by Aubrey Cara
Now I’m actually glad for the big jerk’s company. I pick up my step and clutch my new umbrella tighter. I glance up at my sunshade made from cured leather, and then frown at Bo’hob’s back. He made me this umbrella while I was eating breakfast. I’m not sure what happened to my last one. I don’t miss it but hope it was given a proper burial. And I can’t help thinking this new one comes with ulterior motives.
The dude has been tripping over himself to make me comfortable. He went and got water from the fountains so I could bathe in private and has been asking me every five minutes if there’s anything I need, and if I’m comfortable.
There’s something about Bo’hob’s solicitous nature with me I don’t trust. Especially since he frowned every time my gaze strayed to the hallway Oathar’s room is off of. I wanted to go check on my Beast Boy. Maybe smack him and tell him off for being a tyrannical asshole.
The only thing stopping me was Bo’hob, and my own pride.
I’m not going to let either of the guys see how upset the prospect of getting sent away to the Monrok makes me. Maybe I should just go and hope I find Bri and Brook along the way, but something tells me it’s better to stay with the alien you know. That Lyhnx guy did not seem like he was looking for a consenting bed partner in his life.
I fight the desire to blow a raspberry at Bo’hob’s back. Talk about straying from the alien you know. I didn’t think I’d ever miss Niin, but at least I knew where I stood with him. Bo’hob, not so much. He tells Oathar he needs to stay away from me but has been up my butt ever since the Yon Tor ejected me from his room.
If not for all of the villagers coming out to gawk at us, I’d ditch Dr. Bob in a heartbeat. The guy’s attentiveness is getting a bit suffocating, but for now, I’m keeping him within arm’s reach.
Everyone in the village is leaving me be, but who knows if that would be the case on my own. I have a feeling more than a few nasty hishasm slurs would be thrown my way.
I’m stuck again by how quiet it is here. The village is packed with homes, but I wonder how long it’s been since the homes have been packed with Alogorians. I’m totally beginning to understand why Oathar is worried about the future of his people.
The gates Bo’hob was talking about are on the opposite side of the village from where we were. By the time we get there, my thighs are burning and my newly healed feet are sore. Who knew alien abduction would involve so much walking?
We come out the other side of the large purple-planked doors, and I come to a dead stop.
Whatever I was expecting to see here in the desert, this isn’t it. It’s a fairyland orchard spread out over rolling hills. There are rows of dark-pink leafed ashwana trees, their trunks and branches a muted dark purple. The fuchsia, pink, and lavender blades of grass are so long in some places they folds over to lie on the ground. A breeze ruffles my hair, and I breathe in that wondrous sweet grass smell and realize it’s coming from these trees.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to run up the path and fling my arms wide while singing a rendition of “The Sound of Music.”
My eyes land on Bo’hob’s, and I’m hit with a pang that dulls my happiness. I wish it were Oathar here. I hate that I’m thinking about him right now. Or that I’m letting him ruin this for me. But then my traitorous mind runs through the fantasy of what it would be like if he was the one showing me this place. I bet his eyes would light up with pride the way they do each time he looks out at his world.
Bo’hob glances over his shoulder and stops halfway up the path. “Are you coming, Bombee? Do you need me to carry you?” There is a gleam in his eye that says he’d enjoy it if I said yes. It puts my teeth on edge.
“I’m coming.” I get my feet moving and trek up the path. “Tell, me how does this all exist in the desert?” I ask falling in step next to Bo’hob.
“We’re on the outskirts of the desert. Very close to the forest and lakes of Gyhania. We have natural springs here that help with crop irrigation but share some water sources with the Gyhan.”
“Yeah, I hear the Gyhan do a lot of sharing.” Water. Wombs…
“You don’t like the Gyhan?” If Bo’hob had eyebrows, his would be up. Alogorians have very expressive faces. In a way, even more so than humans. I don’t think they’ve learned the concept of poker face.
