by Ruby Dixon
"M'rsl," my new mate says. He taps a finger against my breastbone, where my khui is thrumming hard. Then, he murmurs something and points at my belly. When he gestures at his mouth, I realize he's asking if I'm hungry.
I nod. "Really hungry."
He brushes his fingers over my cheek again, as if he can't stop himself from touching me, and gets to his feet. I see a dead fish hanging from a hook on the wall, a cord strung through one of the gills, and…surely not. I know the tribes eat a lot of food that they catch, but it's still a shock to me every time I see it. I grew up with packaged food and the closest I've ever come to this sort of “realism” is when my mother made beef tongue tacos and would buy a huge, sloppy-looking tongue from the grocery store.
"This is just sushi," I tell myself in a mini-pep talk as T'chai sits down across from me. He crosses his legs and picks up a knife and a woven bowl and begins to gut the fish. He cuts off the head and tosses it into the basket, and as I wrinkle my nose and watch, he carefully cuts a finger-length bit of fresh meat off of the fish and holds it out to me.
Oh boy. Sushi, I remind myself, and take a delicate bite of the pinkish flesh. It's…surprisingly delicious. I must show my astonishment, because he chuckles and slices another tiny bit off, holding it out to me. He watches me closely as I chew, and I eat every piece he gives me, and when he holds out the very last bite, I realize he's taken none for himself. I suspect I've eaten his lunch, and although he'd probably never say so, I feel guilty. I shake my head and gesture that he should eat it.
T'chai eats the bite of beach-sushi quickly, and then reaches into the basket and grabs the fish head, popping it into his mouth. He crunches down, and the sound is loud and wet in the hut.
"Ugh," I say, unable to help myself. "That is horrifying!"
He grimaces and points at his mouth, mumbling something and nodding, as if he's agreeing with me that yes, it tastes terrible. T'chai makes a face and then drinks a swig of water, shuddering.
"You're seriously weird, amigo." I watch him, brows furrowed. Maybe it's another sort of alien custom I don't understand, like you eat the head of the fish to thank it for its service or something weird like that.
My gaze falls back on his big, naked body, and he's so…golden. I reach out and touch his hand, and even though his skin is the same shade as mine, he still only has three fingers and the texture of his skin is that soft, delicious suede sensation. As far as I know, the other aliens don't change colors like this. "Is this because we resonated?" I ask him, tapping his hand. "Are you trying to match me?"
He just watches me with a hooded gaze, and I can tell he doesn't know what I'm saying. There's not a single flicker of recognition on his face.
I pull back, but he grabs my hand before I can and puts my palm to his cheek. Even with a language barrier, the message is clear. He wants me to touch him.
It seems like…a bad idea. Or rather, not a BAD idea, but one that will lead to more than I really want to do right now. I don't know this guy. All I know is his name and that he eats fish heads and doesn't like them and he's turned tan instead of blue. But…I can't seem to help myself. I want to touch him. I want to touch him all over. The khui in my chest is singing so insistently that it's making me ache everywhere, and so when the alien rubs my palm against his cheek, I wonder what it could hurt.
Just a little touching. Just enough to take the edge off.
I trace my fingers over his cheek, following the proud lines of his bones and down to the hard edge of his jaw. When I glide my fingertips over his lips, he shudders, groaning, and I catch my breath. Did I think his face was hard and unforgiving? Like this, he's beautiful and not unfriendly at all. Just strong and proud.
He opens his eyes, and before I can realize what he's doing, T'chai pulls me into his lap.
I let out a squeak of distress as he hauls me against him, my breasts colliding with his warm skin and the heat of his cock prodding against my inner thigh.
"No," I protest, putting my hands on his chest and pushing. "No. Too soon!"
His mouth flattens and his eyes narrow, as if my reaction is confusing. "M'rsl?" He taps his chest, indicating his khui, and reaches for me again.
"I said too soon," I emphasize again, and get to my feet. The hut no longer feels comfortingly small but too small and stifling. I pick up the trashed remnants of my tunic and wrap it around my front, then head for the entrance to the hut and peek out.
