But when I did not move to come to her, she adjusted, spreading her thighs apart for a better view of the flower there. “I want to watch you,” I said quietly, my voice filling the air between us. “I will come to you when I see you glisten with your desire.”
A pretty little blush rose into her cheeks and she stood up so that she could lie on her back, her legs spread wide so I could see all of her wet center. She pressed her middle finger to the pith, the kernel of her desire, and began to rub. With her other hand, she squeezed her breast, pinching her sweet, pink nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Her breathing quickened; her eyes came to a close. My member grew uncomfortably hard in the confines of the trousers with which I had been provided.
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I could no longer stand the distance still between us. Shedding the constrictive garments with which I had been provided, I closed the gap, my cock in my fist. I mounted her then, her eyes popping open as she felt me draw near, and I plunged myself deeply into her with one strong thrust. She sucked in a gasp of air and arched her back so that her breasts were pressed against me, making room between her body and the cushion so that I could slide my arm around her and hold her to me as I undulated my hips.
As ever, I was shocked to find her so wet for me, this perfect, lovely creature. And me, what a monster I must seem to her, with my warrior’s scales down one arm, and the stunted, jagged edge of my lost horn. But oh, how she wanted me. How she spread herself wide for me.
I leaned forward and buried myself in her hair, which smelled sweetly of the still water pools of my planet. I breathed in the scent of her, earthy and warm, like dried flowers in the starlight, and buried my shaft in her warm and wanting sheath. “Harder,” she groaned, and I obliged, gripping her fleshy hip with one hand, my fingers digging in as I hastened my pace. Every other time between us, I had held back, conscious of the differences in our size, of the fact that she was, perhaps, not made of such solid stuff as I.
But maybe what Ro Petathera had said to me was somewhere in the back of my mind: she was stronger than I gave her credit for, and when she called out for me to fuck her with abandon, who was I to deny her wishes?
She cried out and slid her arms around my neck, hanging tightly onto me as I thrust into her, and I knew she was about to release when her body tensed against mine, when she held her breath, and when she spread her legs wider to allow me to go even deeper into her. Then, with a shudder, I felt the muscles of her internal walls clamp down around my rod, and I could no longer keep my own climax at bay. I let out a cry that must have, to her ears, sounded like the wail of a great beast, and released into her in a series of trembling gasps.
I stayed there for a long, languid moment, my member softening inside of her as we breathed in time together. I thought of the baby growing between us, and climbed off of her, watching with great satisfaction as the evidence of our lovemaking dripped down her thighs. “Come, sweet lady,” I murmured, holding a hand out to her. “We must sleep.”
She took my hand and I helped her to her feet, but when I headed toward the bedroom, she stopped me in my tracks. “Let’s just sleep here,” she said and dropped down to her knees on the plush white carpeting.
“On the floor?” I asked, surprised.
“I think I’ve gotten used to it now,” she muttered, and I couldn’t help but smile. I lay down beside her and encircled her in my arms, until we were nestled together with the back of her pressed against the front of me.
When our breathing had slowed and I thought she’d finally drifted off, I heard her voice, small and quiet: “Odrik,” she all but whispered, “are you afraid?”
“No,” I said after a moment or two, “I’m not. I know I shall be victorious.”
CHAPTER 20: NOVALYN
I was pleased to find that Odrik slept soundly through the night and woke rested and resigned. For my part, however, I tossed and turned, tried not to wake him, and finally got up feeling bleary and sad, frightened and anxious.
I showered in the elaborate marble bath and dressed quickly. Odrik donned the leathers he’d arrived in and splashed cool water on his face. We met the parties in the shuttle bay and were taken to the surface of the planet, Odrik and myself — along with the ambassadors — in one shuttle, Fegar and the Mafarens in the other.
It was a quick jaunt, though I squeezed my eyes shut so as not to vomit bile over the people traveling with me, and we landed smoothly on the surface of the planet, some several meters away from the town’s center. We marched solemnly toward the spire, a collection of the town’s inhabitants gathering to watch the goings-on, human women and Qeteshi men alike.
