Taming Ryock

by Sara Page

She makes a disturbed sound as she puts the first fingerful of food into her mouth, but when I shrug at her, shoveling a handful into my mouth, she grumbles loudly before she starts eating.

  With our trays empty and wiped clean, I look around us. There isn’t a bathing facility in our quarters and I can already smell the after-effects of our mating. While pleasant at the start and end, it will easily become pungent in here if we are not careful.

  Flinging my metal tray towards the corner by the door, I watch as Izlah does the same thing with a small giggle. We are children at play almost, when I think of our predicament. If only the damn cameras weren’t so incessantly watching us.

  Getting a hopeful idea, I look back up to the ceiling, saying loudly, “Send the doctor back down. We need to talk.”

  I have no clue if they will even listen, but time will tell.

  Izlah looks at me then the ceiling with a question in her eyes.

  Pointing to my eyes, I look around the cage and then point to the ceiling.

  Then I say, “They have cameras in the ceilings to watch us with, and microphones for the technicians to use.”

  She catches on to some of it as she nods her head slowly. Pointing to the ceiling then her eyes as she says, “Camera.”

  Nothing comes from me talking to the cameras several times over the last few hours. Izlah and I have made progress in speaking, but it’s been achingly slow.

  My language and hers are just too far apart.

  Where mine is full of guttural growls and grunts, hers is fluid and full of words. At least that’s the gist I get when she keeps getting frustrated at our slow progress. She seems to use a few words quite often, and if I’m guessing correctly they have to do with sex or feces.

  I worry about the days that will come ahead.

  What will happen when the breeding experiment ends?

  What if she does become pregnant with our child? We certainly won’t be allowed to keep it. Even worse, she could be tested on during her pregnancy. I highly doubt they will be gentle with their administrations. They’re a disgusting race, and I am willing to bet if she is able to get pregnant with my child, they will try to breed her with other races as well.

  I will never see her again.

  I can feel it in my bones.

  I can also feel the terror creeping in on me that if I do get her pregnant, they will experiment on the child.

  Chapter Eight

  Isla

  Time slips by slowly, the hours blurring together, and we fall into a routine. Sleep, wake up, clean ourselves as best as we can. Eat the one meal the bugs provide us, and try our best to bridge this language barrier between us.

  Thankfully, Ryock has quickly caught on to the word no, though we rarely need to use it in any capacity. I’ve only had to use it a handful of times, mainly when he was trying to lick me to groom me.

  Yeah, yuck.

  I’d do anything for this guy, but a tongue bath is totally a hard limit for me.

  “Izlah, kaak?” Ryock asks as his big hands roam over me.

  I’ve learned that word must mean good, or something close to it, over the past few days.

  “Izlah kaak,” I smile at him and he smiles back, obviously pleased.

  His hands stroke up and down my sides and back. He tries to act as if he’s doing it for my benefit, but I’ve caught on by now that he’s doing it in a way to check me.

  I don’t know how I can feel it, I just do. Underneath my own thoughts and emotions, there’s an itch there. I can sense him in a way. His concern for me. His worry about the future and what it might bring.

  I try not to think that far ahead, but with so much time on our hands, my thoughts drift in that direction more than I like.

  What will happen to us? What are these bugs planning to do to us?

  How much time do we have left?

  When did me become we?

  “Ryock, kaak?” I ask, snuggling up to his chest.

  “Ryock kaak,” he purrs with contentment.

  “Good,” I sigh and try to focus on the now. His touch. His smell. His heat.

  We haven’t done anything beyond pet each other since that first night and I’m not sure if we will again. It’s not that I don’t want to. Seriously, there’s something about Ryock that calls to me, creates an ache inside me.

  It’s that the environment we’re trapped in is far from sexy.

  Every time I glance towards the glass the bugs replaced, I find Gararl watching me. Grinning at me. Thrusting that monstrous dick at me.

  He’s been even worse since the bugs dragged the lifeless body of that blue girl out.

