Caveman Alien's Secret: A SciFi Alien Fated Mates Romance (Caveman Aliens Book 6)

by Calista Skye

  They look at each other. “We would have to ask the chief.”

  “I have the freedom of the village.”

  “She does,” one of them says. “Given by Chief Brax’tan.”

  “Very well,” the leader states. “Then you may come and go as you please. But it is inadvisable without a weapon. Will you accept an escort?”

  It’s a good point. “I will.”

  I walk out of the village with one of the sentries in tow. So now I know I’m not a prisoner, which I was a little worried about. And I can see if one of my ideas is viable.

  “Warrior, will you please take me to the old rubble heaps with the rocks that were dug out of the white cliff?”

  “Yes, Chief Delyah.”

  It’s not far, and there’s a lot more rubble than I thought there would be. You’d need twenty full-size trucks to cart this away. The rocks are a grayish white, and I collect as many as I can carry and go back into the village.

  “Thank you for your protection,” I say as the warrior stays with the other sentries. He gives me a boyish smile. Yep, I’m totally safe in this village.

  I find an unoccupied spot close to the camouflaged fence and dump all the rocks there. If I remember correctly, this could be a pretty fast process. Now I need some harder rocks to use to smash these into smaller ones.

  “Up already.” Brax’tan comes walking, looking sleepy. “I wondered where you were.”

  “I went out of the village to get these.” I indicate the rocks.

  He frowns. “Without a weapon? That’s dangerous.”

  “Your sentries gave me a warrior for protection.”

  He relaxes. “Ah. Very good. I’m afraid I often sleep past sunrise when in the village.”

  “Yeah, it’s safer here than in the jungle,” I say absentmindedly. I would need to build a kiln of some kind. Like a pottery kiln. I need water, too. “Do you have a source of clay?”

  “Of clay? You want to make pots?”

  “No, I want to build something from it.”

  He scratches his chin. “We have clay. Where do you want it?”

  I point to the ground. “Right here, please. Lots of it.”

  “You will have it. Now, would you like some breakfast?”

  I reach my arms up to embrace his neck and pull him down so I can kiss him. “I would.”

  Several of the tribesmen are sitting at the tables close to the totem pole, but not nearly as many as last night. The food is moderately varied and pretty heavy, with fried meats and a hot stew, so I mostly eat fruits and drink cool water.

  “Strange noises were heard last night,” Shaman Jur’nex says. “Coming from your cave.”

  Brax’tan gives me a wry little smile. “Really?”

  “Really,” the shaman persists. “Were you Mating with this alien woman?”

  “I was.”

  “She was seen leaving the village.”

  “She has the freedom to leave as she wants. She came back.”

  The shaman is tense with barely hidden anger. “What are your intentions? You have brought an alien into the tribe. An alien who, by her own admission, is not The Woman. There is no prophecy about this. The tribe must take care of itself. It must not be put in danger! And yet you have given this outsider the freedom of the village. Yes, I’m sure Mating with her is pleasant. Certainly, the noises last night were scandalous enough to erase all doubts about that. Will you make her our chief, perhaps?”

  “I am the chief of the Verensi tribe,” Brax’tan says calmly. “And I will remain the chief for many years yet. When I decide to step down, another tribesman will take over. I have not yet decided what to do about these things. About Delyah and Bune. Many things have changed these past few days. But it seems to me that being friendly with the chief of a tribe of women might be a good thing.”

  “Indeed,” Sas'tar says. “Jur’nex is sometimes too concerned with keeping things the way they are. Some changes can be for the good, Jur’nex.”

  “I am the shaman of the tribe,” Jur’nex mutters. “When strange things happen, I must ask questions. Especially things that concern Bune and the Ancestors.”

  “You are a good shaman,” Brax’tan says calmly. “The best we’ve had. Ask any question you want, Jur’nex. I can answer them.”

  “Do you have a shaman in your tribe, Chief Delyah?” Sas'tar asks.

