by Ella Maven
Would Merr-anda always do these fancy things for us? And why did I like it so much? Everything she touched seemed to sparkle. Around her, colors were brighter. The sun was warmer. I felt less like a savage.
After dinner, I decided to share with her my favorite place. Because of her leg, I scooped her into my arms and carried her outside of my hut. I traveled around the side, where I’d made a small platform path just barely wide enough for my shoulders. She clung to me, and while her bloom trembled with nerves, she didn’t protest. Her trust humbled me.
At the back of my hut, I’d built a ramp that rose along the back wall to the roof. I ascended it until I was able to take a step onto the roof. She gasped as she took in the view, and I placed her on her one good foot.
Her eyes darted from the sky to the ground to the leaves which reached toward us. She reached out and tapped one with her finger, laughing softly as a drop of water resting on the leaf splashed onto her foot. I understood her awed reaction. This was the reason I came up here often at night.
Our moon glowed softly through the trees and stars tinkled. The outline of another planet was just visible, lit by its own moon and the stars. I sometimes came up here when the painful disconnected memories became too much, when my cluttered mind felt fractured. I’d often wondered when the last of my sanity would slip.
But I didn’t want to think about that now, especially because the memories had started to come into focus, just a little bit, as long as Merr-anda was at my side.
She took a few tentative steps toward the center of the roof near the hole I’d cut into it for sunlight. I arranged one of the furs I’d carried on the floor and wrapped the other around her shoulders. She smiled at me, white teeth gleaming in the dark.
I sat down next to her and pulled my hair pick from my pocket. I ran it through my unruly strands, doing my best to untangle the knots. I had thought many times of cutting it, but my reflection was often the only thing I recognized. I worried if I didn’t even recognize that, then I’d truly go mad.
Merr-anda’s hands stilled mine, and then she plucked the comb from my fingers. Her touch was soft, and I craned my neck as she knelt behind me. With a tsk sound, she redirected my head with a gentle press of her fingers to face away from her.
At the first pull on my scalp, my eyes fell closed. As she worked through the tangles, she made a sound, like her sengeng, but with no words. The vibrated melody wound through my limbs one by one, loosening the tension in my muscles until I felt like a cloud floating in the air.
She worked on my hair for a long time, as a welf family howled in the distance and moira scurried below us in the brush, foraging for food.
I couldn’t remember when I’d ever felt this content or relaxed. No one had touched me like this or took care of me ever. I hadn’t thought I’d enjoy it or want it. But now she’d shown me this attention, I knew I’d crave it.
When the tugging on my scalp stopped, I mourned the loss of her touch. I cracked my eyes open as she touched my face. She held up a strand of her hair, wound together in a braid. Then she tugged on my own hair with a questioning look. I nodded, and she smiled.
When she slipped to my back again, the tugging continued, and I closed my eyes again. She worked quickly and continued her wordless sengeng. The murkiness of my mind seemed to fade, the dark shapes in the background creeping forward. Usually that came with pain, but now, I only felt warmth as Merr-anda’s hands sifted through my hair, occasionally rubbing my shoulders and neck.
I often fought with the shadows when they surged forward, tired of the pain, the memories. But now, I felt stronger and ready to take them on. It was because of her, Merr-anda. I’d thought my purpose was to protect her and care for her, but I hadn’t realized what she’d do for me. The human I’d thought fragile was physically smaller than me, but her mind? It was formidable. Kindness radiated from her, and she’d brought beauty back into my life. When had I ever taken the time to admire the many-colored blooms in the forest? Now I had eaten with a cup full of them.
Merr-anda’s sengeng calmed me, and her touch invigorated me. With her, I didn’t feel scared to investigate the murky shapes in my mind. The barrier of dark smoke I’d thrown up long ago to protect me now shamed me.
I hadn’t realized she’d stopped her task until she was in front of me, eyes assessing her work as they flitted over my hairline. I placed a hand on her thigh, the skin still sun-kissed warm despite the darkness. Her gaze shot to me. Held. Heated.
