by Rena Marks
I sigh, and it comes out loudly. Both guys look my way, but of course they can’t ask what’s wrong. And what’s wrong is I’ve come to a realization. I can never go back to Earth. Not with the way I’m altered now. My parents would never have me. And, truth is, I could never return to the way things were back then.
Pensive as I feel, my memories invade during the long walk. I was seventeen years old—and before my disastrous first date—when I came home from school to find four people at the dining room table. My parents had let the neighborhood bible thumpers into the house, mostly so all four could have heated debates over the meaning of the scriptures. It wasn’t the first time. My parents love to argue.
The traveling men always journey in groups of two. God bless them for continuing to return in their pact to save my parents. As usual, I nod a greeting and pretend to be busy, trying hurriedly to head to the back of the house to my bedroom as if it’s important to drop off my heavy book bag.
One of them smiles slightly, his eyes following me. He wears a thick mustache, and at my tender age of seventeen, he seems so old. In reality, he’s probably twenty-three or four. But in high school, not many boys my age are able to grow a full-out, Tom Selleck stash.
The other one looks like he watches me, but in reality, just one eye does. It takes me a minute to notice his other eye looks down at the bible passages still. The one that continually stares is obviously a glass eye. I shiver, creeped out with the image. It’s like one of those haunted pictures that come out during Halloween, where the eyes follow you no matter where you go.
My dad bangs his fist on the table, trying to make his point. The mustached one finally looks away.
I try to remember their names as I head to my room. Hell, they’d been coming for at least a year now, taking my parents’ abuse like they deserve it. Buddy. Terry. But I don’t know which is which, and don’t really care.
I change from the modest skirt and sensible shoes with a grimace. For once, I wish I could wear jeans just like the other kids.
It’s several hours before the house quiets, signaling the departure of the thumpers. I poke my head out and listen to see if it’s safe.
Soon I open my bedroom door fully to sneak away. I have no such luck, however. My mother sits at the end of the hallway, still at the head of the dining room table. This time she’s alone.
“Contessa. Please, sit. We need to talk.”
Warily, I pull the chair out and sit opposite her.
She crosses herself.
“Terry would make a fine husband,” she begins.
My brain is screaming all kinds of things. For starters, I’m just seventeen years old. And has she forgotten I’m not even allowed to date? Hell, I’m not even allowed to wear pants. But now she wants to marry me off to one of the strangers she met by ringing her doorbell? She can tell he’s a fine husband by that?
But the only thing that comes from my mouth is, “Which one is Terry?”
I’m horrified that he may be the one with the fake eye. I’m equally horrified that we’ll stand at the altar saying our I do’s…and I won’t know where to look.
When I turned eighteen—and while I’d like to say I confronted my parents and moved out—it wasn’t quite like that. No, actually I just concentrated on my dance.
In a strange contradiction, I’d been studying ballet since I was a child. I’m sure if they wanted to, my parents could find something in their bible that marked it as a dance of the devil. But for now, because I’ve had so many offers to study and sign on with dance companies, I think my parents are touched by the sin of greed. Greed works for me. It got me out of the house for hours on end. In a way, ballet was my escape. First as a child longing for freedom, then as an adult when I realized I could travel and make a living at this. A living far from my parents’ clutches.
“Tessa,” Tijar says gently. Startled, I look into his blue eyes. He smiles gently. He points to everyone else. All around us, the girls are climbing onto the backs of the other barbarians. We need to move faster. Niki’s headaches are growing worse, and Drakar wants to get her to see his mother, the healer.
Tijar drops to one knee in front of me, and I climb onto his back. He stands easily, and I’m impressed by the show of strength. Jeroc smiles at me, as if he’s letting me know it’s okay. Still, I wonder if he knows I’ve fucked Tijar. Or if he feels safe because he knows I fucked him last night.
All I know is I’m wrapped around his large body, and he and Jeroc continue to talk and laugh like best friends. I feel left out.
