Barbarian Lover

by Ruby Dixon

  Our snowshoes are simple creations – they’re one long piece of wood twisted into a teardrop shape and lashed together at the heel. Leather has been crisscrossed to make a mesh for the center, and they’re strapped on to the foot. The good news is that they don’t require a lot of construction, so we should be able to take care of them easily.

  Harlow and I pick out a likely tree. It’s a little shorter than we’d like, but if we cut directly at the root, it should be long enough for Claire’s light weight. Harlow picks out a nearby sapling and we both get to work cutting at the stem. The weather’s colder than usual today, with big fat snowflakes falling out of the gray skies. I worry that they’re going to think the weather’s not good enough for us to travel and delay our trip.

  I need to go. Soon. The sooner the better.

  I dig at the snow with my mittens, searching for the root. The ground here, once I dig down far enough to find it, has a curious bluish tinge to it, and I swipe at it in surprise. Just another example of how this place is different from home, I suppose. I clear a bit more of the dirt away, noting ironically that I’ve dug almost two feet down in snow, and we’re on the hillside, which means it’s less deep here than other places. A moment later, I uncover something whitish, and I begin to dig at it.

  This plant doesn’t have a taproot, like I expected. It has a…bulb. Like a turnip? Excited, I dig with my knife and my mittens, ignoring my original task in favor of this new one. By the time I’ve uncovered the plant in its entirety, I’ve found a root-like bulb about the size of a beach ball. It smells woodsy and is whitish in color, and when I heft it onto the snow, Harlow comes over to my side to take a look at it.

  “Is that a potato?” she asks excitedly.

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’s edible?” They only seem to eat meat around here.

  “I’m willing to try it,” she says with a laugh. “I was a vegetarian before. This has been hard for me to adjust to.”

  I’ll bet.

  We saw off the woodsy stem for the snowshoes, and I carry the tuber itself inside, pleased. Maybe we can bring a few aspects of our human diet to these people and increase everyone’s food. I like the thought of contributing instead of just constantly taking.

  That night, we eat slices of roasted root along with our raw meat. The root itself is declared edible by Kemli, an elder woman who is the tribe’s expert on plants. She’s confused why we would want to eat it, but everyone tries out the cooked slices and I see hands reaching for seconds. I’m pleased and happy.

  I’m less pleased when Aehako pulls me aside. “Do you want to delay the trip? It’s growing colder by the hour.”

  “What? No! Don’t be ridiculous. It’s fine.”

  His brows draw together and he nods at the cave entrance. “Come. I’ll show you.”

  I finish my bite of not-potato and head after him. A bitter breeze is coming in from the front of the cave, but I suppose it would just reinforce his decision to stay if I go get my cloak. So I suck it up, cross my arms over my chest, and follow him as he leads me outside into the night air.

  Another foot of snow has fallen since early this afternoon, and the air is definitely colder. Aehako takes a few steps out, and then turns to look at me. “The wind has changed patterns,” he says, gesturing at the sky. “It’s now blowing from the east.” Well, the word he says isn’t east, but that’s what the translator turns it into. “It will hit the mountains and then turn back here, which means even more snow.”

  “So?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “It always snows. What does it matter?”

  He steps back toward me. We’re out of the warm light coming from inside the cave, and it’s darker out here than I expected. I instinctively move closer to the cave wall to block the breeze, and I can’t say I’m sad when Aehako moves in front of me, blocking even more of the chill wind. “Humans are fragile,” he says. “I would not want you to hurt yourself on this journey.” He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from my face. “You may be fierce in spirit, but your body is puny.”

  “Puny?” I sputter, and then give his arm a light smack when I realize there’s a playful grin on his face. He’s teasing me.

  “Your hands are already like ice,” he says, taking my fingers in his. “Even your khui cannot keep up with this kind of cold.” His grip radiates warmth and he pulls my hand to his mouth and blows warm air on it.

  For some reason, this makes my nipples prick. His touch is tender and caring, and the teasing look he gives me is flirty and totally Aehako.

  “We have to go very soon,” I tell him in a soft voice. “It’s imperative.”

  “Something troubles you,” he says, cupping my hand between his and rubbing my fingers to keep them warm. “Will you share with me what it is?”

  Oh God, I really want to. I move closer to him and offer him my other hand so he can give it the same treatment, and he takes it, gently cupping it and then rubbing his fingers on my cold ones to warm them. But if I tell him, will he try to mobilize the others to save me? Their spears and slings won’t do much against aliens with the technology I’ve seen.

  So I come up with a lie. Or a half-lie, anyhow. “I just…worry that the aliens are going to come back. I worry that each day here is going to be our last. That I’m going to wake up tomorrow and find myself back in the alien ship, a captive again.”

