Alien Bride (Love, Drugs, and Biopunk)

by McGill, Brie

  “Ninkasi, darling!” A man with slicked hair the color of boxed macaroni greeted her with a bouquet of flowers.

  “Oh, Merve.” Her upper lip curled with disgust. “You shouldn’t have.”

  Merve tugged at the lapel of his pinstripe suit jacket. “You mean these?” He thrust the bouquet of flowers toward her, his million-dollar smile the envy of every orthodontics magazine.

  Leaning away, she dismissed the flowers with a wave. “I mean, you really shouldn’t have.” She wrinkled her nose. “My allergies are terrible. I’ve been in bed with a head cold all week.”

  The dog gave his warning growl, a tiny grrrrr like a small motor.

  “Nink, dear, I am so sorry.” Merve lifted a tanning-bed-bronze hand to the side of her face. “I was only thinking of you.”

  She recoiled, clutching the doorknob with a sweaty, iron grip. “Don’t. . . touch.” She whipped her head away, and lowered her voice. “My tinea faciei. It’s horribly contagious.” She nodded, pursing her lips. “I’d hate to spread an itchy, flaky fungus to that movie-star face of yours.”

  “You look stunning today.”

  She felt Merve’s eyes on her body, tightened her shawl, and frowned.

  “Do you mind if I step inside?” Merve squeezed her shoulder in a commanding grip.

  “Yes.” Ninkasi stepped backward and closed the door, peering at him through a tiny crack between the door and the frame. “Merve, I have to go. I was—heading for the toilet—” She secured the chain lock. “I ate some rotten shellfish last night, and it’s making me—”

  “Oh my goodness, is that Merve Sterling?!” The click-clack of Ninkasi’s mother’s heels filled the room. She crashed into Ninkasi, martini slopping on her bejeweled wrists, Ninkasi’s shawl, and the floor. She fumbled with the lock. “Merve, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you!” She patted the berserk Chihuahua on the head. “Don’t mind Wittle Man! Usually, he only barks at visitors if they wear a hat. My Wittle Man! Are you afwaid? Are you afwaid of dis handsome man?!”

  It wasn’t a total lie: Ninkasi really did want to puke.

  “Mrs. Mara!” Merve threw his arms into the air and embraced her in a regal hug.

  "Don't call me that!" Digging her manicured nails into Merve’s arm, she soaked his jacket with martini. “That son of a bitch is gone!” Her balance faltered. “I’m here for my kids!” She wagged a finger in his face, bracelets jangling.

  “Mama.” Ninkasi rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder, shepherding her away from the door. “It would be rude to keep him, Merve is leaving—”

  Her mother frowned. “Not on a big date, I hope?”

  “Change of plans.” Merve forced the door open. “I have the entire day free—”

  Ninkasi glared.

  “Fabulous!” Her mother flung open the door and threw her head back, downing the remnants of the martini. “Don’t date anyone else! I always knew you were the perfect match for my daughter!”

  “I heard Ninkasi is officially done with school.” He kissed her mother on the cheek. “I thought I would stop by and congratulate her.”

  “I could have failed, for all you know.” Ninkasi gave a sour smile. “I submitted my last written exam yesterday.”

  “You know your father has faith in those perfect scores of yours.” Her mother raked nails through her hair. “So much that he wants you to join him at work.”

  Face warping with disgust, she clutched her abdomen and bent forward. “I have putrefying gas that smells like a stale dumpster.” Ninkasi twisted away, abandoning Merve at the door. She waved an arm over her head, broke into a trot and declared, “I’ll be in the bathroom—”

  Merve smiled like the whole world was a photo shoot, handing the bouquet to Ninkasi’s mother. “Honesty is a virtue, and I want a virtuous wife.”

  There were no filthy or reviling images Ninkasi could conjure with words to accurately depict the disgust Merve Sterling conjured inside her. She stormed up the stairs.

  The dog had it right.

  Noah lurked in the den, observing his sister, and snickered. “Awesome!”

  Ninkasi slammed the bathroom door, securing the lock.

  Merve, that stupid bastard. Too dumb to take a hint.