  “Not like yours,” I reply carefully. “I mean, we don’t have Ancestors and prophecies. One of the girls can conduct weddings, but that’s about it.”

  “Weddings?” Sas'tar says. “That’s a word from the old myths. Right, Jur’nex? When we had women, it was common for men and women to get married? To live together for the rest of their lives. It always seemed to me such a ludicrous dream. And here is one who has seen it happen.”

  “It was common,” Jur’nex agrees. “And now it isn’t. Where is this going? If The Woman were to come now, and she sees an alien woman here, what might she do? We may never get our own women back.”

  Sas'tar gives me a little smile. “With the revelation that Bune is an alien machine, with an evil spirit in the center, I wonder how much of the old Prophecies can be true.”

  “I’m sure it will become clear in time,” Brax’tan says. “Meanwhile, Delyah has requested clay for a secret project. Can you give it to her, Sas'tar? Over there, by the fence.”

  “How much?”

  “Enough to make a pottery kiln,” I say. “I would like some firewood, too. And sand and water. But that’s for tomorrow.”

  “You shall have it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Jur’nex,” Brax’tan says, “I agree that these are momentous events. You’re right to be cautious. Will you meditate on these things and help us reach some clarity?”

  “Of course,” the shaman says, marginally appeased. “But I don’t think any of this is good.”

  Brax’tan drains his mug and stands up. “It is difficult for me to think that anything concerning Delyah could be less than perfect. But you are the shaman, of course.”

  23

  - Delyah -

  Tribesmen deliver the clay, probably twice as much as I need, as well as a large heap of sand. It makes me a little anxious. If this doesn’t work, I don’t think it’ll be good for my image in this village.

  I build a large kiln like the girls and I have done before back at the cave, and it takes me most of the day. Brax’tan occasionally comes over to keep me company, and in the afternoon Trui’rex sits down beside me.

  “You are aware, of course, that we already have kilns for making pots?”

  “Of course. This is not for pots.”

  “What is it for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He picks a straw and chews on it. “Ah. Mysterious alien projects. I approve. Are you really not The Woman?”

  “I’m really not.”

  “It’s just, you seem both so very alien and so very familiar. Yes, The Woman would be more majestic, perhaps. More distant and less… human. And still, some of the men whisper that perhaps the Prophecy isn’t meant to be taken literally.”

  I pour water on the outside of the kiln, smoothing it down. It can’t get too wet, or it’ll crack during firing. “Nothing the Prophecy says is true.”

  The old man frowns. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing. The women weren’t taken. It is the men who were taken and placed here on Xren. At most a hundred years ago. They were taken to Xren inside the spaceship Bune and set loose on the planet. They were given these ridiculous prophecies and beliefs so that they wouldn’t become demoralized. So that they wouldn’t lose hope. There is no such things as Ancestors. There is no such thing as The Woman. It’s all nonsense made up by the evil spirit in Bune.” I dip my hands into a bucket of water to dissolve the clay.

  Trui’rex is clearly stunned, and I let him ponder while I get busy making a grate that will go inside the kiln, between the air hole at the bottom and the firewood on top. The kiln is tall, so there should be
a quite considerable updraft inside and it should burn very hot.

  “In truth,” Trui’rex finally says, “we older tribesmen sometimes say similar things. The village is old, certainly. But many generations old? It’s hard to believe. Now that Bune has been shown to not be the house of the Ancestors, it feels like nothing we believed is true at all. How do you know this, Chief Delyah?”

  “Many little things, at first. Like the fact that your tribe speaks the exact same language as every other tribe. With no difference at all. The sensational vocabulary. You have four words that mean ‘ingenious’, for crying out loud. Which tribe would ever need that? Then there’s cave paintings that appeared to make no sense but actually do. The glass cylinders inside Bune, all perfect size for transporting cavemen— I mean, for transporting warriors and tribesmen in some kind of suspended animation. The fact that all the tribes have the same myths and prophecies and taboos. The Lifegivers. Many other things. Many small things that make up one clear picture.”

  “But… why?”

