Zyar pinned him with a droll stare and sighed. “Simply amazing. They will name you the next village healer for this miracle. I’m sure of it.”
Ignoring the teasing remark, Zuran looked down into her strange blue alien eyes. She was magnificent. Yes, he thought. I will keep this female.
* * *
“You will not keep the female,” Ama declared in a harsh whisper as she stared down at the pulsating red glow of the vilebloom that she cradled in her palm.
The vilebloom was a sacred and ancient tool his kind used to determine if a female was fertile or not for as long as the Seyton had existed. By the way the crystal glowed it was obvious that the alien he had captured was fertile and ready to be bred.
“With the greatest of honors, Ama, surely you have no need of an alien female.” Zuran’s tail snapped with sparks as he tried to retain his control.
“She is in her prime for breeding, and you are far from fit to see to her needs in that respect,” she looked around at the gathered members of the tribe. “Olan is looking for a bride. He was set to cross the misted forest the day after tomorrow, but you have kindly saved him the journey.”
Zuran was aware he hadn't known the female long, that he shouldn’t even care where she went, but his head snapped to the side in irritation at Ama’s words. “There are plenty of Seyton females for Olan to breed.”
“All fertile females are coveted, hunter.” She cut her gaze to his. “You forget your place.”
His eyes narrowed on the head of his tribe as he tried not to hold her words against her; it was their way after all. Hunters were not permitted to marry since their jobs were considered too dangerous, and they were infertile. Even if that weren’t the case, the dark pigment of their skin was not considered desirable despite the fact that it aided them with their hunts.
Colored with reds and aquas and lacking the dangerous blades on the tips of their tales, breeder males were seen as perfect partners and exemplary specimens of Seyton masculinity. Their eyes were as colorful as their skin, and their horns contained their own electrical current that attracted the female eye. Everything about them was designed to draw in a potential bride.
Ama crossed white-clawed arms over her chest as electricity ran up her biceps and bounced between her straight horns. Her long white braids created a curtain around her, concealing her nudity. Zuran watched as her brows drew down over closed eyes. “I will pretend we did not have this conversation,” she murmured as her black wings unfurled behind her back. “I would hate to lose our best hunter.”
Tingles ran along his skin where the tip of one feathered appendage brushed across his bare chest. It was more contact than he’d had in a long time from any among his tribe. Though he was allowed to seek out pleasure among willing females, his body’s demand for procreation was becoming nearly unbearable. Some days it felt like the All Mother was being cruel, making them infertile, but still putting them through a yearly heat that drove them mad with the desire to procreate. Most hunters lost their sanity when the breeding heat seared through their blood, and soon he would be at the All Mother’s mercy. Staying away from the village, avoiding the females, was the only way to keep them all from finding out how close he was to succumbing to the heat. Ama was an exception as she was the only female safe for the unmated males. She was too close to the All Mother’s grace to push at a male’s breeding heat.
Zyar rested his tail over Zuran’s shoulder. “It was just not meant to be.”
Zuran looked down at the little female who stared around their village with wide, curious eyes, muttering to herself in her soft language. He reached his hand out to caress the violet strands of her hair making her jerk in surprise. The thought of handing her over to a breeder, even with the knowledge that she would be cherished and provided for, made his stomach twist. He had always known he would spend his life alone, with only his fellow hunters as company, but this was doing something inside of him that he hadn’t been prepared for.
“I apologize that I cannot keep you, little one,” he whispered as his fingers trailed over her chin. A white hand reached out to grab the alien’s arm, pulling a hiss from between his lips. “Do not touch her!”
Electricity raced up his arm causing him to stumble backward from the force of the shock as Asa, the female who had attempted to lead the alien away, snarled at him angrily. “Watch yourself, hunter,” she spat, looking down on him with disgust.
The alien female yanked at her arm in Asa’s grip and made the most pitiful growl he had ever heard. His eyes widened when she lifted a small foot and slammed it down on the bare one of the larger female. Her fiery blue eyes narrowed on Asa as she tugged at her arm again, a triumphant look crossing her face when she was released. The little one nearly knocked him over in her attempt to attach herself to his side. A grin pulled at his lips, and he just barely managed to suppress it as the alien clung to his hip.
Carefully, he stroked his hand down her side, pressing her body more firmly to his; he didn’t mind that she wanted to hold him. Actually, he rather enjoyed that the female was determined to stay by his side, that she touched him so openly. It was as if she was convinced that he was the male for her. The dagger in his tail peeked out, shooting a spark of warning at Asa’s feet. “I do believe it is you who should watch yourself.”
Zyar’s tail fell from Zuran’s shoulder as he took several steps back, clearing his throat softly. “I will see you on the hunt, brother,” he turned quickly, nearly running from the village in his attempt to avoid the confrontation.
When Zuran looked up he saw the reason for Zyar’s hasty retreat. Olan. The breeder male made his way toward where they stood, the female still pressed tightly to his side. “You would dare to withhold a female from her chosen?”
Zuran slowly raised his hands, casting his eyes to the ground, knowing what such an accusation could lead to. His tail ran delicately along the side of the alien female to show that she refused to release him. “I do not,” he barely held back a snarl as Olan stepped closer.
