by Ruby Dixon
I look at the one that handed me water. "Where am I?"
He watches me with fascination, tilting his head as if I'm some weird zoo creature. He seems nice enough, I guess, but I'm still unnerved that I'm stuck here alone with him. I glance over at the next one—and my cootie starts up.
Oh no.
Oh, no no no. This is bad. This is really bad.
The khui—the parasite they gave all of us—is some sort of creature that lives in our chests and helps us stay healthy. According to what the aliens that rescued us shared, it filters the air, makes the body work optimally, and ensures the propagation of the species. I didn't resonate the moment I got my cootie, unlike Veronica, and there were only three unmated aliens on the shore, so I thought I'd dodged that bullet. I don't want a mate—I can't even take care of myself right now, so adding another person to the mix is just something I don't need.
Apparently my khui has decided things for me, though. Because it starts purring harder, and I stare at the second alien in shock as my chest rumbles with what must be resonance. He's rumbling too, this stranger, and I think this has just complicated things a dozen-fold.
At least my new mate is…handsome?
Or as handsome as an alien could be, I suppose. I'm still not used to the whole “tall and looming” thing. Or the horns. Or the tail. This one has incredibly long, black hair that has bits of shell woven into the occasional decorative braid. His horns skyscrape up from a proud forehead and his eyes are piercing. His nose is aquiline and his jaw is as cutting and sharp as any telenovela actor. His mouth is a little harder than I'd like and his expression is…brooding. Beautiful, yes, but not friendly.
Somehow, this is disappointing. I'd rather he be friendly and cuddly. I need a friend right now.
I cringe back when he reaches for me, glancing around the beach. "L-Lauren? Lo? Are you out there?"
There's no response. One of the other males makes a disgusted sound in his throat, spits some words, and then gets to his feet, walking away. The other three still hover near me, including my new unsmiling mate. He watches me for a moment longer, and then offers me a hand.
I don't take it. "Lauren?" I cry out. The need to run and hide is overwhelming, but I don't see anywhere to go. I'm…alone. That's terrifying.
Not really alone, though. I now have a resonance mate. Even more terrifying.
The alien I resonated to grunts something under his breath. He gets to his feet, and when I skitter backward on my hands, he slides his arms under me and picks me up, bridal style, and begins to carry me down the beach. Er…okay. The urge to run away hits me again, but where would I go? I look at my surroundings but there's nothing familiar. For the first time, I realize I'm not anywhere near the beach that my friends were at.
I don't know where I am.
Beyond the stretch of beach, I see trees. A great many trees, all of them green and lovely and as tall as any jungle on Earth. They grow thickly together, and I hear birds and other things calling to each other as they move through the branches. There's brightly colored ferns dotting the ground and flowered vines hanging from branches. On the other side of the beach, the water is a crystalline greenish-blue unlike the dark, bottle-green waters on the shore I remember.
Where the hell am I? And why is it so hot? I tug at the neck of my leathers, because they feel uncomfortably gross and sweaty. Maybe it's a side effect of the khui lighting up for resonance—I'm having a hot flash of some kind.
The man holding me says something under his breath, the words unintelligible. He glances down at me, and his expression is almost…stern. Definitely forbidding.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I don't understand you. And I'm more than a little scared of you."
He says something again and I just shake my head. I hear the frustrated breath he lets out, but he doesn't try to talk to me again. I have no idea if that's good or bad. At least he seems to be strong? He carries me easily through the sand, and as he walks, I notice he's heading up what looks like a long, sloping cliff off the shore. At the top of the rocky cliff, I see what looks like a cluster of huts.
Okay. Shelter is good.
Or is it bad? Is he taking me home because he wants to mate with me? I let out a terrified little squeak and clutch the neck of my wet, gross leathers even tighter against my skin…and try to ignore the hot little pulse of arousal between my thighs. That's not me. That is the cootie.
Real Mari is NOT turned on by a hot, forbidding-looking alien with long, sexy hair and a firm jaw. She knows better.