  I give him a little smile. “That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s one of the reasons I want to attack Bune. I want to go in there and ask some questions of that evil spirit.”

  “It is all wrong!” Trui’rex laments. “Everything we believe.”

  I use my fingers to bore holes in the disk of wet clay, all the way through. Then I add a finger to make the hole bigger. “Pretty much. Oh, except the shaman teachings about how to Worship a woman and how to Mate. That stuff is perfect. Don’t ever change it.”

  “Does Brax’tan know all this?”

  “He was inside Bune, too. He saw the same things I saw. But no, I haven’t discussed it with him in detail. I think I’m afraid of how he will react.”

  Trui’rex nods slowly. “He usually takes bad news well.”

  “He does. And I will tell him all of this. At the right time.”

  I carefully place the grate inside the kiln. I don’t really care if it cracks.

  Trui’rex helps me put firewood inside the kiln. Not too much, because I just want to dry it out before it can be fired for real.

  I make fire with fire sticks, drilling one into the other between my palms, and then the wood is burning and I’m done for the day.

  Brax’tan saunters over. “A nice, big kiln. Taller than we usually make them.”

  I take his hand. “The taller it is, the hotter it gets. I think I need it to get pretty hot for what I have in mind.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Very well. Shall we go and eat something?”

  The evening meal is even more impressive this time.

  “Yesterday, we were not prepared for your arrival,” Sas'tar says. “Today we had time to prepare a meal that’s hopefully worthy of a chief who is our honored guest.”

  “Thank you,” I say with my mouth full of tender, perfectly grilled meat from the bison-like huto that Brax’tan hunted. It tastes like the most perfect steak ever. “It’s all really good. Superb.”

  Jur’nex picks at his food and doesn’t say anything, which worries me a little. If there’s any threat in this tribe, it’s him. He plainly doesn’t like me or the news about Bune. Which is understandable, I guess. With all the prophecies being bullshit, the shaman has lost his entire power base.

  But I’m not going to rub his nose in it. If he ignores me, I’ll ignore him.

  We sit at the table for hours, and today more of the tribesmen mobilize enough courage to come and introduce themselves. They all are very friendly and even shy, which I find adorable. Heck, they’re all seven feet tall and built like Mister Universe, except with more muscle. And saying hello to weird little Delyah makes them blush. Yeah, I’m really liking this tribe.

  As the sun sets, Brax’tan and I take a leisurely walk around the village. There’s a slight breeze blowing, cooling me down after a little too much of the ubru booze.

  We chat about this and that, while I carefully avoid the topic of Bune. At some point, I have to convince him to help me and the girls attack it. It would improve our chances of success so much that victory would be all but assured. I have to get it right.

  “One of the Lifegivers will soon open,” Brax’tan says. “It’s showing all the signs. Just a few days from now.”

  “I’d love to see that. Who is the father?”

  “Warrior Beri’tex, our best bladesmith. His swords are strong and flexible. He’s more than worthy of having a son.”

  We come up to the Lifegiver enclosure and look over the fence.

  “A tribesman can only have one son, right?”

  “There aren’t enough Lifegivers. Most tribesmen never have a son. Only the very best and strongest. Mostly the best hunters.”

  “Those who provide meat for the tribe?”

  Brax’tan nods to the enclosure guard. “Those who show that they are good hunters, especially with killing Bigs. We realize that the tribe needs that in the time ahead as well. If one man is skilled at taking down rekh, then his son will probably be, too.”

  “And irox?”

  “Irox killers are especially revered. It’s one reason I am sure that I will soon be allowed to give into a Lifegiver and have a son of my own.”

  “Have you killed many irox?” I picture the huge dactyl skull in his cave.

  “Many. At first it was necessary. The tribe was terrorized by them. I was determined to help, to kill irox with my sword. I tried many times and came close to death on several occasions before I finally succeeded. After that, it became less difficult. But still dangerous.”

  “When we first met. On Bune. You were running from the irox. Preparing to kill them?”