“Very well.” The scale spattered aqua stripes that ran along the male’s skin began to glow bright, making the red that ran alongside them look more like the sap from the fuzzara leaf as lightning began to bounce between his horns. His tail curled this way and that, moving so fast it was hard to keep track of as he began to dance in dizzying motions.
This was the mating dance, a display the breeders put on for their chosen females to entice them. The little alien female’s eyes widened, seeming to gloss ever as comprehension left her gaze. She slowly pulled away from Zuran’s side, drifting toward Olan. Each sparkling bolt that shot between his horns drew her further from Zuran, and she nearly fell over herself in her attempt to get to the colorful male. Zuran should have known she had been too good to be his, even though she had seemed to choose him. She obviously hadn’t realized she had better options.
3
Samantha
There was no doubt in Samantha’s mind that the black demon alien was incredibly dangerous. She had seen the dagger that popped out of the tip of his tail more than once just in the short amount of time since he had captured her. Electricity sparked from between the colorful alien’s horns, even though she knew he was just as dangerous as the dagger-tailed demon, she couldn’t seem to look elsewhere.
Only briefly aware of her body pulling away from the dark male who had captured her, she felt herself lean forward, her eyes locked on the other alien as he swayed to a rhythm he created. It was like being in a trance, her muscles moving without her commands. Every spark that leapt from his horns enticed her a little more than the last, and she became lost in the tempo, in the dizzying blur of colors that seemed to swirl around him. This wasn’t right; none of this was. She was helpless to sever whatever it was that was attaching itself to her and luring her in.
“That’s it,” the voice that came through her translator purred. It had started picking up words here and there during whatever confrontation she had found herself in the
middle of, but it still wasn’t proficient enough to give her a clear picture. Still, it was obvious that this male was pleased by her reaction, delighted even. Someone behind her, most likely the dark male, growled softly. “Fanahala,” the one in front of her whispered, curling his bladeless tail under her chin as he leaned forward to press his brow to hers.
Was this some sort of greeting? It seemed far too intimate to her, but she knew nothing about this culture. Hell, a couple of hours ago she had no idea these aliens even existed. What did she actually know? One thing she knew for sure was that these guys were not Grutex, nor were they Venium. Although this was all new to her, it seemed like her body had decided for itself. She was being dragged further and further away from the only being here who she had felt she could trust, despite the level of danger he represented. A part of her protested; she didn’t want to be separated from him, no matter the fact that he’d essentially kidnapped her and brought her here.
“Wait…” the protest was weak, but the colorful male’s electric show intensified, snapping all around her head. “I- I don’t wanna leave him…” Samantha managed to choke out through the haze.
What had she heard during the argument? Think. Think damnit! It hadn’t been much since the translator had been working out the language, but why hadn’t she wanted to be removed from her captor? Bride? “Hunter” was something she had recognized when they referred to the dark male, but she wasn’t sure if it was his name or a title.
Ugh, this fog in her mind was driving her insane, and she was pretty certain it was being caused by the male who had his forehead pressed to hers. “Enough.” Samantha pushed against him, but he was huge, and she hardly even managed to sway him. Well, fine then. This wasn’t the first time she had fought off unwanted attention.
Reaching down slowly, she slipped the small pocket knife from the clip on her hip, pressing the release so that the blade sprung out. “I said enough, Sparky!” Swinging her hand up, she felt the sharp steel sink into something soft and heard a hiss as the male in front of her jumped back, clutching a small wound high up on his chest.
The group of aliens who had gathered around them gasped, a couple of them rushing to the colorful male’s side as he stood motionless, staring at her like he was in shock. Samantha stumbled away from him; her lungs felt like they were burning as she struggled to draw air into them.
All around her there was noise, shouting, and growling; the air felt supercharged, and the hairs on her body stood at attention. Two of the light-colored females stepped toward her, and she brandished the pocket knife at them. “Back off! All of you!”
The females glanced in confusion at the one who still held the red crystal in her hands. That female watched her with curious eyes, her head tilted to the side as she seemed to ponder what action she was going to take. A soft growl at her back had her spinning around and coming face to face with the dark male, her breath catching as she stared up into his white eyes. Survive a crash landing on an alien planet? Check. Spend forty days alone on said alien planet? Check. Get kidnapped and not do something to get myself killed during first contact? Not going so well.
Her whole body clenched at the thought that she might have just signed her own death warrant. So stupid. Just as the male stepped toward her a growl rumbled loudly through her stomach, and heat blossomed on her cheeks as embarrassment flowed through her. The ghost of a smile played over the male’s lips, and she prayed that the translator had learned enough that she could at least request a meal.
“So, uh, would anyone be willing to spare some food?” she asked, turning to give the group an awkward smile.
* * *
Apparently a growling stomach was universal for “I’m hungry” because the table she was led to was nearly overflowing with all sorts of delicious-smelling dishes. It wasn’t food she was familiar with, but with the way her stomach was going on, she couldn’t have cared any less. A few of the dishes were vegetables she had spotted on her trek through the forest while others looked to be types of meat.