I surged forward and pressed our lips together. At first, she didn’t move, and I worried I’d taken things too far, but then a needy little moan rose from her chest and fluttered across my lips. I needed more. I needed her, maybe more than she needed me. When I slipped my tongue into her mouth, she gasped and clutched my jaw with her talented fingers. I wrapped a hand around her lower back and tugged her into my lap, where her legs straddled my hips, her heated core pressed against my hard cock.
I licked into her mouth with abandon, craving her taste and her little moans, and the way her hips churned against mine. Dizzy with her, my mind spinning and the smoke protesting at the upheaval. The stars in my mind pressed, insistent, their glow forcing the barrier of smoke back like an advancing army of light.
A singular image broke through. My face but younger, wind whipping my long hair around my shoulders. And with that image came one singular sound. Foreign at first until it beat inside my head like a caged hunner. Drak. Drak. Drak. Drak.
I pulled back from her with a growl, clutching my head as the word pelted me over and over again. I fell onto my back with a groan and Merr-anda surged over me, eyes no longer glassy with arousal but now wide with concern. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear any sound. I could only hear that word over and over again.
Drak. Drak. Drak. Drak.
It was like a rock against the wall of my skull until a crack appeared, just enough for a bit of light to peak through.
The word burst out into the light, and knowledge slammed into me like a truth-tipped arrow. My throat burned, fire ripping through the cords there just as my lips moved. That’s who I was. I was….
I opened my mouth, eyes finally focusing on the creature above me who had broken through my darkness, and I uttered the first word that had left my lips in as long as I could remember.
“Drak.”
Miranda
The word ripped from his throat like a record-scratch, the sound caustic and abrupt. He clutched his throat, eyes panicked and pained as he writhed on the rooftop under me.
Tears pricked at my eyes because this big strong alien looked equal parts terrified and tortured.
I placed my hands over his, but he didn’t stop. He said the word again, which rhymed with back. “Drak.” With a swallow he tried again, and this time it was less like sandpaper on tree bark. “Drak.” His chest heaved, and the smoke in his aura was a whirling mess, sometimes gaping so large that figures behind it were nearly visible.
He struggled to sit up and plastered my hand against his throat. I waited as he panted with his eyes closed.
“Hey,” I kept my voice as calm as I could, the one I used with my siblings’ when they were upset about bad grades or cheating boyfriends. “It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re okay. Come back to me. Please.”
He took one more shuddering breath and the smoke in his aura faded. Light peaked through, and when his eyes opened, they were a vibrant purple. His pulse which had been beating rapidly in his neck slowed. He slid my hand down to his chest, where he clutched it and pressed it over his heart. “Drak,” he rasped.
He took our hands and placed them on my chest, then looked at me expectantly.
“Um…Miranda?”
He nodded, and then pointed to his own chest again. “Drak.”
My mouth dropped open. “Is that your name? Drak?” Did he just suddenly remember it? I gripped his face and said it again. “Drak.”
He nodded, and then he did something I hadn’t seen him do, not once, not
even after he orgasmed. His lips stretched out, his eyes crinkled, and he smiled.
I’d been given some awesome gifts in my life, from friends and family and clients. A gold-plated gavel from my first case. A booklet of favors from my siblings—even though I never used any of them—and a scholarship from my high school.
But they all paled in comparison to the gift of a smile from Drak. It lit up the darkness so bright I swore we would attract everyone within miles. He went from handsome to downright breathtakingly beautiful. And I felt like I’d earned it. I’d trusted him and cared for him. This was what I got in return, his smile. So simple yet something I’d cherish for the rest of my life.
“Drak,” I needed to keep the sound on my tongue, to remind him who he was. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew he’d had some sort of breakthrough in that dark mind of his.
“Drak,” he growled, purple eyes firing, and then pulled my face down to meet his.