(Unless she swallowed a ton of saltwater and is somehow hallucinating. That makes sense to me in a weird sort of way. More sense than resonance, anyhow.)
The stranger says something to me in a low voice, and even though I can't understand his words, the timbre of his voice is oddly soothing. He sounds calm. Collected. Easy. As if this resonance humming between us is no big deal. Strangely enough, his confidence eases some of the tension out of me. I relax in his arms, and when he heads toward one of the huts, I look at it with interest. Maybe Lauren's in here?
But when we enter, it's empty. It's stuffy inside, and there's a woven flap over the door that's supposed to provide privacy, I guess. The roof is thatched and blocks out most of the sunlight, but gaps trickle in here and there. Overall, the hut is…small. I like the small, though. Small feels comforting. There's a woven mat on the floor to protect from sand, a “nest” of leaves that must surely be bedding, and a few baskets of belongings. A net is hung on one of the stone walls and there's a large, platter-sized seashell filled with water that must be used for bathing.
My new friend—my mate—sets me down gently on the bedding, murmuring more soft words at me. He continues to speak as I sit up, looking around, and then he moves to my feet and examines one of my leather boots. He says something, then pulls out a skinny, sharp knife and begins to cut the bloated, sodden leather away.
"I might need that," I whisper in protest.
He glances up at me, says something, pointing at my foot, and then goes back to cutting. Okay, then. I bite back my protests, wishing I could be brave like Lauren. What would Lauren do if she were confronted with a stranger she resonated to and who started to cut off her boots? She'd probably make him stop. She'd probably learn his name, teach him a few words of our language, and take control of the situation.
God, I wish I was like Lauren. She's always brave and in control, even when she's scared. In a way, she's a lot like Velma from the Scooby-Doo cartoons I loved as a kid. She always has a plan, and nothing rattles her.
Me, I'm unfortunately less of a Daphne and more of a Shaggy. Everything scares the shit out of me and then I hide.
"So you might not know this," I confess to my mate as he pulls my second boot off and examines my now-wrinkled toes. "But when it comes to the whole 'fight or flight,' I should definitely tell you that I am very much a 'flight' kind of girl. Or rather, I'm a hider."
He glances up at me and says something that sounds like a question.
I shrug at him.
The alien grunts and goes back to cutting, this time working up my sodden leather pant leg. I should probably stop him but…the leather does feel gross and it's so damn hot here. The air is positively sweltering with humidity, which is so bizarre given that I thought this entire planet was nothing but snow.
The guy says something again, glancing up at me as he continues to cut.
"If you're asking if I want to keep my pants on, the answer is yes. But somehow, I don't think that's what you're asking." I notice he keeps cutting higher, revealing more of my leg, and I have to admit that the cooler air feels pretty good. "If you're asking me about Lauren, I'm afraid I can't answer you. I don't know where she is, and I wish I did." I give a wistful look around me. "She's the brave one. I'm the chicken. She's the only one that's really befriended me since I got here. Everyone else just thinks I'm some massive coward because I'm constantly hiding. And maybe, okay, sure, it IS a little cowardly, but it's not because I'm tryi
ng to hide from my destiny or anything stupid like that. I'm not an ostrich putting its head in the sand. It's just…" I sigh, leaning back on my hands as he continues to work on my leggings. "I've always felt better in a confined space. I used to be scared of thunderstorms when I was a kid, and I'd get into my closet and hide at the bottom of it, underneath all the hanging clothes. It felt like a little fort, you know? And because it was a tiny fort, I felt safer. Like I could control the world around me as long as it was that small area. I guess coming back here has made me revert, because now all I want to do is hide in small spaces and calm down. It just…helps me think. I know that's weird, but I swear it's just me trying to self-soothe. You understand, right?"
He glances up at me and points his knife at my other leg. "Es sa?"
"Yeah, sure, why not." I shrug. "Good talk. Glad we got this out in the open."
He grunts and moves to my other side, cutting through the meticulous leather stitching on my borrowed clothing. I don't want to think about how many hours of work he's destroying. I'll make it up to whoever gave me these pants. Somehow. Provided I get back.