While most of the food laid out before her seemed edible, the sight of the creature still in its exoskeleton had her nose scrunching up in disgust. Not going near that one. If she ever made it back to the ship she was going to suggest they start a class teaching all of the crew how to politely tell aliens you’ve just met that you want nothing to do with their giant roasted bugs. Something akin to sprouts was on the left of the bugs, and next to that was a steaming pile of grey roots that reminded her of a radish. She wouldn’t have called these her favorite foods based on looks alone, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. When on an alien world, eat alien food, right?
“Is there something I can get for you to try, Fanahala?” The red guy, Sparky, asked her.
Lips pursing, she glanced around before pointing to a green, meaty looking substance. “Maybe that?” Fingers crossed it wasn’t that color from sitting out too long. “What was your name? I don’t think I caught it.”
“Olan,” his smile, although a tad toothier than she normally found appealing, seemed genuine and warm. Their species as a whole seemed to have considerably sharper teeth than humans, and the fact that she had attacked this guy without that knowledge made her queasy. Samantha’s eyes drifted over to the darker male, the thorn in her side, the entire reason she was here in the first place. “That is Zuran. A hunter for our tribe.” Olan spoke, following her gaze.
“Olan and Zuran. Great, I’m Samantha. Nice to meet you both.” she snorted at the absurdity of the introductions, as if this was some run of the mill business lunch. “Which one of you is going to tell me why I’m here?”
“The rumbling of your stomach indicated that you were hungry, so you were brought here for the evening meal,” Olan explained. Unhelpfully.
“Yeah, I got that part. I want to know why I was brought here to this-” She gestured at everything around her, struggling to find the words. “Village?”
Zuran watched her as if she was going to pop out of existence if he blinked. It was clear he was agitated by the fact that he had been seated on the opposite side of the large table instead of near her like Olan was.
“It isn’t safe outside the village,” Olan growled, his eyes narrowing on the other male in warning.
“That’s not much in the way of an explanation. I was doing fine before Zuran found me. Why can’t I just go back to my ship?”
“You were tested against the vilebloom.” He must have guessed she was confused by the look on her face because he clarified, “Ama used the vilebloom, and it was determined that you are a fertile female. You, like the rest of the fertile females, belong in the safety of the village. The forest is fit for no one but hunters and beasts.”
This was obviously a point of contention because Zuran cut his gaze to Olan and sneered. “Well, as nice as it is that you all are offering to keep me safe, I’m not one of your people.” She gestured down to herself, as if their differences weren’t glaringly obvious.
“You are not Seyton; this is correct.” Olan inclined his head. “You are from the stars. Star Born.” the smile he gave her seemed strained, like he wasn’t exactly thrilled by that information. “However, you have been selected for me as my bride, and you will remain in the safety of the village.”
Samantha inhaled quickly, nearly choking on the food she had frantically shoved into her mouth, her eyes wide as she coughed in an attempt to dislodge the meat. Olan patted her back while Zuran nudged a cup full of liquid into her hands. She took a deep gulp and wiped her teary eyes. “I’m sorry. Wow. Um, I don’t think that translated right. Could you do me a favor and repeat that last little bit?”
“You are to remain in the safety of the village because you are to be my bride, my Fanahala. You are the female who will bear my young and who I will create a home with.”
A strangled, hysterical laugh burst from her throat as she stared at him incredulously. “You cannot be serious, right?”
“He is,” Zuran interrupted.
Her f
iery gaze shot to him. “And who exactly got to decide this?” Anger began to boil her blood. Olan hadn’t even known her name before he had tried to manipulate her into following him. He had used whatever magic pull he possessed to lure her into his arms, and she wasn’t about to accept that this was something she should just go along with.
If she had to choose, she would honestly much rather be with Zuran. The worst he had done at their first meeting was to hold her upside down with her face nearly pressed into his dick. Big deal.
“I decided,” the white female at the end of the table answered.
“And what in the hell gives you the right to choose who I marry and have kids with?”
“Ama is the chieftess of this tribe, Fanahala. All matings are presented to her for approval.” Olan practically vibrated with electricity as he inclined his head toward their chieftess. “Her decisions are guided by the will of the All Mother.”
“Olan is correct. The All Mother has spoken, and it has been decided you will be his.” The regal-looking woman spoke, her words traveling easily over the space between them.
These people were crazy. There was no way she was sticking around to be a delivery machine for some alien because their deity willed it. “I hate to break it to you, but I fucking will not-” her words were drowned out by a massive crack of thunder. No, that wasn’t exactly right. Samantha squinted up at the sky and nearly toppled over backward when she leapt from her seat at the sight of the S.S. Constellation breaching the planet’s atmosphere.
They were coming for her!
The excitement of seeing the ship faded quickly when she realized the trajectory was insanely off. Something wasn’t right. If they didn’t slow down they were going to crash. Samantha pushed past Olan as he stood and raced through the open field that the table was set up next to, trying her best not to lose sight of the craft, but it disappeared behind a towering grove of trees. Only seconds later a loud, echoing boom filled the air around her, and she knew with a doubt that the S.S. Constellation had made contact with the rough, unforgiving terrain of X9.
Blooming Desire Page 14
