Skhye Moncrief - [Feral 01]

by Feral Fascinations (lit)

  He inhaled her hot breath and strained to hold still when his hips wanted to thrust.

  A sweet salty tang of blood melted across his tongue.

  His mouth watered.

  For her blood. God, all he wanted to do was pump his insanity away. Was he a wild animal? His participation marked him as guilty. A blood fucker. Only as long as he stayed here. He just needed to get back to earth. To escape. The blood could buy him more. Could keep her content until he came inside her. He licked the cold blade.

  Sparks whirled in his eyes, blocking most of his vision.

  Red Trekaar threw back her head and screamed.

  The rainbow of lights swirled so rapidly that he couldn’t see. Only their hearts were there, pounding to the inaudible beat.

  He exploded, arching up into her dampness to reach the stars as if he became their master.

  How peaceful this sparkling place was here within the internal heavens.

  Serene.

  No place existed like this on earth.

  Red Trekaar groaned and stilled atop his thrashing hips.

  She couldn’t be finished. The flitting stars beckoned him.

  Welcomed him.

  Red Trekaar’s body slumped backward. Her head fell against his shins.

  What now? He blinked a couple times, clearing the residual lightshow from his vision, and shoved onto his elbows.

  She lay atop him, on her back, sleeping as far as he could tell.

  “Red Trekaar?” He squeezed her thigh.

  She didn’t move.

  Christ, what now? He’d killed her with his blood or his fucking. What was up with these people? Or it was a woman thing. Women. He carefully lifted Red Trekaar, placed her sweaty curves upon their bed, and covered her with the gray metallic blanket.

  She was breathing.

  She was warm.

  She even had a pulse.

  Damn, no other woman could hold a flame to his wife’s beauty. But the other times they had sex, she hadn’t passed out. What had happened to her?

  His wife-mercenary looked mighty weak and helpless lying in the bed.

  She rooted around in the bedding.

  Maybe she was just human and fell victim to exhaustion? Just like when she dug through the nursery’s wreckage in search of survivors. Just like he was human. Would he be wrong to give in to her beauty? Her logic? Her passion? Or was he lying to himself to take the easy route out of this mess his crotch had gotten him into? Ecstasy? Right. More like crossing the line of decency. He should have listened to ranting Darla. Kindrist’s state was an omen.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  She reached up and rubbed both eyes.

  “You’re okay, Red Trekaar. You just passed out.”

  She peered up at him with yellow eyes. “Out?”

  When she looked in the mirror, she was going to be even more shocked. “Uh, honey, I hate to break the news to you, but your baby blues have turned yellow.”

  She shot up into a sitting position, staring at her bare toes on the plain gray bedding.

  “What’s wrong, Red?”

  “You should call me Kindrist since we are now expecting a child.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Holy fuck. Jake couldn’t breathe. I’ve fathered an alien baby. “No way. Don’t you need to kill a rabbit first before making a guy shit land mines?”

  Her confused gaze met his. “With my people, we have eye-color changes when our body chemistry is altered in reproduction.”

  What next? “Don’t tell me I’m God or anything even more whacko. Is there anything else that will shock the crap out of me?”

  Her eyes pinched with confusion. “No.” She shook her head. “The legends live. Because of you.”

  Why does something about this scenario remind me of that movie with early explorers landing on a continent where the producer has the heroine’s people running around thinking love and light? Oh yeah, that was about my People. Totally ludicrous.

  “Jake we embark to meet our destiny.” She froze and stared vacantly across the room.

  Okay, just another conversation I’m not privy to. Where’s my damned pants? These people talk behind a guy’s back and strip him butt naked for the pump-and-grind whims of an alien seductress. The crap about destiny started to turn into a comedy starring Jake Straightarrow, Wonder Stud. He shook a finger in the air.

  Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

  “I don’t believe in destiny crap. And forget any legends live stuff for my sake. I just need to know what the hell is going on. Especially if I’ve fathered a child. Shit! A child.” He stepped toward the chamber’s portal. “I can’t find my pants. And I’m fornicating with an alien.” He spun to her bewildered mask. “You sure as hell don’t look upset. And all of you talk behind my back. What happened to sharing information so the dumb earthling knows what’s going on?” Her honor certainly couldn’t ignore that punch.

  She shook her head and haphazardly waved a palm at him. “Earthlings have sex to procreate. So do Nulvitians.”

  “For the record, I was having sex for recreation on earth.”

  “Then you should have used preventative measures.” She kicked her blanket off and slunk her perfect nude curves across the room to another god-damned invisible button.

  A door opened. She produced more black leather clothing, and covered her seductive hour-glass body in silence.

  Fine. If she was trying to populate the universe with some sort of Straightarrow spawn, she needed to get those damned tight-ass pants back on before he lost control again.

  “Your biorhythms are set with mine now, Straightarrow. So, you won’t need a Beast Tamer until I do. The sexual desire is another problem. Let me know when you need me.” She strode to the door and shot him a glance. “I’ll check in on you later. And since you’re keeping up with the record, I prefer the sex over the blade.” She shot him a wink. “Just call me an animal.”

  Who wouldn’t prefer the fucking with her blood libation? Shit.

  The door shut out the sight of her.

  Fantastic. My god-damned crotch got me locked in a cell with invisible buttons. I’ll be really screwed if I can’t find the pisser again. Might as well get some sleep. He headed for the bed but found himself pacing.

  So much for returning to earth the planet’s hero. Nobody had to tell a Native American about the value of half-breeds. His child couldn’t possibly be considered anything more than an abomination. What if its hair changed color? What if it was a girl whose eyes changed color when pregnant? He paced his quarters.

  Christ. He’d gone and enjoyed having sex with an alien. He stopped cold and stared at his reflection in the window.

  A shirtless man stared back.

  Nude for the most part. Foolish and naïve in his birthday suit. Was there any reason to dress? Just hanging out the animal he had become, trapped in his sex cage, seemed the simplest way to deal with this madness. But sex with Kindrist wasn’t just for pleasure. Something deep and demanding pushed him forward. To what? Could something bigger than him, something metaphysical, be drawing his soul mate and him together?

  Earth was on the line.

  His ass was on the line.

  His child was on the line.

  Every damned thing worth saving begged he hang on to some invisible rope. But pulling meant he didn’t get a choice. Or did he? Factoring in abstinence might have kept his ass from drip-drying while dancing the Samba across the tightrope of a proverbial line. He had made choices. Unfortunately, choices left little time for comparing pros and cons. The stakes had changed with fatherhood. Destiny had to be laughing. Nothing mattered now but being true to oneself and protecting one’s child. Room for mistakes lay in his past.

  The future echoed with survival. And taunted with a seductress who wielded an even greater burden. Dare he believe her story?

  Her planet was destroyed.

  She gave her life to a cause fighting for freedoms.

  The enemy attacked the ship’s nu
rsery to kill any children she may have birthed because of a legend.

  And she wouldn’t permit her commander to sacrifice a crew member’s freedom for the greater good.

  Sounds like Red operates on honorable ethics.

  Factor in great sex….

  That’s a plus. No, behaving like an animal doesn’t count. Only morals count to civilized folks. And I’ve got morals. For now, it’s save-your-child-and-see-the-universe mode. That beat the Army’s promise of seeing the world.

  * * * *

  Kindrist stepped into the invisible doorway to Goro’s map room. Would he even cringe at his actions? He had gone through with the experiment aside from what free thinkers would think of his actions. Aside from her debate of his ethics. The Mawshwuc bit the crewman. What would destiny reveal next of the Blood War twisting her commander?

  In the ship’s dark map room, Goro’s faintly-sketched back was turned to Kindrist as she walked up to let him look upon her eyes. His form traced out a black void like one in space among the stars, except for his glinting shaved head.

  “I sense you have something to share,” he said in mindspeak without turning from the luminescent star charts he studied.

