Why had they done all that, been seriously injured, some of them, just to take her clothes? Were her clothes valuable to them? Could they get information about Earth from them somehow? She knew she would never puzzle out what an alien might want cheap cotton and polyester for, for all she knew it was like moon dust to them, selling for millions on alien eBay, or it acted as fuel in their fusion reactor or something. They’d even taken her watch. Had they taken her just for her clothes? But then why wait three days before cutting them off her? Had they been waiting for her to take them off on her own and grown impatient?
She really didn’t think her nakedness was a sexual thing for them, not after they’d fled like bats out of hell as soon as they’d got her clothes. Would it be a sexual thing for Gron? Did that make her afraid? It could be that he hadn’t realised she was female with her body covered up. It could still be that his species didn’t have females that looked like her, or didn’t require the male-female binary for reproduction. Maybe his kind had breeding seasons or rituals or rules that she was not a part of. She probably didn’t have the right pheromones. Maybe he didn’t find her attractive.
For all of this, though, she knew it boiled down to if he wanted to force her, he could. She didn’t stand a chance against his size and obvious strength. So far though, he had not been violent or lecherous towards her, not in any way she recognised at least. In fact, he had actively and repeatedly avoided her touching him. She didn’t think her being naked would change the way he treated her. She realised she had a kind of faith in him. Not trust exactly but she felt like she had learned enough to accurately predict him. Or she hoped she had anyway.
She didn’t want to be naked. She was cold now. The cell was temperate enough to be okay with clothes on, but not without. She had goosebumps and she felt as if the metal was leeching the heat from her. She was still modest enough to be seriously uncomfortable. Ruth didn’t get naked in front of other people very often. Gron had been naked this entire time, but it never seemed to bother him. Maybe his people didn’t wear clothes. He probably thought very little of the fact that she was now naked, but that didn’t mean she could just relax.
She remembered the feel of being unable to move while little hands and big blades stripped her. That memory wasn’t going away any time soon. They hadn’t used the blades in the fight, even though Gron could very easily have killed them. Why? The only answer she could think of was that they didn’t want to kill, or risk killing, them. That implied they needed them for something. Ruth turned her face to the wall and tried not to cry again as she tried to imagine what that something might be.
Chapter 11
Gron groaned as he dragged his knee under himself to take some weight off his shaking arms. The effect of the sticks was still weakening him. Gruth had recovered and withdrawn to the other side of the cell, out of his sight, but he was still struggling. She had ignored him when he called to her. That was fair. He had failed. He had not been strong enough to protect her. She would not want him now.
Right then he had the strength of a newborn as he dragged himself to rest against the wall, shame and self-loathing swirling in his stomach, making him sick. He had known they were coming. He had heard and smelled that there was too many, before they had even opened the hatch. Not knowing how else to protect her, he had moved Gruth into the corner and stood over her, ready to fight.
He did not know why they came to hurt him with their sticks, but he had never had to protect anyone before. It made him careful. But there had been too many and he had fallen, and they had still got to her.
Before the attack, Gruth had been sitting with him, as she had done the day before, talking in her own language. He guessed she was talking about her home, or what rituals he would have to follow to become one of her males. He did not understand, but he wished he did. The more used to her voice he got, the more lovely it sounded to him. She must have thought he was intelligent to think he was worth talking to, that maybe eventually he would learn her language, but it was difficult.
Their relationship was strange. She did not ask anything of him, she had stopped trying to touch him, but still she came to sit near him and speak to him. It seemed to be important to her that they eat together, at the same time, near each other, so he tried to comply. It was difficult because normally the Queens would eat first, and only when they had had their fill would the males eat. He remembered how she had insisted he eat from her food, which would have had him punished in his own tribe. He was so often torn between following the traditions of his people and obeying the Queen in front of him. He supposed to defy her would have been the worst thing he could do. And the way she bared her teeth at him. It had a dangerously captivating effect, which he supposed was her intention. Another of her seductions. He had not meant anything by it when he copied her, was merely trying to gage her reaction, which did not appear to be positive. It was confusing.
She had been in the cell with him for such a short time, but he already felt life returning to him, his mind being stimulated again and elevated past the animal level he had sunk to through isolation and violence. He knew that even if he did not Bind himself to her, he could not go back to being alone. He could not allow her to be taken from him. He would not. He wished he could say it was for her sake, and undoubtedly if he let his captors take her away it would not be pleasant for her, but his main concern was selfish.
But then he had failed. He had been so scared, but so determined to fight. He was going to make them regret entering their cell. But they had got to her anyway, while he was on the floor, as useless as a child. When she had armed herself with one of their sticks, he knew he had failed as her protector. She thought him too weak, she knew he would lose. Her cry when they finally caught her felt like the last thing he would ever hear. He would have given away the rest of his life to have been able to save her then. They had hurt her and he had been unable to stand for her.
