by Alana Khan
“He didn’t speak at all. We came together without a word. Our bodies spoke to each other. It was magnificent.”
With his hand on my neck, he walks me backward until the quiver on my back hits a tree. After shrugging it off, I feel the rough, cool bark through my leather tunic.
“He took you? Here in the woods?” his tone is breathy, his expression earnest, as if he wants to know every detail in order to get it right.
I nod.
“Without a word?”
I nod again.
He slants his mouth and takes my lips so hard my head knocks gently against the tree. His grip on my neck is tight, slightly uncomfortable, a silent reminder that he’s in complete control. Just this kiss and his rigid hold on me, and I feel my arousal spiraling higher.
He bends his knees so when he grinds his hips against me the hard ridge of his cock presses right where I need it most.
Much of the time he keeps his teeth hidden behind his perfect lips, but not now. They’re on full display. My channel clenches in desire as I recall the faint sting the sharp tips of his fangs make as they scrape along my delicate flesh when he’s in the height of passion.
Maybe it’s the primitive setting, but he’s discarded the trappings of civilization we usually cling to onboard the Fool. He is my huntsman!
His hips grind rhythmically, his fangs graze me, and he’s making low growling noises in the back of his throat. If he had done this the first time we had sex, I would have freaked out. Now, just a few days later, it makes me want him so badly I sink my fingers into the pelt at his shoulders, pulling him to me so tightly he won’t be able to walk away.
I jump up and straddle him so he doesn’t have to bend to press himself against me. This allows him to thrust and grind, adding so much to both our pleasure I find myself mimicking his eager noises from the back of my throat.
His tongue penetrates me in the same rhythm as his hips and I wonder how many more thrusts it will take, even through the layers of our clothes, to bring my release.
His snarl is louder now, a different timbre; it’s distinctive. He snakes his hands under my tunic, then slides them up my midriff until he cups the full weight of my breasts in his palms. Although we haven’t been lovers long, he’s already learned how anticipation makes me want him all the more. His thumbs make hot figure-eights on my ribs, promising so much pleasure when he decides to drag them higher.
We both realize at the same moment that something isn't right. I don’t know if we heard a noise, or just felt a shift. He slides me down so my feet are on the soft carpet of decomposing leaves and twirls to look behind him.
Not twenty feet away is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. My first thought is that it’s a combination of a tarantula and a scorpion. It’s four-feet tall and disgustingly shaggy with the gross hairy ick-factor of a huge spider combined with the pincers and deadly tail of a scorpion.
Its deadly front pincers are strong and large enough to snap my neck. Its high, flat tail is cocked threateningly. Its circular black mouth opens side-to-side instead of up and down.
I can’t control a shiver of revulsion while at the same moment fear slices through me. The hideous thing clicks its pincers and then scuttles straight toward us on hard black insectoid feet, all six of them.
Bayne stands staunchly between the thing and me, using his back to press me against the tree trunk. He’s already pulled his bow off his shoulder, nocked an arrow, and let it fly. It pierces the animal through its shoulder. There was no way to aim for its heart because it’s standing with its chest parallel to the ground.
I fumble with my bow and am still scrambling to pluck an arrow from my quiver when the thing hisses, then spits. Bayne isn’t deterred, he just lets another arrow fly, this time piercing the thing directly through one of its two beady eyes. It lets loose a high piercing whine, takes two steps toward us, then falls to its side—dead.
At least I think it’s dead, who knows how alien tarantu-scorps’ bodies function? I don’t see its chest moving, but on other planets can things reanimate?
Bayne unsheathes the knife on his belt and strides toward the thing. With the six-inch knife in one hand, he pulls his arrows out with the other. The wet-squishy sound the arrow makes when he removes it from the animal’s eye makes me swallow hard. I shake my head as if to get the image and sound out of my mind. It’s one of those things you know with certainty you’ll remember in detail many years into the future.
Bayne pierces me with a knowing stare and doesn’t miss the telltale signs of my discomfort. “Are you okay, Willa?” He stands, then seems torn between approaching to give me comfort and wiping the blood and guts off the arrows.
“You don’t need to come near me with those,” I tell him, wondering where the other Willa is. The Willa who learned how to field dress a deer before her tenth birthday.
He lets them fall from his hand and stalks toward me. “You’re not okay,” he announces. “You’re shaking.”
I feel all of five years old, wanting to deny the obvious and tell him I’m not shaking because as sure as I’m standing here, if I admit it he’s going to urge me to go back to the ship. So I just stand here paralyzed, my gaze flicking between my handsome huntsman and the huge dead arthropod whose little hairy mouthparts are still quivering.
He folds me in his arms and turns me so his back is against the tree. This accomplishes three things. He can watch over my shoulder to protect me, I’m facing away from the disgusting scene of carnage, and his warmth and compassion can seep into me.