  He laughs. “No, no. They surprised me. I had no time to prepare. I was just running wildly with no plan. Until you saved me.”

  “I’m glad I did. Because then you saved me right after, picking those thorns out of my… rear.”

  He casually puts his hand on my butt and squeezes, making me squeal. “A most pleasant task. But important to do.”

  I squeeze his butt in retaliation, hard, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. “So, only the best tribesmen are allowed to become fathers. The hunters especially. How about warriors?”

  “We’re all warriors.”

  “But actual war between the tribes is rare, right? You’ve never actually seen one.”

  “That’s true. Well, we sometimes have to fight off roaming gangs.”

  “The ones with yellow stripes.”

  “You know about them?”

  “Yes.” More things are falling into place about this whole planet. Small things, slowly filling out the jigsaw puzzle.

  I casually put my hand up under Brax’tan’s kilt and grab his cock, feeling it immediately respond and stiffen. “Let’s go back to your cave.”

  His golden eyes shimmer in the darkness. “Yes, let’s.”

  This time I blow him first, taking him to the brink a couple of times in playful retaliation for the way he always teases me. And then he fucks me like he has all the time in the world, covering me with his whole body, taking me slowly and relentlessly until I lose control and just whimper and squeal as the climax rolls through me.

  “I could get so fucking used to this,” I groan when only the soft aftershocks remain. “In fact, I could get addicted to it.”

  “So pleasant to hear alien words in Delyah’s voice,” Brax’tan says into my ear. “It sounds like a mewling grat cub.”

  “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t know which language I speak. You confuse my mind with your cock.”

  Again I curl up beside him with my head on his chest. I don’t want to think about serious and important things. This is a vacation from my responsibilities, and I’ll make the most of it. I have a feeling it won’t last that long anyway.

  24

  - Brax’tan -

  Her breathing goes deep and regular, and I gently place an arm around her tiny shoulders. It’s remarkable how strong such a small person can be.

  My mind is still spinning every t
ime I look at her. A woman. Here. With me. Mating with me! It has to be a dream. I have to be dead, and this is some kind of wonderful afterlife. The tribe is doing well, we have caves and tunnels for everyone, and I have Delyah’s heavy head on my chest and her sweet scent in my nose.

  But right now, I don’t care what this is. If I’m dead, then that’s fine. We all die. I hope my death was honorable. If I’m still alive, well… then I’ve reached a level of bliss I never knew existed. All I can wish for is that this will last forever. Delyah and the tribe, just like this.

  Of course, she has her own tribe. At some point she will want to go back to it, like any chief would. Perhaps she will let me accompany her. I will enjoy seeing her tribe. I will enjoy doing anything as long as it is with her.

  When I think of her, my heart swells and I feel myself smiling sheepishly. When I smell her, I want to protect her against all the dangers of this planet. When I see the quizzical look on her face, I want to give her the answers she seeks. I want to be with her forever. To know her depths, in every sense. To protect her and hear her laugh.

  I love her like I’ve never loved anyone.

  But of course, I have a more important purpose. Before then. Something that concerns her tribe and Bune… what was it again?

  I close my eyes and think hard. The Victory, the thing that’s more important than anything else… no, it won’t come to me. That’s no problem. I will remember it when the time comes.

  For now, I will enjoy this as much as I can. While also preparing for the Victory. Which I now remember perfectly.

  I listen to Delyah sleep for an hour or two, then carefully place a fur over her and make my way down the ladder. In one of the lower caves, two men are waiting for me. One is from my own tribe, and the other is an outtriber.

  “Hail, Chief Brax’tan,” the outtriber says, and in the light from the torches I can see that his stripes are purple.

  “Greetings, Chief Hori’tex. I’m honored that you have come.” He’s cautious, as he should be.

  “As am I to be called to you. You have never asked for my presence before.”

  “Or that of any other chief,” I agree. “And yet, I will be meeting many honored chiefs in the days to come. I will get straight to the point, Hori’tex. We’re preparing for an attack. One that will lead to certain Victory…”