Withdrawing, he nuzzled her neck and rolled onto his side where he rested. Sound came back to her. Reality returned. She grew aware of the deepening sunlight streaming through the cave entrance. It was getting late.
Turning her head, she watched as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. A face that would never solidify to where she could see it in detail. Long ago, she had decided to believe he was wearing some sort of mask. A mask he couldn't remove for whatever reason.
"Zon will be back soon. You must go."
"What will he do to me if he finds me here?" He smiled again. His eyes were dark.
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. Please. Go."
"And return later?"
It was her turn to smile. "Yes. Please."
She could tell he was reluctant to pull his clothes back on, and even more reluctant to leave her. But he understood why he had to. Emmala didn't believe that Zonaton would kill him. Yet she knew in her heart the geron would try to keep him away for fear he would try to hurt her. She didn't know what she would do if or when Zonaton discovered her secret. She hoped she never had to find out, the same way she wanted more of what this strange man could do to her.
Getting on one knee, he waited for her to sit up before kissing her goodbye. Cupping her cheek, he ran a thumb over her lips. "I will return."
"Promise?"
"With my life."
Lifting a curl from where it partially covered one breast, he twirled the strand until it made a tufted tip at the end. She watched him, mesmerized by the sight of him twisting the lock, until he brushed her nose with it, tickling her, and finally eliciting a smile. "There. Better. I would rather leave you with a smile than a frown."
He stood, and she watched as he left the cave and vanished into the light. Once he was gone, she rolled herself up in the pallet and went to sleep.
* * *
Zonaton remained crouched in the farthest corner of the cave, his hands tightly clenched, as he watched Emmala's breathing slow. Her needs were becoming more and more insistent, which meant he had to provide her with some form of release. But the dreams took a toll on him. The emotional toll he could tolerate. However, the mental toll also affected his own physical reactions, and those reactions were the ones he both detested...and enjoyed.
When Emmala orgasmed, so did he, although they were separated by several meters. Every touch, every whisper they shared vibrated through his body, as though she was actually loving him in return, and he vainly fought to keep himself grounded.
He never realized how deeply her response to these dreams would affect him. In some ways, to him she was still the little girl with the bruised body and soul. But he also knew she was now a vibrant and sensuous young woman, whose need for physical love was growing at a rapid rate. So much so, he was finding himself having to send her these dreams with increased frequency. Almost nightly.
Zonaton sighed with regret. What he wouldn't give to be able to love her the same way her dream lover did. What he wouldn't give to be able to approach her and offer himself.
What he wouldn't give...
Crotirum
The Elders are concerned and asked that I speak with you, Zonaton.
About what?
Your actions with your Paired.
What occurs between me and Emmala is none of their concern. Ours is a true Pairing. We have proven it many times.
You are correct. You have, and you are. But they feel these more recent and personal aspects that have developed between you should be toned down.
If you are speaking about the sexual nature between us, do not go any further. It is none of their business, nor is it any of yours.
You are feeding her dreams―
I am feeding her. Period. I fulfill her physical needs with food and shelter, and I fulfill her emotional needs with those dreams. I fulfill all of her needs. I keep her happy and content, and in return she becomes the conduit by which I help protect our world. Now leave me alone, Crotirum. Leave us both alone.
I wish I could, but I find myself agreeing with the Elders.
Who have never been Paired. None of them have, including you. How would they know what should and should not be allowed?
She is alien to our world.
Exactly. She is a human. They are sexual beings. Her needs are strong, just like her strengths.
Calm your anger, Zonaton. I am the vessel by which they speak. I did not suggest nor make this doctrine.
Doctrine? They've made it a doctrine? Zonaton turned on the geron with undisguised irritation. By what right do they have to tell me what I can and cannot do with my Pair? When have they experienced what I experience? None of you have felt the elation and contentment that Emmala and I derive from it. When they have Paired with their own True, until they know the extent of a Pairing, then they can dictate their so-called doctrine to me!
Zonaton, you are risking too much.
What do you mean, I am risking too much? Risking what? Separation? Are they threatening to unPair us? You go tell them that if they try to do anything to harm Emmala, or attempt to break our True Pair, I will personally appear before the Elders and destroy them. Go tell them that! I will destroy anyone who tries to take Emmala away from me!
Zonaton.
Go! Tell them!
Chapter Seven
The Meeting
Emmala watched the comings and goings in the village below. The village she knew as Genesis, but which the gerons referred to as Brytor. The gerons had a name for everything on the planet. A single name. There were no shades, no variations, and no similarities within their mental language. One word equaled one object, action, or nuance. She liked it that way as there was no misunderstanding whenever she communicated with Zonaton, or he with her.
Sitting on the big round boulders bordering the ledge, her new brown clothes blended perfectly into the background, making her virtually invisible from a distance. Yet she could easily see people going about their daily tasks as she waited. Tiny figures weaving in and out of their homes, or walking to and from the village square.
