by Poppy Rhys
Did her victors even notice?
Her fingers tightened on Jruviin’s feathers in a knee-jerk reaction to anchor herself to one of the safest beings there.
The line moved.
When they reached the window, two large bowls were handed to Jruviin. He hesitated, as if expecting something else.
“Are you forgetting something?” Val’Koy asked from behind her, directing his question to the bipedal service individual with a thorny yellow exoskeleton. Its three eyes blinked out of sync as it regarded her momentarily.
“Only fighters get food,” it buzzed. “Next!”
Val’Koy rumbled, making the thorny alien step back. Her scalp pulled tight at the feel of a provoked predator at her back.
“I’m not hungry,” Dania quickly whispered. It was a lie, but living another day felt more important than food right now.
A span of seconds went by where she thought he might ignore her entirely, but soon enough he walked away with her in tow as Jruviin deftly passed her lead to Val’Koy. He guided her to the back of the courtyard, lowering his frame on an empty bench.
“Eat,” he commanded when Jruviin sat down too and pushed a bowl into her hands.
Dania looked down. The bowl swam with a brown stew, and she wondered what the floaty, misshapen gray mounds were.
“It’s okay.” She gulped, trying to hand the dish back to him. “I’m not hungry.”
She didn’t like lying, but he had to be famished after the arena fight. She didn’t see how many opponents there were, but all the blood and chunks of flesh coating them afterward was a decent indication it hadn’t been a walk in the park.
“No,” he pushed the bowl back, his brow almost quizzical, “I said eat.”
Dania eyed the bowl again, picking up the spoon and poking the mounds. She was reminded of how he spoke to her when they first met on Dor Nye. He was kind of bossy, like he was used to getting his way.
They were keeping her alive though—and she was fortunate considering the downright frightening individuals around them—so she didn’t feel it was right to complain.
Don’t sweat the small stuff.
She lifted the spoon to her mouth, tasting the thickened broth. Bland, but it didn’t make her want to retch. For the sake of trying, she spooned a few mouthfuls of the thick broth before handing the bowl back.
He glowered.
“I’m full.” She swallowed, and his eyes—back to diamond shaped pupils—flicked to her throat in a flash. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, but she didn’t think he’d call her bluff either. He had to survive too.
He begrudgingly took the bowl, his jagged, bitten claws grazing her fingers in the transfer. Dania’s lips twitched, but her mild amusement was short lived when Jruviin pushed his bowl into her hands next.
“I said I’m full,” she groaned.
“Though you are small compared to us,” he indicated himself and Val’Koy, “it is hard to believe your ample flesh does not require more sustenance than three spoonf—”
Dania squeaked, eyes bugging, causing Jruviin to immediately perk up.
“Is something wrong?” he instantly queried, chin dipping as he assessed her body. “An allergic reaction? Do you require medi—”
“Listen,” Dania interrupted, her situation and unease momentarily forgotten at the ugly memory of her ex body shaming her, “you can’t just say that to a fat girl.” She pointed a finger at Jruviin’s chest. “I can talk about what my body does and doesn’t need. You can’t. Understand?”
Dania panted, her heart racing and her eyes wide with the sudden, and thrilling, realization that she’d just stood up for herself after so much time spent bending her neck to her captors.
Be still. Be quiet. Don’t bring unwanted attention to yourself—words she’d lived by since her abduction.
Jruviin’s gaze slowly raised until he was looking over her head at Val’Koy as if confused.
“No,” Val’Koy replied instead, shaking his head. “I do not. You do need more sustenance.”
Chill out, girl.
They probably didn’t mean anything by it, but after the Terry thing, she just immediately jumped to conclusions. These aliens were trying to feed her, not telling her she shouldn’t be eating.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” She sheepishly shrugged her shoulders and smoothed the front of her makeshift dress. “People have been telling me my whole life how much I should or shouldn’t eat.”
And aliens apparently want to eat me. Or so Wallie’s dad said.
The silence stretched as the aliens went back to eating. Before long, Jruviin was offering his bowl again. He declared, “I believe I appreciate fat girls.”
Seemingly not to be outdone, Val’Koy immediately chimed in, shooting Jruviin a narrowed glare. “I, too, appreciate fat girls.”
The heat of embarrassment that washed over her entire body was scorching. When the corner of Val’Koy’s lips curved up at one side—the knowing glint in his eye of their euphoric night together—her curls nearly lit on fire.
She wanted to crawl under the bench and hide. Instead, she accepted the bowl from Jruviin and fixated on the brown stew as if it held the answers to the universe while she spooned tasteless mouthfuls.
Even though Dania knew she probably looked like a human torch, considering how hot her skin flamed, she couldn’t deny that she felt relieved. Her world might not end if she got to stay with Jruviin and Val’Koy.
She didn’t want to think about the alternative.
TWENTY
DANIA
Alien strangers glanced at her with antennae and strange eyeballs as Val’Koy and Jruviin guided her through the city once more.
Since she was raised a nomad, she’d planet hopped since she was young, but she’d never seen so many different species in one place. A black blob with white eye clusters oozed by, causing Dania to cover her mouth and nose at the putrid smell that lingered in its wake.
