“I didn’t agree to help the other girls,” he said. “I’m only interested in helping you.”
“But, Odrik — ”
“I don’t care about anyone but you, do you understand?” he snapped, silencing me completely. I stared at him, frozen in place, but he wouldn’t look at me. Finally, I moved as quickly through the water as I could until I reached his side, lifting a hand to his cheek to gently turn him toward me. He was stiff as a statue as I leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek. It was meant to be a soothing gesture, but I think it betrayed how badly I wanted him, how much I missed the nearness of him.
“I care about you, too, Odrik,” I murmured. And he curled his fingers around my wrist and lowered my hand away from his face.
“But not enough to stay with me.” I was startled by his raw vulnerability, startled by how close he’d come to simply asking me to stay. “It doesn’t matter,” he said before I’d had the chance to say anything in response. “Let’s get going.”
He moved away from me and climbed up onto shore, and I watched the rivulets of water run down the sinews of his body, like a million tiny little intersections. His skin looked almost golden in the daylight, and the scales down his left arm shimmered as the water ran over them. He was a stunning creature; my desire pulsed between my thighs as he turned to face me, his cock engorged if not fully erect. I swallowed hard and looked away, moving slowly through the pond until I reached the bank. I didn’t want to dress in the dirty tunic, so I rifled through our overstuffed pack, producing the gossamer gown we’d found in the pod. I tugged it on and let it flutter around my feet as I fastened Odrik’s beaded belt just below my breasts. My nipples were pert and prominent, easily visible beneath the flimsy fabric of my gown. Yes, the black linen tunic was dirty, but I knew why I had put on the gown instead: I wanted him to want me. I wanted to see that look of hunger in his eyes again, and I thought, maybe…
“Climb on,” he said, without sparing me a second glance, and I suppressed a sigh, sweeping my dark curls high onto my head before I climbed once more onto his back.
“Odrik,” I quietly began, “do you think — ”
“I will be climbing a rather steep incline for the next league or so,” he growled, “and would prefer not to exert any more energy than is absolutely necessary.” This was his polite, indirect way of telling me to shut up and let him carry me across a small mountain.
And so I did, my legs wrapped around his torso so that the quill of his spine pressed between my thighs. We moved in silence together, and I squinted my eyes against the early daylight, trying as best I could to enjoy the strange and beautiful scenery of this lush and foreign land. But I couldn’t — to me, nothing compared to Odrik’s own strange beauty.
I wondered what his home planet looked like, wondered if his people were used to the extreme temperatures of day and night or if they had simply been forced to adapt. I wondered how far away it had been, what the journey had been like for those who made it. I wondered how far I was from home.
I rested my head against him, pressing my cheek to the back of his neck, and let the world go by. I saw a small patch of bushes with the bending, greedy heads of carnivorous flowers, red and pink and yellow to attract the large, buzzing insects into their hungry little jaws. I saw another still pond and wanted only to dive into it with Odrik and feel his wet skin against mine.
The day was hot and we were weary when we paused to eat. He practically dumped me onto the dirt like a sack of potatoes before dropping down onto the ground himself. “Are you all right?” I asked, but he was panting, and he waved me off so he could catch his breath.
“I’d like to wait,” he breathed, “for a time. Let the hottest part of day pass and go into the village as the light begins to fade.”
“Sure,” I said, surveying the immediate surroundings. “Go in under the cover of night?”
He quirked a brow at me. “The winternight will freeze us.”
“Right.”
We were at a relatively high elevation, and I allowed my gaze to rove idly over the vast tracts of land behind us. The day was glistening and bright, and it felt somehow like we were the only two living creatures on the entire planet. There were no birds in the air above us, no beasts growling nearby. Just Odrik and me, and the grasping little teeth of the rimosha plants.
Odrik was sitting under a tree, drinking deeply from the skin he’d filled with water, and I sat down nearby, perched on a rock. I stretched my leg out in front of me, hoping to draw attention to my wounded extremity. Maybe then he’d offer to rub salve into my skin or bandage me up again. Something, anything to get him touching me.
No. No. Stop it, Novalyn.
There was something about him — pheromones, perhaps — that drew me inexplicably toward him at all times. I wanted him, like a hunger. I shook my head, trying to clear it of thoughts of him, naked, emerging from the waters of the still pond.
“Have we got anything to eat?” I asked, hugging my arms to my torso, ready to substitute one kind of hunger for another. Odrik canted his chin toward the pack.
“Plenty,” he said. “Have at it.”
The pack itself was constructed of more raw leather and heavy stitching, a satchel with an unsecured flap that lay over the top of the bulge of its contents. I opened it and rifled through: knives, furs, the tarp that became our tent each night, skins full of water, and finally one of the white plastic boxes from the pod. I opened it, and it was filled with berries. Another, with salt meat to cook over an open flame. I took the berries and moved slowly, hobbling just a little bit less than I had the day before, over to where he sat. I held out the open box to him and he hesitated a moment before reaching forward to fill his fist with berries and unceremoniously stuff them into his mouth.