"So you and I are mates," I murmur, watching as he settles in next to my other leg and decimates my pants with a knife. He could just, you know, ask me to take them off, but maybe he feels this is better? Who can say. "I'm kind of regretting resonance. Not because of you. It's nothing against you. I don't know you. It's just…you're going to want a nice, strong, bold mate and I'm a hider." I glance down his long, lean body and notice the, um, large equipment lying against one thigh. "You, my friend, are clearly not a hider. Though if you are still a grow-er at this point, we might have a problem if you rearrange my insides."
"Eh?" He glances up at me again. "Es sa?"
I shrug again. What does he expect me to say? "It's nothing. I'm just talking about your penis." I put a hand to the side of my mouth as if confiding a secret. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's huge. Also I think I might be suffering from sunstroke. That's why I'm saying all this stupid stuff, right? Is it possible to get sunstroke from those pinprick suns? It's just…lord, it's hot." I pluck at the heavy collar of my tunic. "No wonder you're naked. It probably feels a lot better."
He grunts as if in agreement and knifes through the last knot on my pants, then tugs on the material like I'm a big baby that can't pull her own pants off. The moment he does, my lower half is exposed to the air and I shiver. Yes, the breeze feels good, but I'm not prepared for how I feel around this stranger, being pantsless.
I'm also not prepared for him to pause and stare at the dark triangle of curls between my thighs. He stops his work completely and I can feel my face heating in a blush. I steal another glance at his enormous equipment, and yeah, he's hairless, his private area as bare as any porn star, and his rather large sac a fascinatingly deep shade of blue. His cock's also swelling, his khui humming urgently, and there's that odd spur thing on top that someone mentioned.
"That's an awful lot to take in," I tell him as our eyes meet. "And that's not me making a pun on your size. Though I probably should, because you are an awful lot."
He rumbles something, his long hair sliding over one shoulder, and then reaches between my legs and gently pets my mound, his fingers stroking lightly.
I suck in a breath, shocked at his bold touch…but I don't pull away. "Um…so you just did that. And I should really tell you no." But my cootie is going a mile a minute. "I know we're media naranjas as my mother would say—two halves of a whole—but can we get to know each other first?" I tap my chest. "My name is Marisol. Me llamo Marisol." I tap again, because that might be too many words for him. "Marisol."
He reaches down and strokes my pussy again. "M'rsl?"
"No, that's not Marisol. I am." A horrified little giggle escapes my throat. "Please, please don't call my pussy Marisol." I tap my chest. "Marisol." I point downstairs. "Pussy. Or concha if you're feeling so inclined, but let's stick to one language for now."
His hot gaze moves over my face again. He reaches forward with his hand and taps me on the chest, right where I did. "M'rsl."
"Close enough." I nod approval, and then reach out hesitantly and tap his chest. "Who are you?"
"T'chai." His voice is all rumbly and deep when he says it, and it makes me quiver. It also makes my Marisol downstairs clench deep inside.
"Oh," I breathe. "Your name is…Shy? Did I say it right?"
"T'chai," he says again, tapping his chest. The way he says it is differently than me, like there's a hard stop right before his name.
I try again, emphasizing the first syllable as best I can. "T'chai?"
A hint of a smile curls his hard mouth, and it takes my breath away. Oh wow. My cootie has surprisingly good taste. He's got a hard, stern expression, but when he smiles down at me…damn. There's something about it that feels like a gift. It's barely a twitch of his mouth, that smile, but there's something in the softening of his eyes and the way he watches me that makes me think he's very pleased indeed, and that makes me hot and achy in ways I've never felt before. This feels different than plain sexual pleasure. It feels…deeper. Far more intense.
I could be in a lot of trouble here.
"Where am I, T'chai?" I try as he pulls out his knife and starts to cut away my tunic. I don't exactly want to sit around naked, but the weather here—wherever I am—is warm and moist and right now my leather feels awful. He's completely naked, and so were his buddies, so maybe whoever these people are just aren't into clothing in the summer?
