Wyst

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  We weren’t suited or destined to be, unless the goddess he worshiped had a cranky side, putting two people together who couldn’t hold on to the best of them individually, much less as a couple. Choosing instead to pit enemy against enemy, bringing out the worst of each other yet making our bodies thirst for the moment tab ‘A’ slid into slot ‘B’.

  One I was sure would again make not only all my pink bits, but my mind, explode.

  So I moved slowly, as carefully as possible as I tried to untangle myself from Wyst’s arms.

  With only a few starts and false alarms, I finally disengaged myself and tip-toe to the bathroom. As the shower water heated from cold to tepid, I reviewed our argument the night before when we’d been fighting to find some way to get wheels so Wyst wouldn’t to have to walk the entire way back to what he called ‘our transport’. A phrase I would never subscribe to something as bodacious as the Escalade SUV.

  He’d argued about me accompanying him, citing how I couldn’t keep up and how my energy had flagged during the beginning part of our journey. He was right. Alone, the huge alien could’ve ate up the miles if he hadn’t been trying to keep me company. But it was still a trek, not just a fun walk in the park. And he would be going uphill before the road leveled out. Then there was the whole, mountain-thingy that could find him taking virtual skin off his totally fine ass as he slid back down to where the car had come to a rest.

  So, I’d suggested getting a set of wheels from Pete. I knew the two of them hit it off, shown by the way they’d appeared bonded over the monitor’s display when I’d returned from the restroom. Ask him if we could rent a car for cash, I’d advised the stubborn alien at the end of our ‘discussion’, done mostly silently and along our crazy link after we’d finally found our breath after we’d finally done the deed. Which should be said in all caps, but I was trying to keep a lid on that particular doing.

  Even so, menra Pam, I wouldn’t know how to drive it.

  Okay so the whole menra thing was new, but I got the gist of what he was saying. Even if Pete did have a car we could rent or borrow, Wyst didn’t have the first clue on how to drive it. So much for alien technology, with their enhanced sight, hearing, smell, speed and physical prowess. They still needed a car to drive itself wherever they wanted it to go. In my opinion, it was the whole teach-a-man-to-fish situation.

  And in frustration, so enraged by his lack of imagination, I’d yelled at him. Actually, it was more like a scream as I let my emotions run wild as I used my voice. “So ask him for a mother-fucking bicycle, dude. Or a freaking horse if he has one.”

  Now you are simply talking wildly and without thinking. Let us sleep on the idea and perhaps we’ll come up with something better tomorrow, proclaimed the hard-hearted, shit-for-brains who tucked himself against my back, an arm cradling the underside of my breasts as he got into position beneath the covers. Besides, I do not have knowledge of what a horse is or how it can help in obtaining your possessions from our vehicle.

  Even then, when the hot alien I’d met at a speed dating event, friends with the man who’d taken my bestie’s heart and filled her with his child and who both turned me on and pissed me off in equal measure on a daily basis, asked for a truce?

  Yeah, I caved.

  Jumped on his suggestion like a voracious locust in the middle of a ripe wheat field.

  And I have to admit, I’d fallen asleep pretty damn quick in his arms in the middle of our shared mattress.

  Only to awaken still cozy within the confines of his embrace, with his dick rubbing gently but intermittently against my ass.

  Jay-sus.

  If we’d had the money, I could’ve purchased the bare minimum of what I needed at the closest superstore before I presented myself to Dani that afternoon. But we didn’t, which meant one or the both of us needed to make the hike back to the car. Which elicited a big, old, hell to the no from the center of my being. Actually, I wanted to try to rent a car and prove Brent wrong when he’d told me my bits of plastic could be traced by the crew members of the Searcher.

  A tracing which would give away our location.

  And maybe put our lives in peril.

  If it was just me, I would’ve chanced it. But to wager Wyst’s life on the altar of my ego? Nope. That there was my no-go.