“What type of fruit is this…?” I asked, plucking one out of the box and holding it gingerly between my thumb and index finger.
He answered in a word I did not recognize, a word that did not translate. The berries themselves were large and plump, the color of a strawberry, the shape of a blueberry, the size of a small fig. I popped one whole into my mouth and bit down: my taste buds were flooded with a tart sort of sweetness, kind of like a grape, but not as crunchy. I had found my new favorite fruit. “Mmm,” I hummed.
Odrik smiled. “You like them, then?”
“Very much.”
I took a seat on the rock nearby and cradled the box of berries in my lap. Odrik finished off the water in the skin and leaned back against the trunk of the small tree, which shook slightly when he moved against it. “My mother used to make pies from those fruits,” he mumbled. “In fact, that might be the only real memory I have of her.”
“How old were you when she died?” I asked, my tone low and quiet.
“Very small, just walking. She was one of the last remaining women in our tribe. That belt was hers,” he said again, but he was trailing a finger in the dirt, not looking at me.
“I know,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
“She had my coloring, I remember that. She sang to me, I remember that. And she made pies. That is the sum of all I can remember about my mother.” He smiled a rather sad sort of smile, and turned his dark eyes on me, the flecks of gold in his horns glinting in the broken shafts of light. “What about your mother?”
“I hardly remember my mother, too,” I murmured, peering down into the box of fruit instead of looking Odrik in the eye. “She was very young when she had me. My grandmother raised me.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “Mm. On her farm.”
“And your father?”
I shrugged. I didn’t often speak of my family, I guess because I had always been a little embarrassed by how easy it had been for them to leave me. “They were younger than me when they became parents.” I quirked a brow and peered at Odrik. “How old are you?” But then I gave a shake of my head. Chances were, a year on this planet wasn’t the same as a year on Earth.
“I am in my middle age,” he said. “The Qet divide our lives into sextants. Infancy, childhood, adolescence, young adult, adult, and elder. I am in the early fifth sextant.” He eyed me up and down, smiling faintly. “You, no doubt, are a young adult.”
“I suppose I am,” I said and popped another berry into my mouth before passing the box to Odrik.
“Will you go back to your grandmother’s farm when you return to your home planet?” he asked, sorting through the berries so he wouldn’t have to look me in the eye.
“No,” I said. “She passed away a while back.”
“So you’ve no family to speak of, then?” he asked, his expression one of pitiable sadness. I shook my head.
“No. None to speak of.”
“Then why do you insist on going back?” His tone was edged with an obvious desperation that made my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach. My jaw hung slack, I gaped at him: I didn’t have an answer. “Is there someone else?” he went on. “Another man?”
I softened, slumping slightly where I sat. “No, Odrik,” I murmured. “There is no one else.” I cradled my hands in my lap and dropped my gaze to the dirt beneath my feet, because that’s just about as low as I felt in that moment. Odrik pushed himself suddenly to standing, the tree he’d been leaning against rattling with the force of the propulsion.
“So, what is it, then?” he demanded. “Why are you so eager to leave me? Do I repulse you?”
“What?”
“Am I too strange, too… alien?” He was pacing back and forth in front of me, and I was reminded of his sheer size. I peered up at him, the sun glinting out just behind his head.
“No! No, that isn’t it at all.”
“Then what is it?” He gripped me by the shoulders and gave me a slight shake. I realized I was trembling under the force of his grip, for though I trusted him, I had known him an extremely short amount of time and wasn’t entirely certain of what he was capable. If I angered him enough, would he hurt me? Force himself on me?
No. I didn’t think he would. But I didn’t know for sure. I wrenched myself free and stood up, trying to make myself seem larger than my comparatively small stature. “I don’t know.” I said. “All I know is that this planet is strange and nasty and I want to go home.”
He seethed a moment longer before all the air seemed to go out of him. “Fine,” he breathed. “Fine. I’ll just go with you.” He nodded as though it had all been decided. “Yes, that’s the best solution. I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head, feeling the tears begin to pool in my eyes. “You can’t do that, Odrik,” I said, my voice cracking as I tried to keep myself under my own control.
“And why can’t I?”
“They’ll kill you,” I said, one sob wracking my entire body as I quickly wiped at my eyes with the heel of my hand. “They’ll see how different you are, and they’ll capture you, experiment on you, and kill you.” I shook my head frantically. “I can’t let that happen to you, I won’t. Please, please promise me you won’t try to come to Earth with me. Please. I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you, please — ” And I deflated into tears. I pressed my hands to my face and shuddered with the force of my weeping, and it wasn’t long before I felt his strong arms encircle me and pull me close. I buried my face in his chest and cried, even as he stroked my hair with his large, powerful hands.
I hadn’t realized how all of that emotion was just below the surface, or how quickly and forcefully it would come pouring out. In fact, I couldn’t recall a time in my life where I’d felt this strongly about anyone or anything. How could I possibly leave him?
“It’s all right, Nova, sweet Nova,” he hummed. “It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling away at last and looking up into his face. I had never seen him weep, but I could tell that his eyes were glassy with unshed tears of his own.