Sometimes she used to feel a wistfulness, the desire to belong, to go down there and join them. Until she remembered why she had been so eager to leave, and then the desire to be among others of her kind evaporated.
The sound of the wind in his wings alerted her to the geron's arrival, but she didn't turn to look at him. She waited until Zonaton pressed the side of his face against her hip. Reaching through the thick roll of skin covering his long neck, she found his vulnerable spots and scratched around the scales' hard edges. The geron rubbed her outer thigh with his beak, his eyes closed as ripples of happiness vibrated through her. After a few more moments, he lifted his head.
Are you ready?
"Yeah. Are there any others coming with us?"
No. The Elders say this is solely our mission.
Zonaton tilted his head to gaze down at her. The golden color slowly faded from his crystal eyes as he gathered himself. She'd learned long ago that, depending on his mood, his eyes took on a particular shade to reflect his emotions. When he was happiest, they could be the brightest yellow.
This should not take long. The storm is fast approaching, and I want to get you in a safe location, out of its fury, before it arrives.
She nodded, then climbed aboard his shoulders. The geron shoved away from the ledge and kept to the updrafts until he reached the community. By the time they circled the village square, people had noticed them and were starting to gather. Zonaton angled downward, using his wings to halt their rapid descent the last hundred or so meters.
For a long minute, Emmala scanned the sea of faces, noticing the complex emotions they revealed. A few were angry, which she could not understand. Several were fearful, which was to be expected. But the large majority appeared curious as to why they had come. She felt the knots in her stomach tighten as they drew nearer.
Do not fear, Emmala. I will keep you safe.
"I know, but I can't help mys
elf. What if—" Her rising dread was soothed with a wave of affection from the geron.
They landed in the center of the square. Immediately, the villagers began to press inward. They backed off slightly when Zonaton lifted his wings, and they remained at a distance.
"Shall I get down?" she silently inquired the geron.
It is up to you.
Between her thighs she could feel his body heat soaking through her pants. The wind was a bit chilly, and she wished she could cuddle in Zonaton's protective embrace. Brushing her hair away from her face, she addressed the crowd.
"Good people of Genesis, my name is Emmala. We have come to warn you of possible danger."
An older man threaded his way through the crowd and stepped forward. The hair on his head and in his short beard were streaked with gray. His eyes remained on Zonaton as he addressed them. "My name is Portesis. I'm the head councilman of this village. Let's go inside our meeting hall where it's warmer, and discuss this." He gestured toward a large, one-story building sitting at the far end of the square.
Emmala gave his skin a slight tug. "Can you fit in there?"
I can try. Either way, the man has a point. I would prefer you get out of this wind.
A quick check over her shoulder showed the blood-red clouds roiling in the distance. The speed of the storm's approach was noticeable. Zonaton called it a rain of fire because of the way the droplets sizzled and threw up tiny clouds of steam when they struck the ground and surrounding rock.
Sliding off his shoulders, she wrapped her arms around herself and followed the councilman into the building. The rest of the villagers tagged along, mindful to keep their distance from the geron.
Fortunately, the ceiling inside the building was high enough to allow Zonaton to sit comfortably with having to bend his neck. He took his usual stance in one corner, perching on his bare bottom and locking his arms around his drawn-up knees. Emmala noticed he had deliberately chosen that location in order to keep an eye on the door, and the comings and goings of the villagers. Inadvertently, her gaze dropped to the veil of scales that covered his genitalia. When she was young, she remembered being told about how the first settlers had wondered if the gerons were sexless, or perhaps hermaphroditic. She knew now that they could withdraw their reproductive organs within their body cavities. Ordinary outsiders still had difficulty distinguishing the males from the females, but to her it wasn't hard.
Portesis waved toward a high-backed chair and parked himself in a similar one next to it. Before she could speak, two more men joined them, drawing up their own seats beside the councilman. There was no introductions exchanged to identify them, leaving her to assume they must be more council members.
"Tell us about this danger," Portesis requested.
"They're strangers. Miners. They're located over by the prehalg, on the far side of the mountain."
"What is a prehalg?" one of the other men asked.
"It's a..." She lifted a hand, searching for another word, when an image formed in her mind. "You know that huge hole past the walking field?"
"You mean the crater?" Portesis translated.
"Yes! The crater. The really, really big one near the mountains."
By this time, people were filling the building to capacity, standing silently as there were no other chairs, and watching. As always, there was an invisible circle around Zonaton, as if someone had drawn a ring on the floor to distance themselves just beyond reach of his arms, beak, and wings. The villagers were cautiously keeping up their guard.
The other councilman spoke up. "Why haven't any of the other gerons come to warn us?"
"The Elders said only Zonaton and I should come."
"Zonaton?" Portesis glanced at the geron. "Is that its name?"
Emmala frowned. "His name is Zonaton, and he's very intelligent. Please show respect and treat him as such." She looked back at the creature, who mentally smiled at her.
"Why would you...two...be ordered to warn us, and not anyone else?"