  I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink and cringed. It was one thing to be without my makeup, perfume and skincare stuff—all the lotions and potions which helped in making me a better, more attractive version of myself—but the lack of my hair products was the hardest to accept. Especially because without me taming my curls and waves into submission, my hair veered into the frizzy side. And not just the light a-few-wisps-out-of-place you see on the shampoo commercials. Mine was the full on, dandelion-fluff variety.

  It was not a good look for me.

  Or anyone for that matter.

  Hopefully, Wyst and I would be able to get my suitcase and be back in time for me to enact my magic before I had to be at work. Which meant I wouldn’t be showering until later. So I just brushed my teeth and changed my underwear to the ones I’d washed out the yesterday morning, before reaching for the bathroom’s doorknob.

  That’s when I saw it.

  And the sight caused and immediate implosion inside me.

  Because there, right there on the inside of my right wrist sat a circle of shiny, silver metal filled with the tree of life symbol. An exact replica of what was on the back of Wyst’s neck and my Granny’s necklace.

  His warrior’s wahrom.

  And now I had it too.

  Which meant…oh shit.

  Sinking down to the floor, I couldn’t take my eyes off it as my surroundings fell away. It, and what it meant, held my full focus as my brain whirled with the implication of its appearance.

  And how much the sonuvabitching thing was gonna ruin my life.

  Pulling out the pendant I never removed, I compared the two side by side. There was no difference between them, just like there hadn’t been when I’d done the same with the necklace and the metal on Wyst’s neck back when we were waiting for Leah in Urgent Care. Every line, every curlicue were exactly alike, so much so they appeared have been crafted by the same artisan.

  My granny’s necklace I could explain away as a coincidence.

  But there was no way to rationalize the goddamn thing on my wrist. No way at all.

  And I also knew there was no way in hell to remove it since Leah and I had tried everything when she’d grown Rykhan’s symbol on her bicep. Even the doctors in Urgent Care hadn’t been able to take it off. And because it didn’t cause any pain or compromise her movements, they’d suggested leaving it alone after doing every test known to man in order to try and determine exactly what it was and how it got there.

  The ‘how’ didn’t bother me.

  It was the why.

  Why had I been chosen to be Wyst’s one true and legitimate mate? Of all the women on the planet, why me? I didn’t know if I ever wanted to get married and even if I did, it sure as shit wouldn’t be to him!

  We weren’t even friends, for fuck’s sake (the doings of the previous night notwithstanding).

  To say I was screwed didn’t begin to cover half of it.

  And once Wyst and the other warriors got wind of the metal on my wrist, my life as I knew it would be over. I’d be his little wifey, expected to follow, have sex on demand and take care of him just as he’d be charged with the same. And I knew for a mother-freaking fact Wyst didn’t have it in him to handle that portion of coupledom. When it came right down to it, our selfishness was just about the only thing we had in common.

  Pixie? Are you about done in there?

  Christ! What the hell was I gonna do? Since telling him was out, I figured I only had one avenue open. And that was to hide the effing thing as best as possible and hope he never, ever found out I wore his matching warrior symbol.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Walking the half-mile to Pete’s place was a quiet one. Something
Wyst never thought was possible for the tiny sprite since, in his opinion, if she was awake, her mouth was moving. The female could talk and argue about anything, so much so he’d learn to tune her out.

  That was unless she spoke to him along the Mycalyte Trivajni, that mental connection Gyed had seen fit to bless them with. Although as blessings went, it was one Wyst would’ve willingly forego if he’d been given a choice. The fact they’d both learned how to communicate without other ear’s overhearing and then shielding most of their thoughts for the majority of the time were the only ‘saves’ in the whole of it.

  And that morning was no exception, since the stuff filling Wyst’s mind all had to do with a full and detailed recollection of sharing sex with her the night before. It had been the best experience of his life and one he couldn’t wait to have again.

  Just not with her.