  Ryock’s hands stroke up my sides, nearly reaching my armpits.

  I suddenly squirm and giggle on top of his lap. “Stop that, it tickles.”

  “Tickles?” Ryock repeats slowly. He’s getting much better at properly enunciating English words.

  I wish I could say the same.

  His language still gives me a great deal of trouble. There’s a lot of growls and most of the r’s sound like purrs. Not to mention, most of the words feel heavy on my tongue.

  The sounds are hard, with nothing soft between them to give the tongue a break.

  “Yes, tickles,” I smile and push his hands away.

  Ryock cocks his head to the side and his hands begin to drift back up, despite me pushing them away.

  The tips of his fingers brush across that sensitive bit of flesh underneath my armpit again and I can’t stop the need to laugh or escape them.

  “Izlah, huk’kav?” he asks, his fingers mercilessly teasing me.

  I haven’t figured that word out yet.

  “Stop it, please,” I plead, still giggling, and gently slap his hands away.

  I absolutely hate being tickled. It’s like torture to me, and sometimes, embarrassingly, it makes me need to pee.

  Ryock frowns and his fingers stop. “Izlah kaok rad rako Ryock nukark hor huk’kav?”

  I pant, trying to catch my breath and Ryock stares at me. His brows knit together in confusion and his lips pull down in scowl.

  And if I’m not mistaken, I sense that he’s somehow hurt as well.

  “Is your kind not ticklish?” I ask, racking my brain. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain what he does makes me laugh but I completely hate it without further hurting his feelings.

  He blinks at me, totally not following.

  “Not ticklish?” I repeat and reach out, trailing the tips of my fingers up his sides before I wiggle them around in his armpits.

  Man, it’s almost like a jungle in there with all the hair. Thankfully, it’s dry though. For such a big, hairy guy, he doesn’t seem to sweat that much.

  He’s doesn’t react, completely unfazed by my attempts to tickle him.

  “Not ticklish,” he repeats slowly, and I sense some of that hurt fading away.

  “Are you sure?” I ask with a grin as I get an idea.

  I wiggle my fingers down his sides.

  The guy is like stone, he doesn’t even blink. My tips trace each dip and groove of his abs, and boy are there a lot of them. He has muscles for days and days.

  I peer up at him through my lashes and ask innocently, “Not even here?”

  He frowns.

  I push my hands down, tickling the lines that lead to his groin, all the while watching his face.

  His eyes flash and he shifts, finally giving me a reaction, though it’s not the reaction I want.

  I stop.

  “Maybe you’re a beneath-the-chin kind of guy…” I say thoughtfully and wiggle my fingers up his chest.

  Once I reach his pecs, I purposely wiggle my fingers over his nipples to tease him.

  He grunts and his nipples harden. My fingers give them each one good flick before they’re back on their way.

  He jerks and his eyes begin to darken. His lids lower and the way he’s looking at me now it’s like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

  Too bad I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I just
have this sudden urge to touch him, to explore him, and this trying to find his ticklish spots thing is merely an excuse to do it without feeling like I’m taking advantage of him.

  The whole being forced to mate thing has really put a kink in our relationship. And it’s not the good kind of kink either.

  I have all these feelings of guilt and self-doubt about what happened. I pretty much feel like it was a pity fuck. He only did it because he’s a good guy, and it makes me feel pathetic.

  On one hand, it was good, so good. The best sex I’ve ever had. I didn’t think it would work, you know, physics and everything, but somehow it did. My body adjusted to him… to his size, to his girth. And when he was inside me, it felt like he was always meant to be there. That we were meant to be connected.

  But that was in the heat of the moment…

  Now that things have cooled down, I don’t know where I stand with him. Sure, he’s protective and looks out for me, but that could simply be because he’s a good guy. It doesn’t necessarily mean more than that.

  Ugh. I don’t even know if he truly finds me attractive. I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, but I do know I’m just as much an alien to him as he is to me. No doubt to him I look very strange compared to his species’ women.