This kiss wasn’t gentle like the one before, with a sweet probing tongue and caressing lips. This was a claiming kiss. His tongue enjoyed what was his, and his lips kept me open for the taking. I had never been kissed like this in my life, and my core pulsed at the ownership of it.
I let him, my commitment to spinsterhood all but forgotten, because how could I deny someone who made me feel like this? I wanted him. I wanted more from him than his kiss and his tongue between my thighs.
His cock throbbed between us, pressing against my clit where I straddled his hips. I pressed down, flexing my ass, and he growled into my mouth. He bucked against me and angled his head to deepen the kiss further while his hands coasted down my torso to slide under my top. I braced my hands on either side of his head and gasped when his rough thumbs plucked my nipples.
“Drak,” I murmured again, and his lips peeled back into a nearly feral snarl, eyes a tornado of black and purple.
With a flick of his wrist, he tore my top from my body. It spoke to my height of arousal that I wasn’t concerned about the only clothing I had, painstakingly sewn by my friend. It didn’t matter. Who cared? I could be naked forever with Drak as long as he kept looking at me like I was the best food he’d ever had.
I didn’t want to wait or draw this out. I was so wet I’d coated his pants with my arousal. I shoved his pants down and palmed his throbbing cock. He kicked off his pants, and I did the same while remaining careful of my ankle. When he lay naked beneath me, I straddled him, guided his cock to my entrance, and sank down.
He was huge, long and girthy, and I’d never had anything this large inside me. Even with how wet I was, I gasped at the intrusion, and Drak made that vibrating sound in his throat, fingers digging into my hips as he locked his jaw tight with self-control.
When I finally took him into the hilt, I threw my head back, hands braced on his hard abs. The feel of him … there was nothing like it. He stretched me to my limit and reached every place inside. The thick ring on the tip of his cock rubbed my sensitive inner walls with a delicious rasp.
“Drak,” I murmured, just before I surged up and slammed back down. He threw his head back, body arched, neck muscles corded as I fucked myself on his cock like a wanton thing. My ends of my braids brushed his thighs, and I moaned as I got the angle just right. His cock pegged me in the place that made me see stars. My sole focus was on where we connected, how good I felt and how much pleasure I could bring him.
He didn’t just lay there. He bucked up into me, his powerful hips thrusting in time with me, his strong fingers twisting my nipples. When his hand came up and gripped my throat, I cried out.
The world turned, and I didn’t realize he’d moved us until my back was on the roof and I was staring up into his face. He took over, powering into me with his muscled body, growling constantly so that his scarred throat was a vibrating blur. His eyes were nearly neon, glowing like a siren and I was a sailor entranced. When the node on top of his cock—the one the girls told me about—stretched to suck on my clit, my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I was close, my orgasm barreling down my spine like a freight train. He leaned back and threw my legs over his shoulders, which changed the angle of his cock inside of me. That was all it took. I came on a garbled cry, clutching at him as my body shook and heaved. I was nothing but a trembling mass of flesh on the end of his cock, tears streaking my face and wetting my hair as he plundered my body of everything I had.
When he came, it was on a silent roar with his mouth open and his neck stretched. He shuddered as he emptied himself inside of me, and when his hips finally stopped churning, he wrapped me in his arms and rolled us to our sides with his cock still inside my body.
I nuzzled my face into his neck and closed my eyes, too tired and overwhelmed to do much more than that.
It was sometime later I finally felt him move.
His cock slipped from me, leaving me empty, but he quickly returned to my side and wrapped us in a fur. I opened my eyes. “Drak,” I murmured as I blinked at him blearily.
He smiled at me and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Drak,” he whispered. I grinned as I fell back asleep.
Seven
Miranda
The rooftop became our new favorite spot. We didn’t have a discussion about it, since the only word he was able to utter was his name. But the next night, Drak led me to the roof to sleep where he’d made a new pallet of furs. So that was it.