She hoped Val’Koy couldn’t feel her fingers jitter as she held onto his tail and followed him. The men had switched places and Jruviin was now at her back while Val’Koy gripped her leash. It wasn’t that she was afraid—well, sort of—more anxious. Dania had never been to a dark pleasure planet before. She’d heard rumors of the hostile worlds that were full of illegal games, but wouldn’t even know how to find one
If he felt her tremoring fingers, maybe he’d think she was cold. Already she could feel the chill of night creeping in as the never-ending storm above the dome grew darker, casting the city in shadows where the glow of solar street lights and ghostly neon shop signs didn’t reach.
Steam and smoke rose from light-speckled black buildings and the street vendor stations, as they stoked fires and boiled liquids in blackened pots. Dania didn’t want to know what they were cooking.
Camera drones whirred through the narrow brick streets where only people walked, no transports in sight.
They passed a rough, furry looking guard with a beam lash in his hand, coiled, but she doubted it would take more than a few seconds to unfurl and strike. His one good red eye pinned her until she looked away.
“Why are there so many camera drones?” she asked, watching another one zoom past.
“To prevent us from fighting outside the arena,” Jruviin supplied, arm shooting out to block a bulky orange alien from swaying into her as they passed. “Raising our fists anywhere else could be a death sentence.”
“Why?”
“Money,” he stated. “Fighting where the subscribers cannot see you, where the depraved crowd cannot watch, is a waste of flesh. Sponsors make no credits off city street brawls.”
Val’Koy glanced over his shoulder at her. “No money for the sponsors, no money for the fighters. It trickles down.” He turned around to watch where he was going, but she could hear him. “Shop owners, street vendors, and traders will all feel the loss and take their business elsewhere.”
“That would hurt the city,” Jruvi
in added. “What is bad for the city, is bad for the sponsors. They are guests here of the Drinish people. It comes full circle.”
Directly ahead loomed leviathan, gray stone walls, on both sides of the main path, that soared high above. They were mottled with row after row of carved out cavities. Individuals scaled the walls, diving into the dens. Very few solar lights dotted the wide, dividing path. It was darker here.
“Where are we?” she exhaled, head cranking back as she gaped.
“The ‘Trenches’,” Jruviin answered. “This is where we rest.”
Val’Koy reached one of the many ladders that stretched from bottom to top, bolted into the stone, and paused.
****
VAL’KOY
From his observation of Therran’s, he’d noticed most lacked a certain finesse. Dania was... clumsy. Her footfalls were easily detectable, and he imagined she’d be unable to sneak up on anyone with decent hearing.
Could she even make it up the ladder? Their den was ten rows up. There were no ledges, there were no walkways. Only ladders.
Val’Koy glanced upward at his den, then looked back down at the human’s feet.
He wouldn’t risk it.
“Climb onto my back,” he proposed, crouching down before her. “It will be easiest this way.”
Dania made an awkward sound in her throat. He looked over his shoulder at her.
“You lack the balance I possess, and muscle density to carry your body weight to such a height.” A single finger pointed upward, indicating their den.
Her cheeks bloomed red again, and her full, pinkened lips thinned. He’d come to understand she did this in reaction to embarrassment, anger, and during pleasure. Judging by her pinched brows, he surmised she was feeling irritation.
Therrans. Confusing species.
“Rude,” she mumbled beneath her breath, her shoulders hunching, and the red spreading to the rest of her face and throat.
Val’Koy swiftly remembered their conversation about fat girls. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jruviin interrupted by placing Dania’s dangling lead into her palm and asking, “Do you need help, Dania?”
“No, I can do it. Thanks.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone say he was rude, though this time around, he didn’t mean it that way. Were all human females so sensitive about their bodies?
He pointed to his back, urging her to climb on.
“If you complain about a back ache later,” she warned, draping her arms around his neck, and her soft legs around his middle, “I’ll not be held liable for my actions.”
Did she just threaten him?
Val’Koy’s tail twitched side to side and he smirked. Upward he vaulted, climbing the ladder quickly. He felt her warm breath fan his ear, and a chill, not wholly unpleasant, raked over his skin.
She smelled good.
Better than good. Her pheromones made his fingertips itch and his mouth salivate. So close was she, he could scent her like never before. It nearly made him lose grip on the ladder and veer his focus off scaling the rock face.
Her thighs tightened around him, and she made a low whine as her nails scraped the scales under his throat.
Val’Koy nearly lost his grip once more.
Her hand was only inches from where she’d dug her blunt nails into his chest when they’d fucked. A dominant move that nearly buckled his knees.
With haste, he scurried the rest of the way up, claws catching the stone as he scuttled sideways and crawled into the dark den. It was barely high enough for him to stand up in. A crude stone hovel with no power sources for lighting, but deep enough that he and Jruviin could stretch out and rest.
They had little in the way of possessions. Simply extra clothing piled in the corner that doubled as a pillow. Dania slid off his back, crawling away from the edge before turning and peeking back out.
She made a spooked sound. “That’s a really long way down.”
“Yes,” he agreed, nodding once. “Do not fall.”