  To her mounting disgust, she noticed a copy of Jambu Gossip beside the sink, boasting the headline, “Pinki Seth: Hos Over Bros diva talks sex tapes and demonic possession.” Ninkasi bit her lip and threw the magazine at the wall. Her mother paid for this trash, leaving it out in the open, and Noah later gobbled it hook, line, and sinker.

  Leaning over the sink, she stared into the mirror, green eyes staring back at her, disappointed: she was weary of this whole situation. She was weary of her parents telling her what to do—where to go to school, what classes to take, what job to have, who to marry, where to live, what to eat.

  And on top of that, she always cleaned up after her mother, looked after her siblings. Her father was too busy with work to see them, and he moved out more than a year ago—

  Ninkasi unhinged the rhinestone-studded clip at the back of her head, releasing a cascade of shimmering raven hair around her shoulders. She tugged at the cotton, form-fitting dress and slipped it over her head, revealing her olive skin and smallish breasts.

  She turned sideways, placing a hand on her stomach—her body was kind when faced with the inescapable sloth and emotional overeating that ruled the days of slaving for her degree. She hadn't gained weight, miraculously.

  Ninkasi pulled the elastic bands on a pair of pink, cotton bikini-cut panties, printed with cartoon cats and dogs, and let them drop to the floor. She bent forward, opening the cabinet beneath the sink, and rifled through a vast supply of toiletries. Retrieving a sack of Epsom salts, a canister of sea salts, and a plastic bag with sprigs of lavender, she waltzed to the bathtub.

  Plugging in the drain stopper, she twisted the faucet to release a gushing stream of water, adjusting it until it was comfortably hot. She dumped in the herbs and salts.

  Ninkasi dipped one foot in the water, swirling the salts to dissolve them, savoring the humid air. She climbed into the tub and yanked the curtain shut: it was her world now. She had to relax, to let off some steam.

  The hot water slowly climbed around her body. A deluge from the faucet splashing against her feet, she put her arms behind her head and let out an epic sigh.

  It took so long to fill the tub.

  The music of the thundering water drowned out all the conversations, the radio, the television, the arguments, the barking, all the sounds within the house.

  Including Merve’s wretched voice. She wondered how long she would have to hide in the bathroom before he gave up and left.

  Her parents adored him: she was prepared to soak for hours.

  The water slowly crept up her sides, over her tummy. Ninkasi closed her eyes, and thought about Toby Gold.

  Her favorite boy in the world. The boy she chased through all of high school and university. The boy she thought about when she was with her other boyfriends. The boy that got away.

  Toby Gold was a crazy mess, a failed conquest.

  The only satisfaction Ninkasi had in life was with her raunchy rich vampire novels.

  And with herself.

  In her secret place, behind the curtain, beneath the water, embraced by the heat of the bath in a misty haze of dreams—she held the power to bring her fantasies to life.

  Her fingers found the space between her legs and caressed with a technical precision.

  She imagined herself relaxing on the loft at a house party, away from the drunken madness below, where the music thumped a few decibels quieter. She sat with a girlfriend, or perhaps a study partner, swirling her one glass of wine that would last the evening.

  Until Toby appeared. Toby in his tight, sexy jeans with a naughty leather belt. Toby in a white t-shirt hugging his ripped chest. Toby with his hair like a haystack, his French-kissable square jaw, his blueberry pie-filling eyes.

  Toby rarely said a word
to her—this much of the fantasy was as true.

  He appeared, grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her down the hall. She was so swept away by the heat of his touch that she didn’t notice spilling her wine.

  Toby dragged her to a bedroom, slammed the door and threw her on a stranger’s bed.

  “Oh, Toby.” Ninkasi squirmed beneath him, pressing a feeble hand into his chest. She pretended to push him away, but really, she wanted to squeeze his muscles. “Toby, I can’t do this!”

  One strong hand pinned her to the bed. Another forced its way up her shirt, thick fingers clawing beneath her bra, squeezing her breasts.

  Toby nipped at her neck, trespassing beneath all she wore and caressing her chest. He smelled like soap and vanilla.

  “Toby, we don’t even know each other!” Her hips bucked against him. She closed her eyes, mouth falling open in ecstasy. “We can’t just—”

  His delicious tongue filled her mouth, stifling her cries. His fingers, more skilled than her own, unhinged the clasp on her bra. He ripped off her shirt; he ripped off his shirt.