But now that I’m riding, I realize my feet are throbbing. We’ve kept up a brutal pace, and the humans aren’t all that used to a lot of exercise. I know what the pain signifies from my years of ballet. Newly formed blisters. I hold them out a little so I can see. There are reddened areas where the straps rub, but I know if I could take the shoes off, blisters will be along the bottoms of my feet also. I relax against Tijar’s back.
We’re not far from the village now, and we’re moving much faster without humans straggling behind. Up in the distance are huge gates between giant walls. The gate is open and is manned by Blaedonian guards. They look at us curiously as we pass through.
Arriving inside the village is strange. The noises from people chattering stops and the villagers stare at us, obviously never having seen humans. I slide from Tijar’s back and step in close to him. He wraps an arm around me protectively, and then Jeroc steps in on the other side.
A tall woman comes around to talk to Drakar and she’s hugging and kissing him, and fawning over Niki, who’s still half-asleep. This must be his mother, the resident healer. She looks around at all of us and ushers us inside. I wince when I take a step, and it’s Jeroc who sweeps me into his strong arms this time, carrying me inside.
The inside of the cave is massive, a giant cavernous room with hallways and smaller caves off the sides. The walls are embedded with a gold glitter.
Reverent mother applies salve to our feet, we’re fed, and soaked in the hot spring pool, and then assigned caves. I’m bunking with Cammie and Miranda, and some of the village women bring us leather clothing to drape ourselves in. Everything is way too long, and we have to roll the waistbands.
“This is crazy, isn’t it?” asks Cammie, as the third woman introduces herself and leaves.
“I still can’t believe it’s real sometimes. We’re actually on a different planet.”
There’s a rattling sound at the door again and we look at each other in confusion. “Do you suppose that’s like a doorknocker? Or a doorbell or something?” Miranda asks, getting up. She moves aside the curtain, and sure enough, there’s a tall hunter from another hunting party. He wasn’t among the guys who were dispatched to bring us back from the ship.
He’s thumping his chest and saying, “See-Yo.”
“Cio,” Cammie says drily. “As if Aschero isn’t enough, he’s introducing himself. I imagine he’s in the running.”
“We did decide to play the field,” Miranda says, and smiles flirtatiously at the barbarian. He holds out a small comb for her.
“A present to sway you from the other’s arms,” I say.
“I like presents,” Miranda tells him, accepting it with a smile.
“They should have roomed us with Jillian instead of you,” I say to Cammie, half-apologetically. “It would have been known as the cave of tramps instead.” As far as I know, Cammie didn’t agree to play the field. She seems happy enough with Naag.
“I don’t think they have the same hang-ups here,” she says seriously. “They’re obviously more accepting of other cultures. If you want to play around, go for it.”
Just then there’s more commotion at the door, and Jeroc is making his way inside.
“Tessa,” he says, smiling and holding out his hand. I place mine in his, and he helps me to my feet. He pulls me along, and I toss out over my shoulder, “See you two later.”
“Have fun,” Cammie snickers.
“See you late
r,” Miranda says from the doorway, where she’s still flirting with Cio. Funny thing, since she can’t understand him any more than I can understand my guys. At least they’re familiar. If I were her, I’d stick with Aschero. He follows her around with a look of adoration. I hope she doesn’t mess things up.
Jeroc takes me to his cave, and shows me around. Noise in the outer cave is winding down, and it’s obviously bedtime. I yawn, and Jeroc motions for me to lie on his bed of furs, which Niki and Lucie call a nest.
I curl up, and I’m barely aware that he’s undressing me and tucking me in. That’s the first night I sleep in Jeroc’s cave. The first night I start to fall seriously in love.
“Tessa.” The raspy male voice wakes me up the next morning, and I blink at the light. It sounds like…Tijar. For a moment, I’m confused. I fell asleep in Jeroc’s bed, and Tijar wakes me?
I open my eyes fully and sure enough, Tijar is peering at me like he can’t believe he has me to himself.
“Where’s Jeroc?” I ask.
He nods, and motions around the cave with his hand. “Jeroc.”
Is he telling me this is Jeroc’s cave? Not sure why I bothered to try to communicate. I yawn and stretch and the furs fall away…and I realize I’m naked as a jaybird under the furs.