  Not that she hadn’t been the perfect partner with her beauty, her responsiveness and encouragement. But he’d read on many, many blogs and articles that human females had a tendency to think a couple were in a relationship if sex was shared more than a couple of times with the same male. Since the night before was their second time in bed (even though it was the only successful one), Wyst wouldn’t allow more to occur.

  He wasn’t in the market for a relationship just yet. There were just too many available attractive females, coming in all different shapes and sizes for him to settle on just one. And his plan was to gain as much experience in the field of physical joining as possible so that when it came time to choose a mate, he’d have an adequate sampling with which to select from.

  Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he wondered if she’d already started to develop loving feelings for him. He didn’t think so, seeing how she’d given the morning greeting in her grumpy voice. In fact, even after sharing breakfast with her at the diner which included three cups of the vile liquid she called coffee, her attitude hadn’t improved in the least and she still seemed prickly, snapping at him over the littlest thing. The fact she treated him much as she always did, reassured him there wouldn’t be a scene when he moved on to the next female who caught his eye.

  But would the next one know how to prevent him from becoming overly excited and reaching his bliss too quickly? The way his Pam had done so was a relief on too many levels to review, but it gave him hope others would have the same knowledge.

  What if they didn’t though? Could he do the same maneuver on himself and obtain the same results?

  What if his tailpor refused to rise as it had done with the Arlene? Not that he’d experienced that difficulty with the little pixie. No, he’d been so hard, so achingly erect with her he’d felt he could’ve pounded nails with that part of his body. But he’d pounded himself into her instead, his hard length surrounded by her tight, hot wetness which, even in memory, made the blood rush to fill what was between his legs.

  “Okay, we’re almost there,” she started, interrupting his salacious musings by pointing out the obvious. “Do you want to do the begging or shall I?”

  “Begging?”

  “Well, that’s what it may come to if Pete doesn’t want to help us.” Her words held a modicum of logic he hadn’t considered because on his home planet of Nutrol if a neighbor asked for help, it was given without reservation. Not so on Earth. “Why don’t you start, big guy. Then if he puts up a fuss, I’ll step in. Does that work for you?”

  “Why would it not?” He didn’t understand what point she was trying to make in her roundabout way.

  She waved one of her hands in a circle and muttered, “You know. The whole ‘I’m a dude and can handle it all’ thingy. I just don’t want you to get all pissed and shit if I can sway him if you can’t.”

  Is that how she saw him? As just another human male who got angry if a woman was able to do what he could not? “I will not, as you say, get all pissed and shit if you can persuade Pete to loan us a transport.”

  Stopping on the sidewalk she looked at him directly for the first time that morning and nodded. “I’m glad, babe. Now let’s go whine for wheels.”

  He nodded but didn’t have any idea why his traveling companion felt they needed the alcohol of grapes in order to trade Pete for a vehicle.

  *.*.*.*.*

  The male before him, puffed up with some kind of deluded self-importance was almost unrecognizable as the leader of the medical team from the Searcher. In fact, Bronsyn wondered how Dr. Jyrl had been able his hide his true nature from one and all on the trip to Earth.

  Because if the medico had approached either him or any of the warriors with the attitude currently on display, there on the patio nearest the main house, the male would still be bruised from the beatings.

  “I repeat, I and my team are here with the explicit permission of Commander Stege, Supreme Leader of the Quest Committee in order to set up an operating theater.” Though Bronsyn was taller, Jyrl’s chin was lifted to such a haughty height he could actually see up the man’s nostrils.

  “Since our residence is not under the auspices of the Committee and has been rented with our own funds, I deny you the right of entry,” Bronsyn replied, keeping his voice even but firm. He’d been trying to sound bored as well, but found his hearts were racing too fast to affect such a ruse.

  Jyrl’s face began to redden as he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times without any words.

  “If you have trouble with our commander’s refusal, perhaps you should go back to Stege and come up with another plan.” Tyshar stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bronsyn, blocking the door into their residence which gave an even stronger indication the doctor would not enter. Not if anyone of them had anything to say about it.