I shrug. “I’m sure they’re fine.” I don’t even know them and have no idea why the thought of Gyhans irritates me, but it does. I know I’m being prejudiced about a group I really know nothing about, but I don’t like that they just give up their babies. And if they wouldn’t be so stingy with their uterus cycle, maybe I wouldn’t have been brought here to play don’t drop the egg with Oathar’s progeny.
I hate that just thought of Beast Boy makes my pulse thud heavy in my veins and heart pinch with longing. I want to kick something. How dare he bring me here, plant his kids in my belly, and abandon me to Dr. Bob?
“You are frowning again, Bombee.” Bo’hob is staring down at me as if trying to decipher a puzzle. “I thought bringing you to this place would please you.”
His words, though innocent, set off alarm bells in my head. Why does this guy want to please me?
I open my mouth to ask him just that, and the words freeze on my lips. We’re now in the orchard, surrounded by trees. This close, I can make out the exact details of the pink blooms flowering between the darker leaves.
They look like vaginas.
Heavy labia-laden vaginas.
And, at the top of each bloom, right in the hood, rests a big rosy ripe berry.
Mother of goodness, it’s a vagina tree full of clit berries.
Bo’hob follows my gaze. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” He mistakes my shock for awe and pulls down a bud. He inhales deep, and his long tongue flicks out to wrap around the fruit, sucking it into his mouth.
I gasp. “That’s inappropriate.”
He frowns, cocking his head in question. “I do not understand.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” I hiss.
“Here.” He hold out a clit berry-laden bloom. “You can taste one, but no more than that. I don’t think it is healthy for your human system.”
I narrow my eyes on him, trying to decipher if he’s playing dumb or really doesn’t get how provocative the blooms are. “I’m good.” I push the berry away and snatch the basket he’s carrying out of his hand. “Let’s just gather what we need and go.”
Bo’hob watches me with a thoughtful frown for a minute before he helps me pick clit berries off the vagina tree. Here, in the shade of the trees it’s a little cooler, and I put down my umbrella. I would love spending time out here if Dr. Bob wasn’t crowding me in.
More than once, his arm brushes against mine. Each time, I step a little farther away from him. A strand of my hair works free of the messy bun I have going on and plops down on my shoulder. Before I can react, Bo’hob brushes it back behind my ear, his fingers lingering as they trail down my neck.
What the actual hell?
I flick his hand away. “What are you doing?” Isn’t this the same guy who warned Oathar away from me just yesterday?
“Your beautiful skin is so soft. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“How ’bout you look, not touch. K?” Call it hormones, but I’m really not in the mood to be messed with. I’m tired and, after the long trek out here, I’m hangry. And I hate to admit it but I’m horny in a really uncomfortable, boobs are swollen, skin is itchy way. Again, I think it’s baby hormones, and I’m trying hard to ignore it.
“Perhaps you should get accustomed to my touch.”
I stiffen. A prickle of unease goes down my spine. “Why is that?”
“Everything in my studies indicate it’s easier to implant a human female if she is enjoying it. From your attachment to Oathar, and a mating that resulted in the implanting of not one but three healthy yhar, I would say that’s accurate.”
“Excuse me? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’
m already ‘implanted.’ No extra touch necessary.”
His lips pinch as if in thought, and he nods. “For now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I want you to be as comfortable with me as you are with our mighty Yon Tor.”
“Why?” He’s dancing around giving me a straight answer, and I find it annoying.
“For all that your species lack in technology, you are an intelligent being, Bombee.” There’s laughter dancing in his eyes as he says this.
Of all the condescending… “So, what? You think you’re getting me and my super uterus after I have Oathar’s babies? One, no. I’m not the Alogorian baby factory.” I motion down my body. “This facility is closing indefinitely in about nine months.”
“That is not up to you.”
“I’m not sure if you heard, but Oathar is sending me to the Monrok. So I don’t think it’s up to you, either.”
“He is upset. Many things weigh on him. He will see reason. Look around you.” He spreads his arms wide. “These are considered trees of life-bearing fruit. Legend has it the blooms were designed by Umph Kaka herself, to represent her beautiful life-giving orifice.”