  My hand runs along his shoulder and then I slide my fingers up his neck. He doesn’t try to stop me. No, he’s been very still so far. I hope I’m not making him uncomfortable with my exploration.

  Smiling at him, I curl my fingers and begin to scratch him underneath his chin.

  His reaction is immediate. His eyes close with a look of pure bliss and he begins to purr as he tips his head back.

  “Ah, so you are a beneath-the-chin kind of guy,” I say softly.

  “Kaak…” He groans out.

  I giggle and his eyes slowly open. He pushes his chin into my hand, demanding more, and before I realize what’s happening, his hands are lifting, fingers teasing my ticklish spots again.

  “No kaak!” I squeal and twist to escape his hands.

  He frowns and his fingers stop. “No kaak? No huk’kav?”

  “No kaak,” I repeat and continue scratching.

  Slowly, reluctantly, his hands drop away, and I can’t help but sigh at the look at his face. Yet again I’ve managed to hurt his feelings.

  Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I chew on it for a moment, and then tell him. “You don’t have to stop touching me.”

  His head tips to the side, his eyes studying me.

  Reaching down with my free hand, I grab his closest hand and press it against my stomach. “Touch me.”

  We both look down to see his hand against my stomach. His skin is so dark against mine, but I kind of like the contrast.

  And I definitely like the feel of him.

  His hand is warm, his palm strangely soft and smooth as if the skin is new.

  I watch as his fingers spread, amazed that his entire hand more than covers my belly.

  “Kad,” he murmurs, looking up into my eyes.

  Whatever that is it must be a good thing.

  He starts to slide his hand up and I forget how to breathe as his hand nears my breasts. The way his skin drags across my skin is creating all these amazing tingling sensations again.

  He looks up at me and pushes his chin into my hand. I laugh. Guess I forgot to keep scratching.

  He purrs and tips his head back, and I’m so caught up in his reaction that I forget about his hand for a moment.

  That is until his hand moves quickly up to cover my breast.

  I gasp and he looks startled. He starts to withdraw his hand, but I quickly cover it with mine, pushing it back against me. “No, don’t stop touching me.”

  His expression cautious, he allows me to press his palm back to my breast but makes no move to move it.

  I squeeze my hand around his, causing his fingers to curl around my breast. “Kaak,” I say to show him that I like it.

  “Kaak?” he repeats as if he’s surprised.

  “Kaak,” I nearly moan as I arch my back, pressing my breast into his palm. “So kaak…” I try to say seriously, but end up giggling a little bit just because it sounds so silly.

  He grins and gives an experimental squeeze.

  “Kaak?” he asks, but this time I know he knows I like it. He just wants to hear me say it again.

  “Yes,” I gasp and my hand pushes on his hand, teaching him how to squeeze and work my breast just the way I like it.

  He quickly catches on to my rhythm. Squeezing and molding my breast in his big hand until I’m completely relaxed and enjoying it. Eyes drifting close, I start to tip my head back, and then my other breast is covered with warmth.

  I look down to see both his big hands covering my breasts now and working in tandem.

  “Ryock,” I moan, loving the constriction. Loving the way he’s so quickly figured out how to apply just the right amount pressure.

  My nipples tighten and tingle, sending a jolt straight to my sex each time his palm flattens them.

  “Izlah,” he purrs, drawing my attention back up to his face.

  His eyes are hooded and his gaze is intense.

  I open my mouth to tell him don’t stop. His touch makes me feel so good…

  When the floor beneath us suddenly shudders and the lights flicker above us.

  Wow. I know his touch is earthmoving, but damn…

  Ryock does the thing I was just about to tell him not to do. His hands stop squeezing me and his eyes widen with alarm.

  “What was that?” I ask, not liking that look of alarm on his face one bit.

  There’s another shudder and the roof seems to creak. Long, hair-like cracks appear in the glass walls surrounding us.