  “Why do you want to set up a med room here, anyway?” Arbrynt asked from Bronsyn’s other side.

  Jyrl turned his head to glare at the warrior and waited a couple of beats before deigning to answer. Brushing off an invisible piece of lint from the cuff of his uniform, he ground out, “In order that I may immediately enact the rysling with the human females you provide.”

  “So the order has been reinstated?” Bronsyn knew the wheels of politics were slow and couldn’t imagine both Galaxia’s Herald and Nutrol’s Conclave reaching approval so quickly.

  The doctor had the grace to look away before answering. “Not exactly. But we need to be prepared to act the very moment the approval is announced.”

  “If it happens, you mean.” Gyard’s growl was so deep and threatening, Jyrl paled and took an involuntary step back, eyeing the large male who stood on the other side of Arbrynt. “And until we are notified of the approval neither you nor any of your crew will enter our domicile without my commander’s approval.”

  “Do you always allow your underlings such freedom to express themselves?” Jyrl’s question was asked on a sanctimonious sniff, almost as if to cover the fear he saw trembling in the man’s hands. “I’ve heard too much familiarity with the brutes breeds contempt within the ranks.”

  Bronsyn didn’t feel it necessary to give much of an explanation. “We speak as one voice on this subject.”

  For more than a few moments no one said a word. That was until Laxon spoke. “I have a question though, if I may?”

  At Jyrl’s supercilious nod, Bronsyn fought back the urge to slap some sense into Stege’s minion.

  “As I understand it, we are no longer on a mate search but instead to find human females, entice them back to our home where you will harvest their egg-sacs. Is that correct?” The tension in the air as Laxon laid out their new orders was thick and, at least to Bronsyn’s mind, edged in barely contained violence. “From what we have discovered about the humans, no female in their right mind would ever willingly agree to such an act.”

  “What you speak of is simply the bare bones of the plan.” Jyrl glanced at his crew who stood behind him and were avidly following the conversation with bright eyes. “Your females will be anesthetized before the procedure and then given a short-term memory loss drug. They will remember n
othing of what transpired and perhaps not even you, if the treatment goes as planned.”

  Bronsyn flexed his jaw in order to prevent his roar of outrage to escape.

  “The mandate may even include those sex-workers for hire who advertise online and offer come to the male, so we may obtain as many ovum as possible.”

  That was the final straw in Bronsyn’s opinion and he didn’t hold himself back. “Get off our property!”

  “B-but…” Jyrl’s gaze roamed the line of the burly warriors as if looking for an ally. Bronsyn knew the man wouldn’t find one.

  “He gave you an order, Dr. Jyrl.” Gyard rumbled and Jyrl swallowed at the evident threat in its tone. “Do you want us to escort them, Commander? They don’t seem to be moving very quickly.”

  “Absolutely,” Bronsyn ground out, staring deeply into the doctor’s eyes. “And if they refuse, feel free to use any means necessary to make them comply.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just as before there were no customers currently in or around Pete’s gas station which made our goal a little bit better. In the vein of, I knew if push came to shove I could flash a little green in order to convince the man to let us borrow his car. Although Wyst seemed to be holding up his end of the conversation as I walked the length of the four aisles comprising the mini-mart portion of Pete’s establishment. Actually the man had a good thing going; what with the gas station and auto repair but when you added in the mini-mart I bet he did a shitload of business when the bikers came to town.

  And the little store had quite a nice selection of goods: cold drinks, beer, a vast collection of snacks along with two sides of one aisle given over to grocery staples. He even had a small selection of first aid stuff and as I spied it, my heart began to thump in my chest. I’d thought to cover my wahrom with long sleeves, but I’d already caught myself automatically reaching to push them up and out of the way many times that morning. So I knew as camouflage, sleeves were, like, freaking useless.