“It’s fine.” He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead before turning away from me to sling the pack over his shoulder. “Don’t fret, sweet lady,” he said and made himself smile. “Nothing will happen to me, and we’ll get you safely off planet and home again. All right?” But somehow that didn’t stem the flow of my tears, so all I could do was silently nod. “All right,” he continued, crouching down low. “Climb on.”
“It’s okay,” I stammered. “I can walk for a while.”
“No,” he said, his voice low. “I’d rather have you close.”
I grinned a lopsided sort of grin, though my cheeks were covered in saltwater, and climbed onto his back. He hoisted me high, and I wrapped one arm loosely about his neck, grateful to be once again so close to him.
“It should only be another hour’s walk,” he said, and we started off again in the direction of his village.
CHAPTER 12: ODRIK
So, she would leave me. Despite how I had unmanned myself, thrown myself upon her mercy and begged her to take me with her, still, she would leave me. I would have been embarrassed had she not betrayed her true feelings for me when she expressed concern over my continued survival, and I could draw some sliver of comfort from that.
Still, every step I took that drew us nearer to my village filled me with dread. Dread that our journey would be successful, that I would take her to the heart of the spacecraft that was at the center of our town and that she would successfully employ the communicators to hail a passing ship; and dread that we would not reach our goal, that we would be apprehended by Fegar. I knew he would kill me if given half a chance. I did not know if Novalyn would be granted that same courtesy. He was a brute, and I knew that I could not let her fall into his hands.
We reached the crest of another peak, and I pointed to the valley below. “There, do you see?” I asked, pointing. The spire that was the nose of the ship could be seen from this distance, as well as the buildings around it, expanding outward like a spiral.
“Is that it?” she asked, squinting her eyes against the glare of the waning starlight.
“Yes,” I confirmed and set off toward it. “That is it.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Qular, the capital city of Qetesh,” I answered, perhaps with more than a hint of pride. “We are the Qet, the men of Qetesh. Our priests are named for our capital city, for they not only oversee our rituals and spiritual guidance, but also city planning, and government.”
“So much for the separation of church and state,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She paused, peering over my shoulder at the city as we moved. “But this Fegar guy — he is not a Qulari priest.”
“No,” I confirmed. “He’s the leader and war chief. His second in command, however, is a Qulari priest. We have always needed our leaders not to be priests.”
“And why is that?”
“Balance. If the priests run everything else, it is vital that the Qet who wields the most power did not come up in the priesthood. There is rather a bit of indoctrination, as you might imagine.”
“Mm. And what about the women? Before, I mean. What was their role in your society?”
I furrowed my brow, trying to consider what she might have meant. “I do not understand — our women held positions, the same as the men. We have had female war chiefs, female priests. Our women were strong and tall, much larger than the likes of you Earth women. And they were spectacularly beautiful.”
“Were they, now?” she asked, and I wondered if I did not hear a slight twinge of jealousy. I could not help but grin.
“Oh, yes. Powerful limbs, long, lustrous hair, with skin that glimmered in the starlight and scales over their breasts. Beautiful creatures.” I lifted a hand to brush my fingertips over the arm that she had about my neck. “But not as beautiful as my lady Novalyn.”
I heard her audibly scoff, and chuckled quietly. “Right,” she said. “Sure.”
I was groggy from the restless night before, where I had wanted n
othing more than to press my body up against hers; I was agitated from the revelations of our hearts, where I had begged to stay with her and had been rebuked; I was dejected, pained by the very notion of her impending departure. And yet, even still, as we grew nearer and nearer to the village, my heart swelled. It was good to be home.
Qular wasn’t much to look at, though it was a cheerful little village. Festooned with colorful prayer flags that linked each stand of the marketplace, it had once been a bustling metropolis. But ever since our women had died out, a sort of gloom had descended over the place. Sure, the Qet took male lovers, but our women had brought life to the planet, and the village seemed sadly desolate now that they were gone. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, some of these Earth women would stay and imbue the place with some life again. The notion warmed me, even though I was certain Fegar would not let me stick around to see it.
I set my lady on the ground when we reached the outskirts of town. “Stay close, stay hidden,” I whispered to her. “I do not know if my former friends will turn on me and give me to Fegar, and we cannot expect that he will let us simply walk into the center of town.” She nodded her head in confirmation, and we began to creep through the small city that was the place of my birth.
When I was small, we had been building, hoping that our population would grow. But because all of our breeders had died off, the homes on the outskirts of town were abandoned, locked up, waiting, empty, for a family to occupy them. It was easy to move through these abandoned buildings, these vacant side streets. The layout of the city was supposed to be a simple one: the homes of warriors were to be on the outer reaches of the town, with priests and merchants, midwives and healers living in the more insular rings. Then, the marketplace with open-air stalls, and finally the spire, which was really just the ship that had brought my people here, in the center of all of it.
I wondered, as we moved silently around the small homes, then the marketplace stalls, if it looked anything like the city where Novalyn was from.
Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 30