Tijar’s breathing deepens and he pulls me up from the warm furs to show me a basin of water he’s brought. He must want me to wash up. I dip my hand in it, and it’s fresh and warm from the hot springs.
He stands there, watching as I dip the rag in to clean myself. After a while—with his loincloth tented—he starts to help me. His large hands run over my body possessively, over my now larger breasts, my pebbled nipples, down the curve of a hip, the swell of my buttocks. Then he cups my sex with the warm rag, and I moan, lost now in Tijar’s touch.
He growls something that sounds like, “Fuck it,” but I know that can’t be. He moves the basin and spreads me out onto the table, pushing my legs up at the knees and wide apart to expose my sex. Before I can blink, he stoops and his mouth covers my mound. He groans against my flesh at the first contact, as if I’m the yummiest thing he’s ever tasted.
“Oh,” I gasp, and all thoughts of this being Jeroc’s cave vanish. His tongue is magic, and dips in and out of my folds repeatedly, as if he demands to wring an orgasm from me. It rushes forth, sharp and sweet, and rips through me with a ferocious intensity that equals Tijar’s lovemaking.
I’m still panting when he drops his loincloth and angles the tip of his cock against my wet pussy. He pushes in and grunts at the resistance of my swollen sheath. As he fills me, he uses his hand to press on the area right over my mound, as if he feels himself inside. But I go crazy, writhing on the table, and he looks surprised. The pressure of his hand presses my heightened G-spot against the cock rings on his erection and in my sensitive state, I almost climax again.
I bring my legs straight up along his chest, and he turns his face to kiss the sole of my bare foot, and then thrusts up into me. He finds a rhythm, still pressing on my tummy, and when his thumb drops down to play with my clit, I explode, the orgasm wrenching tightly throughout my body.
It triggers his pleasure, and he shouts out, thrusting deep into me one last time. I feel his muscles quiver, and then a warm fullness fills me. My legs drop, wrapping around his waist as he collapses to his forearms over me, panting. He holds his forehead to mine, and looks frustrated that I can’t understand his words.
But he speaks anyway. “Je’ent alashi ti mall.”
“Okay,” I tell him, stroking his back.
This whole situation seems ludicrous. I’m in Jeroc’s cave, he cared for me last night but didn’t touch me, and here I am screwing Tijar in his cave. On his table. I feel guilty, and I still have no idea where Jeroc is. But Tijar’s his friend, and he doesn’t look guilty. Instead he pulls out, wipes us both off, and gets us dressed. Then, holding my hand, we venture outdoors. Outside we find Lucie sitting under a tree, and Tijar brings me to her, saying something rapidly in his language.
“He wants you to know that he spoke to Jeroc. Jeroc is visiting with his mother for the next couple of days. Tijar says he will care for you until Jeroc returns, and then he will return to the hunting schedule.”
“I really wish I knew the language,” I tell her.
“As soon as Niki feels better,” she says. “Though, Drakar is talking about taking another trip back to the ship soon. He wants to see if the computer can help Niki’s recovery.” Her voice sounds sad, and I think she’s preparing for the inevitable with Niki.
“Are we all going?”
“I imagine whoever wants to do the trek is welcome.”
She speaks to Tijar.
“Tijar says it will be in a few sunrises time. I guess a week? And he says if you wish to go, he and Jeroc will accompany you.”
I almost ask her what’s up with the three of us, but it seems too intimate to involve someone else. So I let it go. I nod. “I’d like that.”
He rambles something else to her and her eyes widen. “He says never doubt his love for you.”
Whoa.
Then Tijar takes me away, and proceeds to show me said love. He touches me tenderly, and brings his forehead to mine often. He feeds me and I’d feel like a plaything, except I watch other men doing the same with the females. They must cater to the weaker sex here. Not that their women look much smaller than the males. It’s two days of magic, and I think I’m falling in love.