  Ninkasi salivated.

  He shucked away her bra and forced his athletic body on top of her.

  She felt the warmth of his body against her chest, her tummy. She felt the heat of a fierce erection jabbing her soft inner thigh.

  He peeled away her pants, her underwear. Toby raked fingers through her hair like a wild animal, ramming his tongue down her throat.

  Ninkasi choked tormented cries, obstructed by the tongue in her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his body.

  Tugging his belt free, he reared up on his knees, shaggy blonde hair falling in his face, and snapped the belt with an evil grin.

  “Toby, no!”

  He lashed her luscious thigh with a snap of the belt.

  Ninkasi howled.

  He dive-bombed on top of her and tangled her wrists in his belt, securing the belt against the iron bed frame.

  She railed against the bonds, unable to wriggle free.

  Toby plucked her panties from the side of the bed, and wadded them into a tight ball. He hovered over Ninkasi, giving her one sloppy, slobbery kiss, and thrust the panties into her mouth, like a gag.

  Ninkasi cried muffled cries. Toby, how depraved!

  He kicked his pants away and knelt over her, scooping up her hips and shoving his monstrous cock into her body.

  Her fingers flicked faster.

  She imagined screaming out against the gag, beating her fists against the belt, unable to move, a wholly immobilized slave to the pleasure.

  Sweaty and grunting, Toby pumped her, pounded her, impaled her, rubbing her body at the right angle with his ginormous cock.

  Her hips lifted into the air, and their frantic, jerking movements became like one dance, one convoluted twitching being.

  He signaled with a beefy grunt he was ready to come. He ruthlessly pistoned into her, harder, faster—

  She tightened her legs around his body, moaning through the gag.

  His stony member tapped her limits and blasted hot seed into the deepest reaches of her body.

  She felt his cock tremor.

  Shivering, orgasmic contractions rolled deep within her. She felt the thump of her heart and her sex warming her blood, clearing her mind, enveloping her in pleasure.

  Toby continued to shoot inside her, a colossal orgasm erupting into a molten flow of ecstatic, delirium-inducing. . .

  Her fingers fell into a slow circle and then stilled.

  Ninkasi flicked off the faucet and sank into the tub, playing with herself.

  Poor boy. So ravished by her mind. Probably all he’d ever get.

  She sighed. More than she ever got. Rarely was reality more interesting than fiction.

  Today’s moment in the tub sure beat the erotic tentacle book she finished reading last week. She couldn’t wrap her mind around its appeal, much less find the appeal in slimy tentacles wrapped around her. It was impossible to imagine crazy wild sex with an alien.

  Ninkasi’s lip curled, staring with horror at the contents of the crisper drawer. She held her breath, valiantly pinching a plastic bag that squished with rotten carrots, and flung it toward the garbage can. “Eeyugh!”

  Noah kicked the garbage can closer toward the fridge.

  Heaving a sigh, she drummed her fingers against the refrigerator door. “Mom hasn't done much shopping since I started exams.”

  Noah snorted, his eyes following the rotten produce into the garbage.

  Ninkasi frowned, excavating another bundle of sloppy brown mush that was once parsley. “This ruins my plans for dinner. And Dad will be here soon.”

  “I should have told Merve you weren't home.” Noah shut his eyes and dared to grab what lurked in the back of the drawer. “I know you’d rather eat this entire crisper drawer than talk to him.”

  “I’m happy he left.” Ninkasi ripped the empty drawer from the fridge and hurtled it into the sink. “I thought for sure we’d have to endure him all through dinner.” She uncorked a bottle of red wine from the fridge, and sniffed. “Ugh, there’s nothing to cook with!” She dumped the bottle down the sink.

  “Don’t let Mom catch you doing that.” Noah pointed a finger.

  “I’m doing her a favor.” She tossed the bottle into the recycling. “The brambleberries are fresh, anyway.”

  Noah tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

  Dumping the berries onto a cutting board, she pulled out a knife. “I picked them this morning. Maybe we can make a nice salad.”