A strained huff. “I’ll do my best.”
Val’Koy’s lips pulled at the corner again, liking the lilt of sarcasm he detected in her tone. The gesture was almost foreign. It was rare when he smiled these days, but his teammate succeeded in his efforts more often than not.
Jruviin crawled in and stood, his head ducked as he moved to the back of the den to lay down his weapons.
“So,” she began, sitting against the crudely carved wall and wrapping her arms about her legs, “did that bug guy from the showers want to fight you?”
“No.” As Val’Koy stretched out near the edge he could see how her eyes were widened, seemingly unable to see very well in the dark and he was reminded of humans’ poor sight.
“What did he want, then?”
The Mantrin offered to spew on her to make fucking extra nice for Val’Koy, since their semen was an aphrodisiac to many beings. The idea of a stranger marking Dania made him unusually annoyed.
“You do not want to know.”
The idea of sex with her brought about an old, yet familiar, sensation. Briefly, he grumbled to himself for not getting off in the showers. He didn’t think he’d ever been without a female this long since he discovered what his annex could do, but he’d had other thoughts on his mind then.
“Water?” Jruviin offered a pouch to Dania who thanked him and drank.
The silence stretched until the Therran broke it.
“I’m sorry.”
Val’Koy frowned. “About?”
She picked at her clothing. “I’m sorry you thought you had a son.”
The figurative rug was pulled out from under him again, and the faceless youngling he’d built up in his mind for so long continued to disintegrate and fade.
Val’Koy’s teeth clenched, his throat tightened, and instantly, he silently mourned for the death of a son who’d never existed.
****
DANIA
She knew it either wasn’t the right time or the right thing to apologize for, but it just came out.
“Not your fault,” he rumbled, voice gravelly, and eyes watching something outside the den.
Jruviin leaned in, his hands calmly inching toward her neck. He deftly removed the collar, the feathered back of his hand unexpectedly brushing her jaw when he withdrew, causing her to flinch.
“Are you scared?”
“You haunted me,” Dania blurted, causing the feathered alien to stiffen. “I’ve seen you before. In my apartment.” Her voice had lowered to barely a whisper. “You came to me every night, but I’d never seen your face until today.”
He set down the collar nearby and sank to his haunches before her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Impossible,” he denied. “I have been here for...” he trailed off as if silently counting. “For many rotations.”
Dania knew she made no sense. She wouldn’t believe it if the tables were turned. Her fingers pulled at the dress’s frayed hem.
“I thought you were a ghost,” she explained and then rolled her eyes at herself. “Sounds silly now that I know the Trepnil leader had my optical nanos hacked.” Dania tapped the corner of her left eye. “Maybe my nanos were fed footage from the camera drones here.”
Now that she thought of it, she was almost sure.
“All the disgusting things I witnessed, how I saw you, and even him,” she indicated Val’Koy who stared at her now. “It makes sense.” And gave her a bit of relief. Having an explanation, no matter how outlandish it sounded, was better than the unexplained.
“I apologize for frightening you,” Jruviin softly spoke, his hoarse voice floating over her and causing goosebumps to raise on her arms. “I mean you no harm,” he added, holding up his palms.
He apologized for something he didn’t intentionally do and had no control over. Didn’t even know it was happening.
“That’s nice,” Dania ducked her head, “but you didn’t know. It’s silly to say sorry.”
Somehow it vanished—the lingering
threads of skittish hesitation she experienced whenever she looked at him.
She whispered, “Thank you.”
Jruviin smoothly nodded once and moved to the edge of the den to sit opposite Val’Koy. How they sat that close to the edge so calmly boggled her.
“It must be nice to be reunited with your mate.” Jruviin arced an arm toward Val’Koy.
Dania straightened at the same time Val’Koy shifted. “No,” she shook her head. “He’s not—we’re not...” Her face went warm again. “It was just the one time...”
Jruviin eventually nodded as if he understood. “My people often couple for offspring too. It is not always fruitful.”
At that, Val’Koy’s tail thumped and flicked against the stone just like a ro’catta that was pissed. Dania’s brows pinched. “No, it wasn’t for—it was just for fun.”
“An experiment,” Val’Koy hoarsely interjected.
His words were iced. They stabbed at her. She had known it was only a one-night stand but they’d had fun, right? But the manner in which he said it made her feel used.
She didn’t like the reminder that he’d been the last person she was intimate with. Apparently she’d become more jaded after Terry than she realized.
“It is enjoyable for Therran females?” Jruviin’s tone was curious, and it diverted her attention from the icky self-pity hole she almost let herself fall into.
“Well, yeah...” she drawled. This conversation had taken a wrong turn. “Wait, your women don’t like sex?”
His crest feathers brushed against his shoulders when he shook his head. “Not at all. It is painful when a female is pierced.”
Dania’s skin got cold. “Uh, what?”
She could just make out the slow blinking of Jruviin’s eyelids. He appeared confused by her question.
“Never mind,” she held up her hands before he could enlighten her. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Sleep,” Val’Koy finally spoke again, some of the chill in his voice gone. “It has been a long day.”