The morning was bright and clear, and I was looking at the town through a new pair of eyes, not unlike when I was apartment hunting in New York City. But instead of asking, Is there laundry in the building? I was wondering if there was a farm nearby; instead of inquiring as to whether or not gas and electricity were included, I wanted to know if there was any crime in this village; instead of wondering if the building had ever had bedbugs, I considered whether or not this town had been ravaged by any wild beasts in the recent past.
The town itself wasn’t much to look at, with the exception of the spire. But I could see potential in it: I could see how the men had taken to building more permanent structures instead of the lean-tos that occupied the outer circles of the village. But there was a certain antiquarian charm to it, like going to a Renaissance faire where everything was open-air and smelled of roasting meat and fresh flowers.
I saw one human woman, taller than me but about my age, who was wearing a gown of considerably more substantive stuff than the gossamer dresses with which we’d been provided when we arrived. It was red and orange, perfunctory but elegant. She had beads around her throat, and her hair was piled high and held up with polished sticks with stones set in the ends, and I saw how quickly she had adapted to her new role. She looked strong and proud, perhaps a little sunburned, but she watched with curiosity, a laundry basket balanced between her hand and her hip. Her mate joined her, tall and broad-chested with skin the color of polished silver, and abdominal muscles chiseled out of marble. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and peered over the heads of the others gathering around in the square, murmuring something to her, to which she nodded her head. Could that be us, Odrik and me?
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mireena’s voice cut through the crowd, with Tymer’s translating sentence by sentence into Qeteshi for those who were unmated or had neglected to locate their in-ear devices. “We have a most important matter to settle this morning.”
Fegar’s mate was brought forward by Yorn: he gripped the chain attached to a collar around her neck. Though she had put her gown back on, thin and wispy as cheesecloth, she did drop to her knees to assume her naturally submissive position. I wondered what would happen to her when Fegar died.
If. If Fegar died.
“In the matter of your Chieftain, Fegar Gael, and his quarrel with your former leader, Odrik Nuh’ar, the Echelon has determined that the matter shall be settled in single combat. Fegar Gael was given a choice of weaponry, and chose staves.” She paused, dropping her eyes to her son so that he might catch up in translation. “It is not the Echelon’s business to settle matters of state for independent colonies. However, we are making an exception due to the transitional nature of this culture.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of Mireena, so proud was she in her form-fitting pant suit and low-cut blazer. She was truly a force to be reckoned with: I wondered if one day her son might not follow in her footsteps.
“None shall interfere in the proceedings here today,” she continued, her hands clasped in front of her. “And the outcome of the fight shall not be questioned by any Qeteshi man, or human woman.” Mireena’s eyes scanned the crowd, some three or four dozen souls who had gathered in the square to watch.
“Bring forward the combatants,” Mireena said, and Fegar and Odrik st
epped forward. Ro Petathera handed a staff to Odrik; Rebecca handed one to Fegar. I watched Odrik weigh the weapon in his hands, tossing it gingerly from one hand to the other to get a feel for it. It was probably five feet in length, and wide enough to fit easily in Odrik’s fist. And it gleamed like onyx in the morning light.
“Gentlemen,” Mireena said, glancing between them, “have you any questions before we begin?” They both shook their heads, their dark eyes trained on one another. Odrik had tied his black hair back into a ponytail, but Fegar’s was flowing free, his beard twisted into a braid. They snarled at each other, baring their teeth: it would be a bloody bout. “Very well. Begin!”
Mireena stepped out of the way and joined the crowd, which was silent at first as the two of them began to circle one another. But they erupted into cheers and shouts when Fegar landed the first blow, directly to Odrik’s neck with the end of the staff. Odrik backpedaled, putting some distance between them, but the crowd was beginning to roil, shifting, moving, throwing their fists into the air as they fell into separate camps, some clearly on Fegar’s side, some clearly on Odrik’s. The masses moved forward, and I got pushed toward the back, not large enough to fight my way through.