The other three alien men immediately turn at the sound of the door covering rustling, open curiosity on their faces.
I shrink back inside, letting the hanging hide me again, and press my back against the cool stonework of the hut's walls. What, are they watching because they want their turn? Do they think this is a gang-bang situation? It's not lost on me that there's a cluster of huts but only four people here—zero of whom are women.
I glance over at T'chai, who continues to watch me with an inscrutable expression.
"Where's Lauren?" I ask again. "What did you do with her?"
3
T'CHAI
My female is…confusing. She likes my touch, then she does not like it. I pull her into my lap so we can mate, and she tries to run. Does she not realize that she is resonating? She looks around our clan-home with open-mouthed wonder, and perhaps her clan is different than mine. Perhaps they live in trees, as Strong Arm does, or deep in a cave like Shadow Cat.
"Do you not like my touch, M'rsl?" I ask, getting to my feet.
Her gaze immediately goes to my hard, aching cock, and she shakes her head again. She says something in that strange language of hers, all fluid sounds and breathless noises, and then presses a hand to her brow.
I might not understand her words, but I am not a clueless male. It is obvious that she needs more time this day. Perhaps she is still hungry or feels unwell. She put a hand to her brow—is she overheated? I move to her side and press my fingers to her brow as well. Warm, but not overly so. "Do you want more water? Or would you like to bathe? Eat? Tell me, and I will do it for you." I lift her hand to my cheek, unable to resist brushing her small fingers against my jaw again. I cannot get enough of her touch, but there is plenty of time to fulfill resonance. I do not have to rush her…no matter how my cock feels.
She bites her full lip and glances at the entrance again. "HvfooseenLoornn?"
"A walk on the beach?" I ask. "Would that please you? We do not have to go far. I can try to catch more fish." My stomach rumbles at the thought, and the leftover bits were not enough to fill my hungry belly…I did not anticipate having a mate to feed. I do not regret it, though. I would trade all my meals so long as M'rsl is happy and her belly full.
Her gaze flicks down to my stomach and relief crosses her face. She gestures at her mouth and points at me. "Tish-shyyy wannaeet?"
"Come. We will go fishing. Let us see if the waters will give enough so I can provide for my mate." I pull the flap on the front of the hut aside and then step out, offering her my hand.
She hesitates for a moment and then comes after me, still holding the scraps of leather to her teats. Immediately, she steps behind me, letting me shield her from the others.
Nearby, M'tok and S'bren are conveniently mending nets on the shore, a task I know both of them hate. R'jaal is in the distance, toying with his spear, but I can tell his attention is on us. Of course they are lingering. The curiosity has to be eating them alive. I gesture at the female standing behind me. "This is my mate, M'rsl."
M'tok scowls in our direction. "Why is she hiding?"
"This is new to her. Of course she is afraid."
He grunts, glancing over at his brother. "Seems like she is afraid of her shadow, that one. I am glad I did not resonate to her."
Just hearing him say that fills me with rage. I take a menacing step toward him. "Do not talk about my mate. Do not even look at her."
M'tok shrugs. "I am just saying—"
"He is bitter," R'jaal says, moving toward the brothers. He reaches out and slaps M'tok o
n the back of his skull. "He is disappointed. We all are, but there is only one of her…cowardly or not. Someone was bound to get hurt."
M'tok scowls and rubs the back of his head, but he does not disagree with R'jaal. He seems surlier than usual, and R'jaal is right. No matter how he feels about M'rsl, he is disappointed. They all must be.
"You were not in the hut for long." S'bren glances over at us. "Are you taking her away? For mating?"
I know my clansmates are curious, but the nosy questions irk me. My cock is rigid from the constant thrum of my khui, so it should be obvious that we have not mated yet. Even if we have not, what does it matter? It is between her and I, and she is frightened and uneasy. Why would I force her to the ground and mate her when she is not eager for my touch yet? There is plenty of time in the day.