  Her brother scuttled to the counter, snatched a berry and popped it into his mouth. He pilfered the knife, hunkered over the counter, and sliced at the berries.

  “Be careful. It’s sharp.” Ninkasi flicked on the tap, and challenged the slimy drawer with a long-handled dish brush.

  Noah yelped and dropped the knife, a river of blood oozing from his thumb. “Nink!”

  “Relax.” Opening a cabinet, she grabbed tape and gauze.

  “There’s blood everywhere!” he whined.

  “Take a deep breath.” She secured the dressing, and coiled it with tape. “It’s not that bad. You won’t need stitches.” She lifted her brother’s hand in the air. “Keep it elevated.” She plonked a hand on his head. "You're hopeless."

  Noah crashed against her, breathing an epic sigh of relief.

  She was certain her mother heard her brother scream—and remained conveniently out of sight.

  Like always.

  Ninkasi shook her head, and returned to the monumental task at hand.

  Noah peered over her shoulder, fixated with a trinket on the stove. He walked over to examine a palm-sized, ceramic green lizard with blue frills and yellow spots. “I think it's funny we still have this.”

  “It’s cool.” Ninkasi smiled. “I’d keep it.”

  Noah picked up the lizard and studied it, puzzled. “I painted this when I was five.”

  “I think it would be cool if you painted an even bigger lizard.” Ninkasi widened her eyes.

  Her brother shook his head. “No. I’ll make Dad feel bad for never visiting and tell him to buy me a komodo dragon instead! How do you think I got all my action figures?” He trotted away, laughing nefariously. “Suckers!”

  The neurotic Chihuahua bayed at the door. His eyes bulged and his nose pointed at the ceiling, a frenzied, living alarm system. Ninkasi wondered if the dog might one day kill himself, barking like that.

  Ninkasi’s mother swept the yapping Chihuahua into her arms and stroked his head. “Who is it, my Wittle Man? Who is at the door? Who is makin’ you bark?”

  Noah tore open the door. “Dad!”

  Mr. Mara plowed a giant hand over his son’s head. “Noah!”

  Ninkasi’s mother slinked from the room with a placated animal.

  “Daddy!” Ninkasi stood on her toes and hugged her father.

  He squeezed her with a thick arm. “Congratulations! You’re ready for the real world!”

  Ninkasi recoiled, turning
away. “Ha, we’ll see.”

  “Something smells wonderful!” He set his bags on the floor. “What’s cooking?”

  She crossed her arms “We managed to throw something together.”

  Her father lowered his voice. “Your mother went shopping?”

  Noah opened his mouth to protest.

  “Of course!” Ninkasi threw her hands into the air, silencing her brother. “Why don’t you have a seat, Daddy? Dinner is almost ready. . .”

  Jackpot

  II.

  “I’ll make the decision once I can see what’s happening.” Aleister wrapped his arms around a low tree branch, and planted one heavy boot against the trunk. “I will assess the situation—” He grunted and squinted, fighting to hoist his hulking frame from the ground. “And I will, urgh” —foot slipping, he dangled from the branch— “give your orders—Fuck—”

  Orion pulled the fur-lined hood on a wool jacket over his head and turned his back to Aleister, stomach clenching with silent laughter.

  “I will give the signal—” Aleister issued a guttural sound, digging his heels into the trunk and forcing his body toward the tree’s lowest limb. “You will wait for my command!” His feet slipped again and he fell, landing on his ass. “Phobos, Deimos, can I get a boost, for all that is holy?!” Extending an arm, he implied everyone should rush to help him to his feet.

  The silver-haired twins zoomed to his side, assisting Aleister in his futile attempts to climb the tree.

  Next year, Aleister turned fifty. He possessed sufficient wit and cunning to lead their operations—but years of studying grimoires in the library with a pipe full of datura and taking first dibs on the dinner turkey took its toll on his physique. He was out of shape.

  Aleister was a brilliant man, but far too stubborn to step down in any situation, even when it suited him.

  Phobos supported Aleister’s backside with his shoulder, face smeared in an exhausted grimace.

  Aleister sought to wrap himself around the branch. Chest resting on the limb he desired, he kicked against the trunk to climb up. His hips sagged, pulling him toward the ground.