My line of sight was obscured entirely, and I began to panic when I could no longer see Odrik, when I was sure that he could no longer see me. He needed to see me; he needed to know what he was fighting for. If he couldn’t see me, what if he just gave up? What if he started to think I had just turned away, uncaring?
I scuttled around the edges of the throngs until I found a gap into which I could slip. I heard someone landing blows, the loud grunts that accompanied the thwack of a staff hitting hard flesh, the ringing of dark wood making contact with dark wood. It was unbearable: what if he died, and I was not there to see it?
Surprised by even my own tenacity, I pushed through the crowd and shouldered my way to the front again, refusing to allow the movement of the group to determine my own movement. Fegar had landed some harsh blows to Odrik, who had one eye that was nearly swollen shut. But Odrik had, likewise, done his own damage: Fegar was limping due to a blow that would no doubt begin to blossom into bruising at any moment, but he was also bleeding from the mouth something terrible. Odrik spun, graceful as a music box ballerina, until his staff made contact with Fegar’s nose. A number of us onlookers gasped to hear the sound of the bone snapping as it broke, and I felt perhaps slightly woozy at the sudden gush of blood that accompanied the wound.
Fegar stumbled back and spat blood onto the packed dirt ground beneath his feet. The pain had spurred something in him, and he became a berserker. His bloodied mouth was open and crying, his staff raised high over his head as he shot forward, wildly swinging at Odrik. For his part, Odrik managed to dodge out of the way of the first few swings, but the third made contact with the side of his head, and the fourth, and the fifth, until he dropped to the earth like a bird shot dead in the sky.
I cried out and dropped down to my knees so that I could put my eyes in line with his eyes. Fegar had moved around him, no doubt to ascertain the best angle to deliver the killing blow. But in that gentle moment of reprieve, I whispered to him, Get up, Odrik. Get up and fight for us.
He never could have heard me over the roar of a crowd going mad for bloodlust. And I don’t think he could have read my lips, either, considering I was still speaking in a language he did not understand. But my meaning had translated even still, because as Fegar came around to stand in front of Odrik, Odrik — in one swift and sudden movement — swept Fegar’s feet out from under him.
The villain clattered to the earth in a rattle of scales, and the crowd cheered as the air was knocked from his lungs. Odrik rose slowly and climbed atop his enemy, bringing his staff around so that it was pressed against Fegar’s neck. Then, he simply lifted the staff toward him, and Fegar began to claw at it, desperate for air. And while he was larger than Odrik, he somehow could not throw him off.
Odrik, with all his might, snapped the staff back and broke Fegar’s neck in the process. Fegar went entirely limp, and the throngs of people cheered and began to chant Odrik’s name, accepting him immediately as their new leader.
Panting, Odrik dropped the staff into the dirt and bent over Fegar’s corpse, taking one of his horns in his hand. Then, using a strength I had only just barely glimpsed, he cracked the horn and ripped it from Fegar’s head.
“A debt repaid,” he shouted, and held the horn high in the air. The gathering went wild, cheering, jumping up and down. Even the women, who perhaps had never heard the tale of Odrik’s humiliation at Fegar’s hands, were cheering. Perhaps they had seen how Fegar had treated his mate and had determined that he was not fit to lead their people.
There were two solemn faces in the crowd: Yorn and Fegar’s mate, both of whom had tears standing in their glassy eyes. I was watching them, and I didn’t see Odrik stumble and collapse to the ground next to the man he had just killed. I didn’t see him, in fact, until the crowd started to push past me so that they could gather up their fallen hero.
“Odrik!” I shouted as I saw him being raised over their heads. “Odrik, wake up!” But they were carrying him off and I did not know where they were taking him.
I darted over to Mireena and Tymer. “Please,” I panted, “you have to help him.”