"Because I came from here." Truthfully, she was guessing that was the real reason. Zonaton had not told her the question or try to discover the reason why the Elders had made their decision, and she knew he would not have asked them himself.
"If the strangers are at the crater―" began one councilman, when the other interrupted him.
"Wait. You say they're miners. Human miners?"
"No. They're from another world."
"How do you know? Did you meet with them?" Portesis inquired.
Emmala shook her head. "No, but Zonaton told me they've been here before. They attacked the gerons, but were driven off the planet. By coming back here, there is the possibility the aliens could attack the villages. You'll need to send word to the other towns, if they haven't already been notified."
"But you said they were miners. Why would they attack our villages?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. But apparently the Elders believe they're enough of a threat to justify warning you."
One of the councilmen gave a derisive snort. "Why would the gerons worry what happens to us? You'd think they'd be excited about the possibility of having us killed or forced off this planet."
She gave him a hard stare. "That's not true," she snapped. "The gerons are fiercely adamant with regards to preserving life."
"Which is why they make our children take The Walk every year," the other council member sneered with undisguised sarcasm.
A voice from behind the councilmen called out. "How do we know the gerons aren't planning some kind of attack on us?"
"Yeah!" another voice joined in. "After all you're in cahoots with them already!"
Emmala started to reply when there came a commotion coming from within the crowd. Fearful for Zonaton's safety, she got to her feet and backed away from the councilmen, toward the geron. She knew he could defend himself without her help. Still, she felt protective of the creature.
"Emmala!"
The crowd parted enough to allow an older man to shoulder his way through them, halting in front. His eyes froze for several seconds on the immense creature sitting at one end of the room, before he jerked his gaze away to look at her.
"Emmala?"
She studied the man as her memory of him from so long ago slowly fit together the bits and pieces she thought she'd lost in the passing years. He had changed, but not enough to keep her from recognizing him.
"Papa?"
A smile of relief and joy spread over his face as he held out his arms. She walked over to him and allowed him to hold her tightly against him.
"Emmala. My little Emmala."
Papa was not as tall as she remembered. In fact, she was nearly as tall as he was. Her chin almost cleared his shoulder.
He hugged her hard. Lifting her hands, she placed them around his waist and tried to reciprocate. After another enthusiastic squeeze, he released her and stepped back, cupping one palm against her cheek. He studied her from top to bottom, brushing away her hair that threatened to cover her eyes.
"You look like your mother. You always have." The comment, although sincere, was like a blow to her stomach. Weakly, she managed to smile.
"Where is Mommy? Is she here?"
"She's outside with Markeem."
Emmala gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Markeem?"
Papa chuckled. "Your little brother."
"Has he taken The Walk yet?"
"Yes. Yes, he has, and he finished it." Her father checked to see if Zonaton had moved from his position, but she already knew he hadn't. She would have felt it if he had.
She also looked back at the geron. During the entire time they had been inside the meeting hall, she hadn't received a thought or emotion from the creature. Although she wasn't bothered by the lack of communication, the extended silence did worry her. This wasn't like him. Even when he was away from her, his presence remained within her, inside her mind and heart. She caught the alien's eyes, and noticed they were a bright blue. He was fearful.
"Come.
She wants to see you."
Papa took her hand and pulled her into the crowd. Reluctantly, Emmala allowed him to lead her outside. People patted her as she passed by them. There were smiles on their faces as they greeted her and welcomed her back.
Mommy was standing just beyond the outer doors. A younger male version of Emmala, except with lighter hair, stood by the woman's side. Tears rolled down Mommy's face and her lower lip trembled.
"Emmala."
As Papa had done, she was pulled into her mother's arms. The woman sobbed, wetting Emmala's shirt. Next to her, the little brother stared wide-eyed at the older sibling he'd never met until now.
Mommy grasped her shoulders and leaned back. A weak smile etched her face. "How are you doing? Are you well? Are you getting enough to eat?" Mommy's hands felt her upper arms. "Is that thing treating you well?"
Emmala nodded, her smile stiff on her lips. "I'm fine, Mommy."
The woman sniffed. "Why haven't you come to see us?"
Papa immediately stepped forward. "Kell, don't."
"No. No. I want to know. Emmala, why haven't you come to see us? It's been fifteen years. Is that thing deliberately keeping you away from us?"
"Kell."
Mommy ignored him. Giving Emmala a little shake, she persisted in questioning her. "Answer me, Em. Are you deliberately being kept away from us?"
"No." She shook her head and tried to extricate herself, but her mother's grip was firm. "No. Zonaton isn't keeping me away."
"Zonaton?" Her mother's expression hardened, and Emmala felt a twinge of fear go through her. "Why did you name him that?"
"I didn't. That's his name."
"They have names?" Mommy made a face to show she didn't believe her. "Never mind. You haven't answered my first question. Why won't you come see us? We're still you're family. It's not right for you to stay away."
Zonaton Page 4