That was our life for a week. Maybe two weeks. I didn’t keep track. All I did was focus on healing my leg and regaining strength in my muscles. Drak hunted for us and showed me in his silent way how to track various prey. Without words, he was far and away better a teacher than Crius.
I learned which antella were the right ones to kill—never babies or females in heat. I even learned how to skin them, and which cuts of meat were the tastiest. He showed me how to live on this planet, and I felt like his equal in a way I hadn’t ever felt with the Night Kings. I didn’t fault them for it. I understood why they remained protective over us. But with Drak, I could almost believe we were alone, partners on an island with a lush wildlife population and tasty plants.
It was impossible to cover up my poor vision even though I tried. So much of the trees and brush around me looked the same, that I often would get turned around and confused if Drak wasn’t right next to me leading the way.
One afternoon while I was tending to some blooms at the base of the tree leading to our hut, Drak pointed out something in the distance. Curious, I began to walk toward it until he stopped me with a stern look. He made a hand sign that I’d learned meant welf. Embarrassed and annoyed with myself, I nodded and continued with my gardening.
But Drak wasn’t done with me. His booted feet stepped into my vision, and I glared up at him. He ignored my glare, because while in the beginning, he was timid not to upset me, now he had gotten used to the moods I had every now and then and didn’t take it personally anymore.
He tugged me to my feet and placed his palms down. That meant I was to stay. I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him. Which only made him blurrier.
He walked to a tree trunk about five feet away and with one of his claws, carved a circle in the bark. He returned to my side with a long stick. After swiping away the leaves at our feet, he placed the stick in my hand and tapped the dirt. He then pointed at the tree trunk.
“Do you want me to draw what I see?” I asked.
He looked at me expectantly. I sighed and drew a circle in the dirt. His aura gave a pleased shimmy.
He walked farther away this time, to a trunk about ten feet away. This time, he drew a triangle. By the time he returned to me, I’d already drawn a triangle in the dirt. It was then I realized he had improvised a sort of caveman eye test. He’d detected my vision wasn’t up to par with his, and while I hated this sign of weakness, I also knew that out here, we were only as strong as the weakest link. Which was me. He had to know just how poor my vision was for survival purposes. While I understood the purpose, I still hated
someone else knowing I had a physical limitation.
He walked away again to make another mark on a distant tree. This continued until the point where he turned around, and I couldn’t see the mark on the tree. Helplessness burned in my gut like acid, and when he returned to my side, I shook my head furiously and threw down the stick.
He watched me with a frown and then stepped right up into my space, ignoring my body language which clearly said fuck off. He gripped my face, and his gaze held neither pity nor censure. If anything, he looked pleased.
I soon realized the test wasn’t to make me feel weak or stupid. He had a valid reason, which he proved when he strategically placed markers at various points around our hut. A cluster of red flowers signaled the base of the tree we climbed to our home. He laid purple flowers down along the path to the spring. And he placed yellow flowers about ten feet apart on the border of what he considered our territory. There were a few hazards on the trails we frequented, just as fallen limbs or a hunner next, which he also marked.
When I realized what he was doing as he busied himself with the flowers, I nearly burst into tears. He did that all for me, extra work for himself when already the burden of keeping both of us alive fell on him every day. He didn’t care, though. He wanted me to feel safe and welcome. He wanted me to feel at home. I wasn’t sure he even realized how much it meant to me. I made sure to show him later when I gave him his first blow job.
Best of all, he encouraged me to listen more. I was not a patient person, but because of Drak, I trained my ears until I could hear a pivar pack in the distance or the sound of an antella chewing berries.
In return for all he did for me, I tried to improve the quality of his life. Not to pass judgement, but Drak’s mental health was in the shitter. These aliens had zero concept of self-care. I couldn’t exactly give him a facial or anything, but I diligently braided his hair, which had an interesting texture that held braids well—if they were woven tight enough. Good for him, I’d braided my own and my sisters’ since I was a kid.