“It’s okay, my Willa,” he croons, his capable hands sifting through my hair. “I want you to go back to the ship. It’s not safe for you here.”
I knew that was coming. Truth be told, my feelings would have been hurt if he hadn’t offered. I’ll be honest with myself, I volunteered—no I didn’t exactly volunteer, I demanded—to come more because I didn’t want to be separated from my huntsman and less to protect and soothe him.
I stroke up and down along either side of the quiver still on his back. He feels good, solid, reassuring under my fingertips.
“I want to stay with you.” I did an adequate job of sounding assertive rather than whiney.
“We’ve fought this battle before, so I won’t argue. I’ll just tell you one more time that I’d feel much better with you back on the Fool’s Errand. Because I . . .” He interrupts his own sentence to kiss me. Not a hard, passionate kiss like before we were interrupted, but a soft, heartfelt one.
Was he about to tell me he loves me? By the look in those gorgeous, golden swirling eyes, I think maybe he was.
His tongue has breached my mouth and is stroking mine in long licks, reminding me there’s a dog inside him. A strong warrior capable of protecting me.
It’s dimmer in the forest than it had been, at least one of Fairea’s three suns must be about to set.
Bayne must have noticed it, too, because he says, “We should get back to camp before it gets dark.”
As we walk, I keep my hand on my bow, ready to go into hunting mode in case one of those ugly scuttling things darts out of the growing shadows. I wasn’t much help when we were being attacked; I vow not to play the helpless female in the future.
We arrive back at the clear orb made out of what on Earth would be thick see-through plastic. I have no idea what material it is out in space, but it’s durable and will allow us to see the stars and wake with the sun.
Perhaps I didn’t think it through fully, because it will also allow every predator within a mile to see us, and the idea of making love in a see-through enclosure, especially so soon after the tarantu-scorp attack is not appealing.
“Are you sure this tent was a good choice?” I ask, picturing all the little woodland creatures grabbing seats outside our tent, popping some popcorn, and watching us get it on. I decide right here, right now, that will not be happening tonight.
“No. You were busy asking the shopkeeper about the ingredients in the food packets when Shadow
and I were making the purchase. It was the only thing available. We’re out in the open this way. I don’t like it at all.”
“At least we’re in agreement on that.”
We zip ourselves inside the sphere, I toss a thick comforter on top of the cushy bed. I wonder if maybe I was wrong about the no-nookie decision. All the little creatures could see would be the covers wiggling.
We have two comfy camping chairs, and the food packets heat themselves when you shake them. I have no idea what larg with vertiga and rendivar is, and couldn’t really get a feel for it from the picture on the package, but that’s what I pick to eat tonight. Bayne prefers meat—any type of meat. So he’s having a large serving of hensis.
We haven’t had a chance to talk a lot these past few days; we were too busy getting ready for this mission. Between sewing our own leather clothes, making shoes, and trying to perfect my skills with a bow and arrow, there wasn’t a lot of time for casual conversation.
“Tell me about your home planet,” I say around a bite of larg. The package should have been labeled, ‘Tastes Like Ass’.
The muscles on his face tighten as he looks down for a moment. Shit. Bad question. But then he gives me full eye contact as if he decided to focus on everything about his life before the invaders came.
“It was a simple place. There weren't any machines. It was a village with small houses made of saplings that were positioned in circular rows around one longhouse in the middle. That was where I recall the best times of my life.” A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth and his gaze darts to mine. It’s so good to see him have warm memories.
Chapter Nine
Bayne
Being trapped in canine form for so long muddled my thoughts. It’s a wonder I didn’t become feral. One good thing came of it, though, memories of my homeworld got lost in the fog. I’ve been bombarded with them since my return to two legs, and none of them were good. Now, though, sitting with my female, I’d like to page through them. If my thoughts get drawn to the bad times, Willa will pull me back.
“You might call it primitive, but it felt right to me. We were a warrior people, but it was out of necessity. There were many tribes, all vying for land and resources. We rarely killed each other, though. We vanquished by stealing livestock or driving them out of the fertile valley where we wanted to make our camp.”
“Sounds kind of like the Native Americans on Earth. They used to count coup, which meant riding up to an enemy and touching them with a short stick and riding away unscathed. I think it was a show of courage for prestige more than aggression.”
“So you understand.” He smiles at that and nods. “My father died right after my Spirit Quest ceremony. It’s when a boy becomes a male. I had to live on my own in the wilderness for ten days. A boy is sent out naked, with no food, clothes, or weapons, and is left on his own. When I returned, I felt like a full-grown male.
“Not only did I have no one to rely on but myself during those ten days, but I became closer to my canine form. We are born in our humanoid form but are able to shift by the time we reach five or six lunars. We worked together on my Spirit Quest more closely than we ever had. It was harsh and difficult and the best time of my life.”