Is it summer? Oh god, have I been asleep for a long, long time? I think about the pods we arrived here in. At least, I’m pretty sure we were still in the pods. The last thing I remember is holding an unconscious Lauren against me as the waves pounded into us so hard that it was difficult to draw breath. What if Lauren and I somehow activated one of the alien pods and we've slept for a thousand years in some Planet of the Apes-type crap? Or what if I'm the only one left and Lauren died a hundred years ago?
The thought makes me panicky.
It's not helping that T'chai is ignoring me. He's concentrating on cutting the leather, unwrapping me like a package, and I put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Where am I?" I repeat again. "Where is Lauren?"
He reaches out and taps my chest. "M'rsl." Taps his chest. "T'chai."
I let out a sound of irritation, and his gaze flicks back to me. There's amusement there, and I realize for all that this guy is a foot and a half taller than me and corded with muscle, he's also not frightening to me. I'm not scared now that I’m near him. I'm irked that we can't really communicate, and I'm worried about Lauren, but…I'm not really scared. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can relax. I suppose I have cootie endorphins to thank for that.
He says something as he cuts away my sleeve. It's a short, abrupt syllable, and it could mean any number of things. When I give him a blank look, he peels the leather away from my skin and tosses it aside, and then I'm sitting naked in his hut. Mari and her resonance mate, just chillin', utterly naked. Totally normal. I fight back a hysterical little giggle and have to admit that it does feel better. Cooler.
But if one of his tribesmates sticks their heads in, I might start screaming. I can be naked around this guy—T'chai—since we're resonating and that feels weighty and important. Those other guys? Not happening.
Now that I'm naked, T'chai stares at my boobs for a long, long moment that makes me decidedly uncomfortable. He rubs his mouth, thinking, and I curl an arm over my chest to hide them. He gestures at my tits and then rocks an arm against his chest. "M'rsl?"
Is he asking if I have a baby? I shake my head. "No, no baby." I think of how lean the alien female—Farli—was. I never thought to ask if their women just didn't have boobs. I thought Farli was just flat because she was athletic. But maybe boobs are new to him? I gesture at my small B-cups. "This is just normal."
"Nor-mah," T'chai repeats, and a look of relief crosses his face.
"What about you?" I gesture at everything he's
got going on, especially his large equipment down south. "Is all that normal too?"
His brows go up at my question, and he huffs a laugh. "T'chai nor-mah tlaik va niis." I don't know what any of that means, but he looks pleased at the fact that I asked.
"Great," I say softly. I’m not sure what the answer was, but whatever. I chew on my lip, looking around. "What do we do now?" I have no idea how to proceed. What does one do when you resonate to an absolute stranger with whom you don't even have a language in common? I have so many questions and zero answers, and I'm worried about Lauren. She can handle herself, but…this new planet is challenging to anyone, no matter how capable they are.
T'chai reaches for my face, and when I flinch backward, he pulls back, too. We look at each other warily. "M'rsl," he murmurs, and hesitantly reaches for me again.
I let him touch my cheek, and he brushes his fingertips over my face, his expression fascinated. His fingers are light but callused, and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. I haven't dated in forever, and my last boyfriend wasn't very touchy-feely. I've forgotten how good it feels to have someone caress you. Maybe it's the cootie affecting me, but…it feels really good and I don't want him to stop.
I shiver as his fingers move down my jaw, caressing. He murmurs my name in that weird, abbreviated way of his, but I like the way it sounds and I don't correct him. He's trying. His hand falls away and I open my eyes—
—only to gasp in shock. He's no longer blue. The pale blue of his skin has changed to a rich golden tan. I reach out to touch him, his eyes bright in his face, and his skin feels the same? It's different only in shade, and when I brush my fingers over his cheek, I realize we're the exact same color. Somehow, his skin tone has changed to match mine.
"Wow," I whisper. "Is this part of resonance? Or is it something else?"