The pain of the four sticks buried in him kept him on the floor. Even now, the memory was like a ringing in his nerves. He had watched as her two attackers drew blades and knelt beside where she lay, unable to move from the stings she had received. They cut through her coverings and he was sure he would watch them eat her, kill her, remove some part of her. But they had not. They had only taken the fabric and disappeared.
That confused him, but he did not question it. He only thanked the Mother Goddess from the bottom of his heart for hearing his prayers and preserving her. She had been hurt by the sticks, but he knew from experience that that was only temporary. She would live. She would be as she always had. Whole.
He still had hope, then. He had hope that they would recover from the attack, and the damage would not be much. He looked to her, trying to struggle himself to her, so he could check her wounds and rub his pelt against her skin, so she would know she had a male. But she was not looking at him. She was struggling to move, but she would not look at him. She would not acknowledge him when he spoke to her, not even when he called her name. She recovered more motion than he did and removed herself, away from him to the side of the cell that had become hers. The message was clear: she wanted nothing more to do with him. He had failed. He had proven himself to be weak and unable to protect her and as a result she had been touched by those creatures. She had discovered he was not worthy.
He moaned as he fought his body across to the wall. He had wanted to save her. He had wanted her to look at him and bare her teeth in that strange way, to try to touch him again. He couldn’t let the Bond form, but the selfish parts of him liked it that she tried. Perhaps he would have let her fingers brush his skin for a moment before stopping them. He liked the way her voice sounded when she bared her teeth, like when the children of the tribe would play in the sunshine.
That was over now. Now he would have to endure her silence and disappointment and reproach until their time in this cell ended, whenever that would be. He would have to let her go, and meet his fate knowing he had failed her.
Gron rea
ched the wall and collapsed against it. He had no energy, and no will to fight anymore. He bore one last look at her; he had to see if she was improving, how she was faring. Her bare skin gave him pause. He knew she would look different from him - she already did – but to have no pelt at all? Perhaps that was why she wore the coverings. She must suffer scratches and grazes from the slightest thing. Her long mane hung down her back providing some cover, but not much. The bones of her spine raising her skin was alarming, he had never seen that before. He could see her ribs too. He could see no muscle on her and wondered if she was malnourished. He suddenly felt very bad about taking the morsel she had offered him from her rations. He noticed as well that she had no tail. If he was right about her coming from a tribe that lived off the fruits of the ocean, her smooth skin would ease her passage through the water and dry more quickly. With no tail, she could not be from the trees as he was.
She was sitting hunched away from him, but he had already seen enough to know she was mature. Perhaps young, but mature. She did not look like she had borne many children though, and the idea threaded through his mind again that perhaps she had not mated yet, not yet gathered her harem. Perhaps she was captured because she had only just left her tribe and was alone. She was very brave to attempt to Bind him so quickly, if that was the case.
Even if she had no other males, she still knew that he was not strong enough. Even with no other males to protect and care for her in this place, she would not take him. That cut him deeply, but he deserved it, he knew. He had failed. She was still now. Her shoulders were not shaking with sobs and her breathing was controlled and steady. He could rest.
He allowed his shoulders to slide along the wall until he lay on the ground, and he fell asleep, thinking of her back turned to him.
Chapter 12
Ruth was cold. The adrenaline of the attack had left her, and she had nothing left to eat or drink. Food was clearly being withheld, either as punishment or because they were too busy treating their wounded. She hoped vindictively that it was the latter, but she recognised that it didn’t make a difference. She was still hungry. If it was the latter though, food might come sooner. She was shaking quite badly now. She didn’t want to be, but it was like she couldn’t get over it, couldn’t calm down. She’d really thought for a moment that she was going to be sexually assaulted by a group of aliens, while the only person who could help her was pinned to the floor two feet away.
She looked over to where Gron lay. If she was being charitable, she’d say he’d passed out. If she was being mean, she’d say he’d fallen asleep. She wished she could sleep, but she couldn’t bring her body to unbend. She wasn’t sure if she should go over and check on him. He’d taken a lot more than she had. He might be seriously hurt. On the other hand, what could she do? She didn’t know what his pulse should be, or even where to find it on him. If he wasn’t breathing, she didn’t know how to revive him. Try to copy the Kiss of Life she’d seen on TV? She sighed. She should probably get over herself and at least go and see if he was alive. If he was asleep or unconscious, she didn’t have to worry about being naked. She could get back over to huddle against the wall without him ever seeing her body.
She really hoped he was alive. He seemed to have been recovering when she’d left him, but she really didn’t want to be held in a cell with a dead body. That would be nightmarish. She also didn’t want to lose him. Ruth didn’t know if she could exactly call him a friend, but he was, in many ways, her partner. They were in the same situation, with the same goals, as far as she knew. And he was kind of cute, and funny when he tried to copy her to communicate. He’d fought almost to the death to protect her.
She was halfway across the cell when she noticed he was breathing. She could go back now.
She went closer.
His body was covered with welts from the sticks, and his skin looked shiny with sweat. His breathing was not like it had been before when he slept, now it was shallow and uneven.
