warmer, and I settle in near the fire. Long moments pass, and Bek remains standing with his back to me. I wonder what he is waiting for.
“Tell me when I can turn around,” he says after another long silence. “I will not look at you naked, I promise.”
Is that what he is worried about? I want to tell him that he is the only one that has ever bothered to clothe me. “Now.”
He turns slowly and gives me a little nod of approval then moves to the fire. I watch him as he feeds more fuel to it, his big hands graceful and sure. For some reason, I am fascinated by his hands and the way they move. Maybe because they are enormous and strong, but he does not use them against me. At least, I correct myself, not since the sa-kohtsk hunt. Even then, he looked horrified at my bruises. I watch his hands move for a little longer and then tilt my head at him when he pauses, watching me.
“I liked your smile today,” he tells me. “And your laugh. It was beautiful.”
I say nothing, though I feel my face flushing with uncomfortable heat. They are words I like hearing, but I don’t know what to say back to him. That I like his smile? His hands? That I like the way he is warm? They seem like terrible compliments.
Bek lifts his chin and gazes at my head. “Your hair is still mud and ice.”
I touch a hand to it, and it’s a hard, nasty mess. I wrinkle my nose.
“Do you want to wash?” he asks me. “I can get you water. I promise I will not look.”
“Why?” I shrug at him.
“Why? Because…some of the humans do not like it. They are shy.” His eyes narrow. “And you are shy. I thought…”
“Most owners do not give me clothes,” I tell him.
“Owners?” He scowls. “I am not your owner.”
I shrug. “You bought me. Who do I belong to if not you?”
“To yourself.”
I make a little ‘hmph’ noise. It will take a while before I believe that one.
Bek frowns mightily at me then. “I do not understand why you are so focused on belonging to someone.”
Me? Is he serious?
He cannot be serious.
I stare at him. It occurs to me that here, on this sheltered planet where people hand stuff over if you need it, that they have no concept of money. Or slaves, for that matter. Georgie and the others were on their way to be slaves, I’m told, but none of them have had to live as someone’s thing. Someone’s possession. For the first time since getting here, my fear gives way to anger.
Real, intense anger.
I pick up my muddy boot and throw it at his head.
He ducks it—as I knew he would—and the look of astonishment he gives me would be comical if I wasn’t so angry. “Ell-ee! What do you do that for?”
“Do you even know what you’ve done?”
Bek looks as surprised at my bellow as I am. “What have I done?”
“You bought slaves! People!”
He squints at me. “I had you brought here.”
“You bought us! There’s a difference!” When it’s clear he’s not getting it, I grit my teeth and try again. “Okay. How do you think I got here, Bek?”
“Cap-tan and Trakan brought you.”
Those must be the other two blue guys. The jerks that had the collar on my neck. “Where do you think they got me?”
His expression grows uneasy. “From…” He pauses, thinking. “Other aliens?”
“And do you think I went with them willingly?” Under the blankets, my fist clenches, in and out, in and out. I can’t believe I’m spitting so many words at him. I can’t believe I’m so mad.
I can’t believe he doesn’t get this.
He hesitates, and I see a flash of understanding on his face. “They stole you,” he says after a moment. “I remember Shorshie saying this.”
“Yes. Stolen. I was stolen when I was twelve. I’ve been a slave ever since.”
He scowls again. “You are not a slave, Ell-ee.”
I gesture at my boot. “Ask my shoe if it wants to be thrown in the fire.”
Bek’s jaw clenches, and he stares at the flames, not answering me.
“Ask it,” I repeat firmly.
“You are not a boot—”
“Just ask it.”
His nostrils flare, and he gives me an angry look and then glances down at my boot again. “It cannot answer, Ell-ee. It is a boot.”
“That’s right. It is a thing. It cannot decide. You own it, and so if you decide you want to take it and toss it into the fire, you can do t
hat and no one will care. It’s a thing.” I gesture at myself. “Now, ask me if I want to be taken from Earth.”
“Ell-ee—”
“Ask me if I want to leave my family and friends behind. Ask me if I want to go live in a cage where someone can feed me bad food or whip me or put a collar on me just because I am a thing. I am a thing that does not matter.” I’m so angry I’m shaking. My entire body is quivering. I need him to understand this. To really, really get this. “Ask me if I wanted to come to this planet.”
He recoils as if struck. His hand goes to his chest, rubbing the hard plate there. His khui is humming—mine is too—but the look on his face is nothing short of anguished. “You would not be here? With me?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Bek. No one did. Not me, not Summer, not Gail, not Kate, not Brooke. None of us. We’re given no choice, because to the people that stole us, we matter as little as that boot.”
Bek stares at the boot in his lap and then back at me. His expression is nothing short of incredulous.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I whisper. “Every day, unsafe. Every day, scared. Every day, no control, nothing. Given from one owner to the next. You don’t know what it is like.” A hot tear slides down my cheek. Crap. I brush it away, because I don’t want to cry. No one makes me cry.
“Then show me,” Bek says quietly. “Show me what it is like.”
11
BEK
Her tears hurt me. Normally it makes me feel frustrated and annoyed to see a female crying.
But my Ell-ee? My strong, brave Ell-ee? This…hurts.
My Ell-ee spits words at me, fast and furious, and it is clear she is angry. More than angry—bitterly upset. She needs me to understand this, and I am trying, but I cannot wrap my thoughts around the fact that a person would be treated so. That her wishes would be ignored. I thought Shorshie and the others…
And then I pause, because I have not given it much thought. They always seemed so happy, and I envied them and their mates. But I remember now, Salukh saying that Tee-fah-ni has bad dreams. And I remember Claire always weeping when the humans first arrived. I was impatient with her then, thinking she was weak.