Perhaps her people only mate by night, or by the light of the full moon. I do not know and I cannot ask, and yet…it is not their business. It is mine. It is M'rsl's. It is not M'tok's or S'bren's or R'jaal's. I understand that they wish to know—the fate of our clan's continued existence lies in our hands—but surely they can give us more than a brief moment in a hut before we are on each other like slavering sky-claw. I give them a dismissive look and turn to my mate. "We are going fishing. M'rsl ate what I caught but it is not enough."
"You caught something?" S'bren's tone is mournful, and when I look back, he is rubbing his stomach. "But you are right, feed your female first. She is the most important."
R'jaal comes up to us and M'rsl slinks behind me again, clutching at my arm with a small hand as he approaches. "Your spear," my friend says, holding it out to me. "You dropped it earlier."
"My thanks." I take it and wait for him to back away before I turn to my female again, and put a firm hand on the small of her back.
"Serrybuddy nekkd?" she whispers to me. "Allatime?"
"Yes, fishing," I say to her. "For food." I would make the food gesture, but my hands are full, so I just nod.
She nods, too, and considers the leather scrap she holds in her hands. She has been clutching it to her front, but with a big sigh, she tosses it back down in front of my hut. "Wennin Roahm."
MARI
So this must be what it's like to live on a nudist beach, I think to myself as I sit on the shore and watch T'chai spearfish. There's a lot of breezes, the potential for heinous sunburns, and sand every-freaking-where it shouldn't be.
At least the view is nice.
I wrap my arms around my knees and watch as T'chai remains perfectly still in the hip-deep water. It was a little startling when he waded in and shifted colors to match the rippling waves. I made a terrified croaking sound that made him race back to the shore, and it took a few minutes for him to calm down again before he headed back out. I'm learning all kinds of things out here on Nude Sushi Beach. I'm learning that these people are buck naked all the damn time, probably because of the heat and humidity. It makes sense, I suppose. Why put on heavy leather if you're just wading out into the waters? I learn that T'chai changes colors like a chameleon and camouflages to his surroundings—or to his mate, which makes me blush with an odd sort of pleasure. And I learn that T'chai has these impressive little dimples just above his rounded backside, which are pretty fascinating to stare at.
I also learned that if it comes down to me or his people, T'chai chooses me. That's pretty heady stuff, considering we barely know each other. Even so, I saw how he confronted them earlier. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but the tones and facial expressions were obvious. His friends were acting like sullen jerks and T'chai put them all in their places and defended me.
My khui has chosen wisely. Not only is my guy an absolute smoke show, but he's got a protective streak. I'm so grateful for that protectiveness, because I'm absolutely terrified of this situation. I don't know where I am, I can't speak the language, and Lauren is missing. I'm not the decisive, leader-y sort. I'm more of a cowering sidekick. I wish I was more brave like Lauren, but it's just easier when someone else is in control. T'chai glances back at me on the beach and I wave absently.
Much easier when the one in control has cute butt dimples.
He's not much of a fisherman, though. We've been out here for a few hours and he hasn't caught anything. I waded on the shore earlier—the waters are crystal clear and surprisingly warm, which worries me. This is supposed to be an ice planet, not an island paradise. Either I've left the planet or something's really wrong here.
I suspect it has something to do with the constant plume of smoke on the horizon, or the fact that the warm water looks kind of like a circular bay. I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure I've read enough books and watched enough nature shows to suspect there's some sort of volcanic activity going on here.
I wonder if T'chai and his people realize that. Did all the others leave ahead of them and T'chai and his friends are the only ones left behind? They're just handling some business before they get the hell out of Dodge? Except…no one seems to be in a hurry. I've been watching T'chai spearfish for hours and the man is incredibly patient. He barely moves a muscle, even when my cootie starts to sing so loudly that it's making me squirm on the sand.
That's another problem. I'm getting so many problems that they're all running together in my head. With a stick, I start to write in the fine-grained sand. Problem One—resonance. I scratch out “resonance” promptly and replace it with “volcano.” Priorities, Marisol, I chide myself. Remember all the history books you read about Pompeii and Herculaneum? Smoking volcano takes priority over whether or not you have to sleep with a hot guy and make a baby with him.