Ruth was still painfully aware that she was naked. Should she wake him or let him rest? The truth was, she’d really like it if he was awake. He couldn’t say anything to make her feel better, but listening to him try would distract her at least. She wanted his dark, calm eyes to be looking her as he rumbled soothingly. She wanted things to be how they were before, that morning, yesterday... Had she really only been there for three days?
Waking him would be mean. She should let him recover from his ordeal. But she couldn’t go back to sit naked and cold on her side of the cell and just wait through the hours it took him to wake up. She reached out and softly brushed the back of his hand with her fingers.
“Gron...” she whispered. Nothing. He was out. She tried again, shaking his hand a little harder. She felt like a kid who’d had a nightmare trying to wake their parent, and it made her feel ridiculous, but the cell felt too quiet and too dark and now she’d started trying she just really wanted him to wake up. Giving up on his hand, she reached tentatively for his side. “Gron...”
As soon as her fingers touched him he flinched and bolted awake. He crouched defensively, clearly braced for an attack, blinking at her as his half-asleep mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. She held up her hands as if to show she was unarmed, trying to keep her breasts hidden behind her knees. Gron looked around the cell and at the hatch, then back at her when he didn’t find a threat. Ruth noticed he hadn’t moved as quickly or as confidently as she was used to. He must still be sore.
He was clearly confused, and she felt bad for scaring him. She wrapped her arms around herself and mimed shivering, rubbing her hands up and down. His eyes dropped to her breasts. Okay, not her intention. She was getting stiff from how tightly she was huddled trying to shield everything.
“I’m cold,” she said, knowing full well that it wouldn’t make a difference. “Gron.” She reached for his hand again, and he pulled it back an inch or two. She almost groaned. She was getting nowhere. Everything sucked. She was cold and hungry and hadn’t had anything to drink in hours and was it so bad that she just wanted to cuddle and take a nap?! She’d had a pretty bad time of it so far, and she was prepared to settle for holding hands for a few seconds, but she was still being shirked like a leper. She was going to lose her freaking mind if he didn’t bend a little on this. She refused to believe he came from a society that never touched ever under any circumstances, and even if he was, she’d really appreciate it if he could get over it for now and just wash his hands when they got out of this damn cell!
It suddenly occurred to her that he might be married, or the alien equivalent thereof, and that was why touching her was such a no-no. He could have a Mrs Gron back at the ranch, and a handful of Gron Juniors, waiting for Daddy to come home, and he wanted to be able to do that with a clean conscience. He probably wanted to be able to tell the woman he loved that he hadn’t touched another woman while he’d been away, and she was trying to ruin that for him.
But no, he’d touched her before. It was only when she tried to touch him that he had a problem.
The hell with it, she thought. She wasn’t trying to get into his non-existent pants, and this was about survival. He might be misinterpreting her actions, but he’d figure it out when nothing happened. At this point, she was ready to back him into a corner if she had to. Chasing him around the cell would keep her warm at least. She didn’t think he’d really attack her, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
Ruth reached for his hand again, a little faster. Not snatching, but not obviously giving him the opportunity to pull away either. She got him this time, but he didn’t seem to be pulling away. The fur on the back of his hand felt strange under her palm. It was coarse and thick, but his fingers and palm were just like a human man’s. He said something to her, and it sounded important, but she didn’t know how to react. He could have been saying anything. He was looking at her like he was asking her to do something, or not to do it, without any hope of getting his way. Well, engaging in a taboo would probably get a
reaction like that.
She moved closer, lifting his arm and turning her back to his chest. He was so warm. She could feel the heat coming off him and she wasn’t even skin-to-skin with him, the tips of the fur on his chest were only tickling her back. She pulled his arm around to lay it on her stomach. It was heavy and bulked up with muscle. Gron wasn’t holding her, barely even touching her except where she positioned him, but he didn’t pull away. Ruth sighed as his warmth slowly soaked into her, relaxing her tense muscles and just letting her know another person was there. Gron said something again, sounding choked.
“I know, big guy,” she murmured back to soothe him. “I know you don’t want to do this, but just a little longer please...” Oh yeah, she could definitely sleep like this. She felt cruel forcing him, but she wasn’t going to have sex with him, and if Mrs Gron got pissed, he could just tell her it was necessary to keep Ruth going.
She let herself slip back against him, and he moaned, followed by some more grunting words. Maybe she had it wrong, and he was actually like a celibate monk, and she was testing his vows or something. But she didn’t think she was turning him on because there was nothing poking her and his arm was still totally lax around her waist. He wasn’t trying for a feel at all. He was probably just disgusted by her - small, bald, tail-less human that she was – and manfully enduring her to be nice until he could get away. She’d take it. He was like a fur rug in front of a fireplace and she was the cat right now. She stroked his forearm absently, running her nails through the fur, and he shuddered.
Ruth's Bonded (Ruth & Gron Book 1) Page 6