We make love outside the village gates during outings we take, so he can show me the land. I sleep in his cave, though it’s shared with two other hunters, they’re off and about often. I imagine Aschero is chasing after Miranda, trying to keep her from Cio. Cammie is probably off with Naag. In either case, no one thinks anything odd with the constant cave-hopping and bed jumping. I wish we could communicate, but that will have to wait until we can get Niki better. In the meantime, we’re going to have to try to learn their language.
When we go to sleep the second day, it’s in Tijar’s cave. I wonder how we’re going to make the switch between guys and places, but at this point, I’m not sure I care to make it. Tijar fills my head, and my heart.
At some point during the early morning, I wake to Tijar crawling from the nest. He dresses quickly and leans over to kiss me, and I hear soft whispering from Aschero and Loshi. He slips from the cave with the two hunters. That must be why the hunters bunk together, even though Tijar and Jeroc are best friends. Their hours would disturb other people.
I fall back asleep and just when I hear the sounds of morning, there’s a soft rattling at the door. Jeroc pokes his head in, and he looks sleepy and sexy, like he just crawled out of bed. He comes into the cave and crawls in bed with me. His feet are ice-cold and I wrap myself around him.
I missed him. I kiss his chest sleepily, and we cuddle for a while.
I’m so glad Tijar and I bathed before crawling into bed late last night. It would be awful to smell like sex when Jeroc slips in here.
But Jeroc feels really good. I forgot just how yummy he is, with his lean cheeks cut through with dimples. The electric blue of his eyes. The messy, artist-style man-bun he wears on top of his head. It’s so confusing because I know I love Tijar.
But when I’m alone with Jeroc? I love him, too. I wonder if someday they’ll make me choose. Today though, sleepy Jeroc is stroking my hip, and it’s turning me on. I push his hands away, because I can’t imagine having sex in Tijar’s bed. That’s just too disrespectful to the man I love. The kitchen table is one thing, because a girl has to draw the line somewhere. But the bachelor/hunter cave doesn’t even have a table in it. No, it’s basically three single-sized nests and three shelves for various tools and belts. In fact, I rarely see all three guys in here at the same time. Tijar and I crawled into bed late last night, and the other two must have been already asleep.
JEROC:
This is the first time my Tessa has rejected my touch. My heart feels heavy, and I am confused. She should
be glad to see me, as I have avoided her for two days so she can have quality time with Tijar. Perhaps she does not feel for me the same way she does with Tijar? As soon as I think the thought, I feel guilty. I was consoling Tijar when he thought the same way, and now we both laugh over how silly that was.
No, there is another reason for her rejection. But she cannot communicate the reason with me. The language problem is frustrating, and all of the Blaedonians agree. But Lucie and Valencia are being run ragged with translating for the group, and Niki is too exhausted to transfer any more languages. In fact, a trip is being planned to return to the ship of the stars, the vessel in which they traveled. But this, I cannot even tell my sweet Tessa.
So I hold her, and stroke her smooth, pink skin. Her muscles are tight, much like a Blaedonian female, and I find her so very sexy. Her palm is open on my abdomen, and the warmth burns through my skin. I fight to keep my cock from swelling. I need her touch so very badly. Perhaps she is worn out. There are not a lot of women who wish to have two mates, like my Tessa has chosen.
I can tell when she wakes fully, so I begin to stroke her back, making sure to keep my hand from straying too low—to the delectable curve of her bottom. I press kisses to the top of her sweet-smelling head. Tijar has traded meat to Idrees for a flowery soap that smells wonderful on our woman.
Finally I sit, and pull her to her feet. I see her clothing folded at the foot of the nest. Tijar does a fine job of caring for our mate. I grab the bundle, and then wrap a light fur around us both and carry her to the bathing pool. There is no one else in it, and I catch my breath when I drop the fur from her. Her body is perfect. Curvier than Blaedonian woman, but in a smaller size. Her waist dips in, her hips are rounded for giving birth to strong babes, and her macciacas are full and lush. They are pointed with a darker color and when I rub them, they harden to peaks and pinken. I cannot rub them, though. She does not want to be touched this morning. Instead, I stare at them and lick at my lips, and watch as they pucker without my touch.