  The lights flicker and I look up, urging them not to go out.

  Everything goes dark.

  “Shit.”

  I blink my eyes, willing them to work in the dark, but everything around me is pitch black.

  “Ryock?” I say into the dark.

  “Izlah,” his deep, rumbling voice answers back.

  I feel his hands drop from my breasts and he pulls me closer, cradling me against his chest. There’s tension in the way he holds me, a stiffness that tells me he might be just as worried as I am.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, hoping beyond hope he can suddenly understand me and give me an answer back.

  There’s a sudden crack and Ryock’s hold around me tightens.

  “Please tell me that’s not the glass…”

  There’s another loud crack and I instantly recognize the sound. Shit! It’s Gararl. I guess he’s decided to take advantage of the situation.

  Ryock’s chest begins to rumble with a hair-raising growl and I squeeze closer, wishing I could somehow crawl my way inside him.

  There’s another loud crack followed by the tinkling sound of the glass shattering and falling to the floor.

  Ryock breaks my hold and I cry out as he shoves me behind him.

  Scrambling back, I sense Ryock standing, his huge body looming over me in the darkness. I can hear glass crunching under something, I’m assuming feet, and then there’s an impact. The air whooshes at me and Ryock stumbles back until his heels are touching my feet.

  I scramble back even more, pushing myself into the corner, trying to make myself small.

  Ryock lets out a deafening roar and then something slams to the floor. Gararl whines, that same awful, high-pitched whine he gave when the bugs forced him off me, and I can’t keep up with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and bone crushing bone.

  In the dark, unable to see, it sounds as if the fight goes on for an eternity.

  Especially when Ryock starts to grunt and something repeatedly slams into the floor.

  I flinch, hoping it’s him doing the slamming and not Gararl.

  Ryock gives one last grunt and then the only sound left is the sound of someone panting for air.

  Pulling my knees up, I hug them close to my chest and pray with a
ll my heart that it’s Ryock still standing, catching his breath.

  But if it’s not, I have no clue how I can help him…

  The lights begin to flicker. Dim at first, then burst on with a surge. I rub at my eyes, trying to bring everything back into focus.

  The first thing I see is Ryock still standing with his back to me, his shoulders slumped forward.

  With a cry, I jump to my feet and rush over to him.

  “No,” he says firmly, turning to face me before I reach him. “No, Izlah.”

  I dig in my heels and come to an abrupt stop.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” My eyes roam over him.

  He’s covered head to toe in what appears to be a black, gooey liquid. It’s splattered across his face, his chest, his waist, and dripping from his hands. But otherwise he seems to be unharmed.

  Ryock continues to huff and pant and I follow the drops of black goo dripping from his hands to the floor.

  There’s a puddle of the stuff growing and spreading around his feet. The surface of the puddle is smooth and dark, reflecting the lights beaming down from above.

  Then the puddle ripples, disturbed by vibrations.

  The floor begins to rumble beneath my feet and then it sounds like a herd of elephants is running down the hall.

  I look up at Ryock in alarm and he takes one step towards me, but before he can reach me the door to our cage whooshes open.

  “Stop right fucking there,” a stranger says.

  I hate to admit it, but it takes me a long second to realize I can understand him.

  Ryock spins around to face the door with a growl.

  “One fucking move and you’ll be joining your buddy on the floor.”

  I know it would probably be the smarter move to hang back and let Ryock deal with the newcomer, but my damn curiosity is getting the best of me.

  I take a couple steps to the side and peek around Ryock.

  My eyes go wide and I gasp in surprise.

  There’s a dark-haired man standing in the doorway who looks human! And… he’s aiming a gun at Ryock…

  The guy’s big blue eyes meet mine and he jerks back in surprise before he composes himself and smiles.

  “Isla?” he asks, his gaze roaming all over me.

  I frown at him and cross my arms over my chest. The way he’s looking at me is reminding me that I’m naked.