“Oh Mother of Goodness, they really are vagina trees.”
His eyes light up. “Yes, they are replicas of your pah-china.”
“I knew you were being inappropriate,” I say, pointing at him in accusation.
He ignores this. “You are meant to be the carrier of life here, Bombee. Accept this.”
Horror sweeps through me. “Like, for the whole village?” I was joking about the whole Alogorian baby factory thing, but what the frick? I can see the porn title now. Bambi does Lehor.
No cool. So not cool.
His face scrunches in distaste. “Not the village. For Oathar and me. He always planned to share his carrier with me. Then we may gift you to Jhyr, if he does not care to wait for our Gyhan breeding cycle. Or possibly Niin.”
“Niin?” I chuck my basket at him.
He quickly raises his arm as a shield, and the clit berries fly in all directions and thud to the ground.
He looks at me askance, like I’m being the irrational one. “We were supposed to get three humans. But I see now you are enough human for all of us.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Oh, how wonderful for me. “No. Nope. No.” I do not want to be enough woman for four egg-launching aliens. Not today.
I toss my hands up and stalk back to the village. The giant Alogorian healer falls into step next to me. I speed up, but his legs are so long, he barely has to increase his stride to keep up.
“Do you know where you are going?” he inquires.
“Yes.” Not at all, but I’m not about to give him the satisfaction. I will wander the village all day if that’s what it takes to find where his place is.
“Would you like your sun cover?” He holds up the umbrella I left behind. It’s midday, and my shoulders are already beginning to crisp under two blazing suns. “Yes.” This time it comes out more hiss as I snatch it from him.
“You are a spirited female. I can tell why Oathar has grown an unnatural attachment to you.” I growl at him, and he chuckles in reply. “I’m going to enjoy planting my yhar in you, Bombee.”
Like hell. “My body, my choice.” Some women’s lib is coming to Lehor. They’re going to learn some shit about me. Oathar lived through the huzah attack so I could kill him.
This time, as I hoof it past the villagers, I smile and wave as if I’m in a parade. “Hi, I’m the Yon Tor’s new bent cabbage,” I say as way of greeting as I pass. “Hi. I’m Bambi, but you can call me Bombee.”
If my over-bright smile is more a showing of gritted teeth, oh wells. Some of the Alogorians eyes get large in wonder. Whether it’s from never seeing a human or being waved at, I’m not sure. Frankly, I don’t care. The Yon Tor’s new bent cabbage yhar holder is in the hiz-ouse.
Bo’hob keeps giving me sideways glances but says nothing. I have no idea where I’m going as I weave along what I assume is the main road, so it’s with some dumb luck I find myself in front of Dr. Bob’s place. Or, at least I’m pretty sure it’s his place. The big purple desert sleigh is still parked out front. And I could have sworn it was there when we left.
I’m halfway to the doorway when something scuttles past my toes.
Shrieking would be the kinder, gentler term from the death scream that tears from my throat.
Before I know it, I’m cradled high in Bo’hob’s arms. My own have instinctively wrapped around his neck. From the corner of my eye, I see a scorpzilla scurry under the desert wagon.
“If I am not mistaken, that is your favorite.” Bo’hob chuckles. “You shouldn’t fear your food, Bombee. How will you kill it?”
Me, kill it?
I’m about to tell Dr. Feel Me Up to put me down when a loin-cloth-clad Oathar appears in the doorway. My heart kicks up like a hummingbird’s wings.
His color is much better. That’s the first thing I think, instead of all the angry things I should be thinking. Dammit. The second thing I think is how mouth wateringly appealing he is in a loincloth. He has the deep V going on that tapers down to his groin and makes a girl want to lick down his chiseled abs to happier places.
And, oh shit, the loincloth just became a canopy.
He takes in the sight of me and Bo’hob, his features growing hard. His hands fist. His eyes dart from my face to Bo’hobs, and he snarls.