Problem Two—Lauren. I don't know where she's at. There's no one else on the beach and earlier, when I headed toward the trees, calling her name, T'chai herded me back toward the beach. I've got to find her.
Problem Three—Home. This one feels less “clear” than others. A volcano has an easy solution—get the heck away from it. Lauren has an easy solution—go find her. Home? I don't know where “home” is anymore. Do I mean the icy beach the other tribe was on? The spaceship we were smuggled here on? Earth? Somewhere else in this terrifying universe?
I have no answers, so I cross it out and replace it with “resonance.”
Problem Four—Language. I need to learn how to speak to T'chai. I need to somehow communicate to him that there's a volcano in the very near vicinity and we need to leave pronto. I need to tell him that I'm from Earth. I need to tell him…that I want to be his friend. I make a flustered noise in my throat and rub out the word “resonance” with my foot. Just writing it out makes me feel like a big doofus. I'm a grown woman. Surely I can navigate some casual sex with a hot tropical alien man? We can kick it Blue Lagoon style. Those movies were hot.
Wait. Didn't they die once they had a kid? And if we have sex, there will be a kid.
I mentally scratch Blue Lagoon off of my list of things to compare my situation to. Tarzan. Tarzan is better. I'll go with that. George of the Jungle works, too.
T'chai moves in the water, stabbing hard. I jump to my feet as he surges forward and makes a sound of success.
"Did you get something?" I call, wiping sand off my ass. (Literally. Sand is absolutely everywhere.)
He holds up his spear in triumph, and it's another fish, no bigger than my hand. It might even be smaller than the one I had earlier. He bounds back to shore with his catch—if you can call it that—and says something excited to me. As he does, I can't help but notice that T'chai's incredibly lean. He's gorgeous, his shoulders broad, but I notice when he moves that I can see all of his ribs. That's…concerning.
The waters are empty, except for this one lone, dumbass fish. Then again, of course they are. My cousin had a saltwater aquarium, and I remember it got too warm one day because she lost power in the summer. The tank got a few degrees too hot and all the fish went belly up.
My stomach clenches nervously and I look at the plume of smoke on the horizon. Heat. The water’s heating…and smoke on the horizon. “
Oh boy," I whisper. "Ohhhh boy."
"Nih?" T'chai asks me, cutting the head off of the tiny fish and slicing it open. "M'rsl nih?" He gestures at his mouth, indicating eating.
Do I want to eat? No.
Right now? I very much want to hide. This island is tropical, but aren’t most tropical islands built from volcanic activity? Something tells me that we are in a lot of danger.
4
T'CHAI
My mate does not eat the fish I bring back to her. She encourages me to eat it, and when I will not without giving her a few tidbits, she takes them reluctantly and only nibbles, then hands the rest back to me. Her gaze strays to the sky, and she watches the smoke that rises from the Great Smoking Mountain's corpse. It worries her.
"It always smokes and makes angry noises," I reassure her. "It will not help things by not eating."
She just gives me another worried smile and points at it.
"I know. It cannot be solved this day. It will smoke until it stops." I shrug and offer her another tidbit of food. "We must be strong for when it shakes the world again. Me, you, and our daughter-to-be." Just the thought fills me with joy. M'rsl's strange appearance here is a gift to my struggling clan, and I will not worry over things I cannot fix.
I can worry over my mate and nothing more.
After there is no more fish, I gesture that I will head out into the water again. M'rsl shakes her head and tugs on my hand, leading me toward the trees. I let her pull me forward, but I stop her before she goes deeper into the jungle. "You do not want to go there," I promise her. "There are things that bite, and dangerous kaari that can tear you limb from limb. It is safe here on the shore." I reach out to stroke her cheek when she ignores me. "This shore is Tall Horn territory. The trees belong to Strong Arm. Do you understand?"
"Looooooorrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenn," she howls, cupping a hand to her face. "Yaaaryuuuuliiiive?"