  The commander’s keen intellect had to hold him to free-thinking ethics. He dared not break code and read her mind. Or would that be the next oath he broke? She stepped beside him and met his gaze.

  He peered into her now-changed eyes for a moment and nodded. “What does your husband think, Kindrist?”

  If Jake realized the significance of Goro’s back step in this war, he’d jettison himself into the merciful vacuum of space and die. But the commander hasn’t read my thoughts. So, I’ll play along and pretend all is as normal as expected. “He’s confused.”

  “An honest answer.” He nodded. “But he fears the unknown just as you did when you joined The Cause.”

  Right as usual. Why did Goro have to be so wise? “I would speak to him more but he needs time to process the news.”

  Goro pointed at Quadrant Eleven. “Voldon’s forces nucleate here. We need to act quickly. Can you bring Straightarrow over in enough time to train him to sabotage a neural network?”

  In the name of free-thinking children, I have no choice.

  “And does my star pupil think I have erred today?” Goro watched her in his unnerving patient manner.

  “Perhaps you would prefer to probe my mind for your answer?”

  “Kindrist.” Goro chuckled, “We fight the same enemy. If you had been the volunteer today, I would have done the same thing.”

  “A dead woman cannot give birth to your savior.” Undoubtedly his reason for not utilizing her in his grand scheme to test Voldon’s power.

  Goro’s mask melted into disapproval. “You were young when you came to The Cause. Maybe I should have turned you away.”

  “You couldn’t. I was the last Nulvitian.” Truth punched her in the gut.

  He nodded once, solemnly like a sage. “And now we shall have a half-Nulvitian to take up your torch when your days have passed.”

  Just what did that imply? My usefulness was almost over?

  “We fight the same war, Kindrist. And you shall always be more important to The Cause alive.”

  Maybe his actions were for the greater good. If not, free thinkers had little time.

  “Go now, Kindrist. Your eyes are a testament to our victory.”

  True. Goro always spoke truth. He was inspiration for all those who struggled to clutch their freedoms. Today, her perceptions of him erred. She had to try harder to be more devout. Maybe spend time in meditation. Goro was her mentor for a reason. What had she done questioning his actions? Meditation was an excellent way to spend the many months of gestation. Safe. Practical. She nodded and pivoted to the invisible doorway.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake stared at the strange gray popsicle-bomb-shaped vehicle. Okay, they said the thing was supposed to be a machine. “It’s an aircraft?” he asked his not-so-pregnant-looking pregnant wife who stood to his right inside the quiet docking bay.

  “Spacecraft.” Kindrist stepped off to pace out a tapping tune around the ship with the heels of her black boots.

  Oh yeah, I’m in space. How did anyone shaped like a six-foot human male ever fit inside that narrow flat vehicle? He scanned the four other identical windowless and seamless pod fighters sitting next to the one Kindrist circled in the otherwise empty cavernous chamber.

  Weird. Father a child and earn an honorary pilot’s license? “Not only do I know nothing of flying aircraft, but I’m just as techo-dumb with spacecraft.” Maybe I wasn’t the best earthling for the job?

  “A computer operates the fighter. You just tell it what to do.”

  Now, if I tell it to fly to earth and it does, we’re in business. Shit. I’ve got a child to protect. But maybe escape could work into the picture later. Paying attention should pay off in the long run. “How does one fit inside this vehicle?”

  Kindrist’s black form stepped around the nose-shaped front end of the ship. “You’ll lie on your back, inside. You’re really safe. There’s a view screen that shows you where you’re heading. The autopilot flies you to your destination as well as protects you with an advanced defense system.”

  Right. Can’t psychics blow up things with their minds? “What kind of advanced defense system can protect me from psychics?”

  She claimed a spot beside him, assumed an at-ease stance, and locked that eerie golden gaze upon his. “You are the most important weapon The Cause has at the moment. We wouldn’t send you into battle without the best defenses.”

  What else was a sex-slave-turned-stud secret weapon to believe? He’d seen the lack of protection for the nursery. “How will I be any safer than the nursery?”