In my mind, WarDog is lying with his head on his paws, his ears perked forward, tail wagging slowly, he sighs with contentment as I reminisce.
Yes, the best, he agrees.
Willa nods approvingly and says nothing. It’s one of the things I like best about her, she can tolerate the silences. I feel closest when we sit in the quiet together.
“And you, Willa? What of your life before you met me?”
“I guess females don’t need to go on Spirit Quests to declare we’re adults. We know when we’re women—nature makes a big red announcement.” She shrugs. “So mom died right around then and it was just me and dad and grandad.
“I liked digging in our huge backyard garden as a child. When mom died I loved growing all sorts of vegetables to go with the meat we hunted and those we had on the farm. I loved climbing trees, hunting, and camping. I was a tomboy. Did that translate?”
I shake my head.
“A girl who likes to do what boys do. I was never into frilly dresses or dances.”
Her eyes fly to mine. I guess we’re both thinking of the dance the other night.
“You seemed to enjoy the dance on the Fool. And I have to say I enjoyed your dress even if you didn’t,” my voice is deep and rough as my gaze makes a slow slide all the way from her pink lips to her toes.
“Well, yeah. I guess I’ve grown to like those things, too.”
Mate. This conversation caught WarDog’s attention. Mount her, make her ours. He wants to mate her. He’s wanted this since that first day in the cell when her fingers slipped under his ruff and stroked all the best spots as if someone had drawn her a map. She gave him a name like they were best friends. How could either of us not grow to love her?
Love. Is that what this is? I wish my mother was alive. She’d explain my complicated emotions. In our tribe sex was freely shared between mature males and females in humanoid and canine forms. I have never felt like this with any female I’ve lain with. Sharing with only one partner was reserved for mated couples.
Although actually there’s nothing complicated about how I’m feeling. I like this female, I have affection for her. I want to mount her, but it’s so much deeper than that. Most of all, I want to protect her.
I push WarDog back. He resists but then gives up and lies down with his head on his front paws.
“I wish you’d go back to the Fool,” I blurt before I know the words have flown from my mouth. Glancing down, I have the good sense to act contrite, knowing she doesn't like me telling her what to do.
“I know.”
“You say you want to protect me and keep me in humanoid form, but I protected you today. My belly clenches in fear just thinking what that animal might have done to you.”
When the picture of that thing spearing her with one of its deadly pincers darts into my brain, I wonder if I could go on without her. The thought slams into me that I already think of Willa as my mate. I’ll need to tell her.
Soon, WarDog agrees.
“Can I convince you to return to the ship?” I ask, knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, but does it with a smile. Not just any smile, but the slight tip of her lips that is an invitation for kissing . . . and more.
“I’m a canine. I have a strong need to assert dominance,” I warn as I rise to my feet. In my mind, WarDog leaps to his feet, too, his whole body at attention.
Sniffing deeply he urges, She wants us. Take her, hold her, bite her, make her ours.
NO, I snarl, our truce forgotten as jealousy overtakes me, she wants me not you. Back off. His head drops, his tail slips between his legs and he slinks out of sight.
Oblivious to my inner struggle with my beast, Willa responds, “I’m a female,” she says with a toss of her long brown hair, “I have a strong desire to feel dominated.” Her smile isn’t slight anymore, it’s welcoming. “Some of the time,” she adds with a shrug of one shoulder.
I practically leap to bridge the distance between us. Pulling her to her feet, I grab her shoulders and slant my lips across hers in a claiming kiss. I’m addicted to her taste. It reminds me of the warm sunshine back home.
“I know we don’t want younglings, but as soon as it’s safe, I want to take you,” I growl into her ear, then assault her mouth as if it’s an enemy encampment. I would be taking her by force, except she puts up no resistance as I slide into the warm recesses of her mouth, tasting and tempting in return.
Her fingers lodge in my ruff. She must love the feel. Her fingers always rest there when I’m nearby whether I’m in humanoid or canine form.
“Make love with me, Bayne.”
“Yes. When it’s safe.”
“It is safe. The doc said as of today it’s working, and it’s completely reversible if we want to change things i
n the future.”
I pull back to look at her by the light of the laser lantern. As I inspect her face, I see no deception, just sincerity and urgent need.
My cock, already hard and wanting, twitches in my pants at the idea of taking her fully tonight. I can’t mate her, I know. We haven’t discussed it. She’d need to understand what she would be getting into and agree to it. But just the thought of sliding into her wet heat makes me more excited than I’ve ever been.
I loosen the latigo cords holding the top of her tunic together, then gather the hem between my fingers and pull it over her head.
“I want you so much, my Willa,” I whisper in her ear. “Tell me you’re ready for this.”