But Mireena shook her head and gave me a sad sort of smile. “My dear,” she said, “we have interfered far too much in the business of this planet.”
They turned on their heels then and, along with Rebecca and Ro, began to head back toward the shuttles.
“That’s it?” I demanded, aghast. “You’re just going to leave?”
“You are welcome to leave with us,” Mireena said coolly without turning around, “but I doubt very much that is the choice you will make.”
Ro and Rebecca paused to embrace me, to wish me luck, but I just stammered a lame farewell, dumbstruck by the possibility that I was to be left on Qetesh, and that Odrik might die without their medical care.
Tymer turned around and jogged back to me, peering down into my face. “Send another distress signal,” he said, placing his hands on my ribcage, altogether too close to my breasts for comfort, “should the worst happen. I will come back for you, if you ask me to.” He hesitated a moment, and I stared, puzzled, into his cold blue eyes before he bent forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “I wanted you to choose me, Novalyn Bryce,” he said, dropping his hands. “I’m sorry for… making such a mess of everything.”
Before I could respond, he rushed to join his mother, and I was left to stand there, stunned, in the dust. But I could waste no time in my shock. I had to find Odrik; I had to do what I could to help him. I turned around and saw Yorn and Fegar’s mate, kneeling over his lifeless body, and sprang forward, darting past them in the direction the crowd had gone, carrying Odrik high over their heads.
I found a gathering around one of the houses, and they had laid him on a mound of furs in the center of the room and had set about lighting the fire and burning scented candles that made the room smell of sage.
I went to him and sat at his side as one of the other Qeteshi men bandaged his head and tended his wounds. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he had some cuts and scrapes on his neck, but it was his head that was most horribly wounded. The blood was already seeping through one of the bandages.
“Will he live?” I asked, and the man tending to him shook his head.
“I do not understand you,” he said in Qeteshi.
Once they stemmed the bleeding, the crowd thinned out and vanished, and I understood that it was now just a matter of time. There was nothing to do but to wait and see.
I lay down next to Odrik and kept my eyes focused on his chest as it rose and fell with each breath. I held his hand in mine and willed him to live, begged and pleaded with any god that might oversee the Qeteshi people to send Odrik back to me. We were going to be a family, and that family simply wouldn’t work without him.
Eventually I fell asleep next to him, rousing every few hours to change his bandages and wet his dry, chapped lips. I stopped eating. I refused to leave his side for anything other than to relieve myself. I rested my head against his shoulder and put his hand on my belly and whispered names to him, names we could name our child if he would only come back to me.
I do not know how long we went on that way, and I may have just lain down and died there if a collection of Qeteshi men and their human mates had not come to see me. I recognized one of them, a woman, in a red-and-orange dress. She had been the one I’d seen just before the fight, and the one I’d seen days earlier on the road to the town. She had looked happy with her mate then, but she looked concerned now.
“Ms. Bryce…?” she said tentatively, stepping into the dim light of what had become my little house. Ours. Our little house. I lifted my head from where it rested near Odrik’s and squinted my eyes. Six or seven of them had arrived, carrying bowls full of food and water.
“We are here to help,” the woman went on and advanced into the house. She set a bowl of fruit at my feet, and I sat up on the furs.
“Thank you,” I murmured, out of instinct more than actual gratitude.
“And to express some concern,” she went on, as the other people with her placed their bowls on the floor. “Ever since Fegar was defeated, we have not had any leadership in our village. We do not wish for it to fall into chaos.”
I nodded my head. “I understand. Who is in charge now?” I asked.
“Well,” she went on, almost shyly. “You.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “You must be joking,” I said. “How can that be?”
“You are Odrik’s mate, are you not?” she asked, and I bobbed my head in a nod. “And you carry his heir.” Gosh, but news travels fast. “Then until such time as Odrik wakes, or your child comes of age and you abdicate, you are — according to Taryn — the acting Chieftain.”
Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 36