  Her gaze slid slowly to the aircraft and back to his. “You won’t have me slowing you down.” She smiled weakly.

  Boy, there is nothing like a nervous wife faking smiles, especially on a woman who never smiles.

  She reached for a spot on the gray metallic hull. “Note this location.”

  A crease broke the seamless siding, sketching out a hatch running the back half the length of the upper part of the fighter. The hatch slid forward to reveal the ship’s inner barren black interior.

  Great. He’d be trying to get his sorry sad ass in and out of shit and never be able to find the invisible button. “So, I climb inside this trash can, no, coffin, and head out for some covert maneuver in a place where I’m as alien as you are to me. Hmmm. What’s Plan B?”

  Kindrist waved toward the interior’s black hole. “For now, let’s see if you fit comfortably inside and tune this craft to your biorhythms. Afterward, I’ll explain everything you need to know.”

  “Talk about need to know…. All the guys back home need to know to look out for sexy babes in tight Gothic leather attire.” He swung a leg down into the capsule, then the other, and shoved his boots all the way to the tip of the hole.

  Kindrist smacked her lips and leaned toward him to peer at his knees. “Lie back.”

  “Bossy, aren’t you. Must be the hormones.” He shot her a smirk and stretched back into his coffin. “So, does my body explode or something? Why the freaking crypt ambiance? You do need me alive, right?”

  She stepped out of his view of metallic rafters and sheet metal.

  The hatch slid shut.

  Christ. “I’m really not ready to dash off into the unknown and fight 8-legged spies.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” her voice echoed.

  The hatch snapped out the last of the docking-bay’s light.

  Lying in the dark had to be equivalent to death. Talk about royally screwing the pooch. Damn, she is a were-wolf. How much pooch-ier could things get? Wait. She needs my blood.

  A square screen lit up overhead.

  Lights, camera, action. Maybe this was a time to contemplate rebirth. All the holy men back on the reservation would love a chance to chant at my ass while raking me over the proverb
ial coals. Gods, I should have seen this coming. My damned gut must be on vacation.

  An orange beam of light shot out to his forehead.

  Okay, this was supposed to be a bonding experience. Bonding didn’t equate to pain. Kindrist would pay for painful alien probing. Baby or not.

  The beam shifted left to right and back again, fast, calculating his body like he rested inside an MRI.

  “Please state your name and planet of origin,” a woman’s soft computerized voice commanded in perfect mechanical English as the orange beam zigzagged across his head toward the tips of his lost toes.

  Those boots had to be lost in the darkness given there was no pain. At least this ship wasn’t psychic. Well, if it had mastered telepathy, earthlings were less-evolved. But the fighter spoke English. He could communicate with the ship. Command the freaking thing to fly to earth. Cooperation was his ticket home. Uh, after saving the baby. Why in the Hell couldn’t I keep my pants zipped? “Jake Straightarrow, earth.”

  “Welcome, Straightarrow. Your password is thunderbird. To activate my flight status, you must say thunderbird. Speak of this to no one.”

  Who gave the computer that culturally-specific term? So much for secrecy. “Gotcha.”

  “Your bio-stats note you have forty-three earth hours until you must mate.”

  Fantastic. What else would this squawking bird tell everyone? “Are we finished? Because I’m ready to get my feet under me.”

  “Walk the path of destiny, Straightarrow.” The hatch slid open.

  Who taught the flight computer Native-American sayings? To never hear destiny uttered again.... But the words so sounded like Native-American dogma. Bizarre.

  Brilliant light flooded the compartment.

  Kindrist leaned into view, a shadow-cloaked torso, among the metal grid work overhead. “I told you the process was painless.”

  “Funny how you can’t read my mind but knew I wondered about pain.”

  She turned her head left and shot him a sideways smile with some obliging light. “We’re all alike when it comes down to basics. We yearn for simple freedoms that make life a happy experience. A pain-free existence is part of the picture. Now, what would you like to know?”