I’ve never had a man that angry with me while still sporting an erection. My nipples tighten, and I squeeze my thighs together at the same time irrational panic seizes me. Something in my brain flips the guilt switch like I’m being caught in a compromising position by my boyfriend. I try to fight it off, and calm.
He’s not my boyfriend. He’s the guy who bought me, seduced me with spankings and his three-speed vibrating joystick, and now plans to pass me on to God knows who.
Let him be upset! After everything he’s put me through, he deserves it.
I relax my hold on Dr. Bob and rest my head on his shoulder, playing my fingers over his chest. All while staring at Oathar.
“What’s the matter, big guy? Angry your buddy doesn’t want to wait his turn?”
I try not to smirk when Oathar’s features grow even more taut, his left eye ticking. Yeah, take that and stick it in your egg-launcher.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Elder’s Wisdom
To grow attachments is unwise
And can cause needless discord.
OATHAR
My heart is still racing with my need to protect my bhnt ky’ab yhar. When I heard a scream, I knew with every fiber of my being it was my Bombee. A type of terror I have never known gripped me.
Seeing her in Bo’hob’s arms causes an entirely different sensation to burn through me. A growl rattles my chest. My vision hazes down to Bo’hob with my female in his arms.
“What’s the matter, big guy? Angry your buddy doesn’t want to wait his turn?”
I’m unsure what she means by this. It’s not unheard of for another Alogorian to help fertilize yhar during gestation, but only if the male is not capable. I am capable. More than capable. Just being in her vicinity once again causes my root swell and make a mockery of the flimsy loincloth I wear. It is her scent. It’s on the breeze and all around me. I have stayed away from her, and her pheromones, but I still crave her whether near or far. I sniff the air, trying to ascertain if Bo’hob stuck his root where it does not belong. I will kill him before I let him mate her.
“What have you been doing with my bhnt ky’ab yhar while I lay healing?” My voice is no more than a snarl, my usual clear-headed reason burnt away by rage.
Bo’hobs standard amused expression falls, his brows pulling low.
In my anger, it takes me a moment to notice the calculating cut of Bombee’s eyes as she looks at me while draping herself over my friend. She plays a game with me, I realize. One I am not willing to play.
�
�You rather rut with Bo’hob, female? Tell me now, so I may wash my hands of you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Bombee’s face is bright-red with anger as she scrambles out of Bo’hobs arms. “I’m not even pregnant a week, and you’re ready to pass me on. But that was always the plan, right? Knock up the Earther, whether she likes it or not, and then let all your friends do the same.”
My chest aches with the anguish in her voice. I never meant to hurt her this way. “I was doing what I must for Lehor.” The excuse is growing weak, even to my own ears.
“And, now?”
I condemned the Zapex for their treatment of humans while justifying buying Bombee as an altruistic endeavor. But taking humans against their will and forcing them into a culture they rebel against would make us no better than the Zapex. Population growth or not, it would be a tarnish on Lehor. We would still be seen as slavers.
It has been a moon cycle of great realizations and questionable choices. As Yon Tor, I am the only one who can rectify the wrongs I have done. My father was wrong, but I wanted to honor him, and by doing so, I believe I may have allowed myself to be led astray.
I pull myself up to my full height, knowing what I’m about to say goes against everything I thought I wanted. “Now, it is not that simple. Plans change.”
Bo’hobs frown deepens. “What is going on, Oathar? What are you saying?”
I gaze at my beautiful female, her chest heaving and delicate hands fisted for battle. She has killed a huzah. She is as wild and untamed as the Alogorian desert. “Bombee is mine while she carries my ling, but then she…she may go wherever she wishes. Or she may stay. With me.”
Bombee’s gaze jerks to mine. I hope she did not miss the invitation in my words. I want her to stay with me. And I want it to be her choice.
“Are you breaking trust for a female?” Bo’hobs words are low, meant only for my ears.
Something in my chest clenches tight. “Yes.” I am breaking trust. For the female. My female. I hated waking up and not knowing where she was. I hated even more it was my pride that made me send her away.