  I expect him to give me comforting words. To tell me that it isn’t the case. That I’m safe with him. Instead, he gently blows on my hands again and says, “No one can predict what will happen tomorrow, Kira. I might fall off of a cliff and break my neck. I might catch a khui sickness. Or…I might live to be old and grizzled like Kemli and her mate Borran.” He shrugs his big shoulders. “But I do know that living in fear of what might happen prevents us from enjoying what we have today.”

  Oddly enough, his words make me feel better. I slide a little closer to him, sharing his warmth. “I’m afraid I can’t turn my mind off enough to live in the moment. I wish that I could.”

  “I can show you how,” he murmurs.

  I stare at his mouth, fascinated by the flashes of sharp teeth behind those soft smiling lips. I shouldn’t kiss him. I shouldn’t want to kiss him. My time here is limited. The bad aliens are coming back, and they’re going to come straight for me, because I’m still wearing this stupid earpiece. But I’m so ridiculously attracted to Aehako that it’s insane. I want him to touch me. I want his kisses and his attention. I want to flirt back with him, even though every ounce of my being says that it’s a bad idea.

  Damn it, I want flirting to be a good idea.

  “Life can be sweet, even if you take it one day at a time,” he murmurs, and his fingers go to my tangled hair, brushing it away from my face.

  I lean in to his touch. I can’t help myself. I’ve felt so isolated and alone since we were taken. I want to be able to relax in safety. I want someone to hold me close and tell me that everything’s going to be all right. “I’m afraid I might not have many days left,” I confess to him. My hand covers his, and I hold it to my cheek. He’s careful not to touch the hated translator piece jutting from my ear, but I’m all too conscious of it there. Even now it hums and chirps conversations from inside the cave into my head. I hate that it won’t be quiet. I want silence. I want an end to all the worry and anxiety.

  Aehako leans in and tilts my face up to his. Intention is written over every line of his face. He’s going to kiss me. He’s also moving in slow enough that I can stop him at any time if I don’t want it.

  But I do. So I grab one of his big horns and pull him down closer to me, closing the distance between us. His mouth meets mine, and then we’re hungrily kissing. His mouth slicks over mine, his tongue questing deep into my own mouth, and for a time, I forget all about aliens or the chatter inside. I forget about the translator surgically attached to my ear. I forget about everything but the soft lips of the man kissing me, and his wonderful taste. Of the gentle clash of our teeth when our kiss gets too enthus
iastic. Of the way his tongue coaxes against my own, encouraging me to be just as aggressive as him.

  His hand slides up to my breast and he pushes me back – and to my surprise, I realize I’m pressed up against the cliffside, the smooth rock hard against my spine. His hand goes to my breast, his mouth never lifting from mine. I give a small squeak in surprise against his lips when his thumb grazes my nipple. That small touch sends skitters of pleasure all through my body, jolting nerve endings that I didn’t realize I had. My pulse hammers through me, and I want him to do it again. I break our kiss and stare up at him, panting. “I…”

  “Is it too much?” he asks, voice low and husky and so sexy it makes me want to melt right into the snow. “Are you too cold?” His knuckles lightly trace a trail between my breasts. “Shall we go inside?”

  Once again, he’s letting me lead. I’m more skittish than a fawn, unsure and trembling all at once. I know what I want, but it wars with common sense.

  What if I let myself get attached to Aehako and he resonates to someone else tomorrow? What if the aliens take me away just when I give in to the longing that’s rippling through me?

  His thumb brushes across my swollen lower lip. “One day at a time, Kira,” he murmurs.

  It’s as if he can read my mind. Even if tomorrow goes to hell, we have today. Maybe I need to claim today for myself. Maybe I need to make a few memories to carry me through the bad things that are certain to be ahead.

  So I take his hand in mine and stare down at it. We’re so different, he and I. My skin is the pinkish-white of untanned human flesh; his is the blue of his people, and suede-like in feeling. Three big knuckles lead to three thick, strong fingers tipped with shiny bluish fingernails in blunt squares. My hand looks positively tiny against his, but I don’t feel threatened with him.

  I feel safe. And so I jump.

  “Your hand is cold,” I tell him in a low voice.

  For a moment, disappointment flickers across his normally laughing features. He starts to pull away, seeing my response as a decline of his attentions.

  But I grip his hand, not willing to let it go. Instead, I guide it under my soft leather shirt and place it against my warm stomach, my gaze meeting his.

  I’m letting him know that I want to go on. That I want more of this. More of him. That I’m living for today.

  A low groan rumbles through my translator, and he leans forward, pressing his ridged forehead against my smooth one. “You will undo all my good intentions, Kira.”

  “I didn’t know you had good ones,” I tell him, feeling breathless and a little flirty. This isn’t me, to be a tease. But I like pushing my boundaries with him.

  And I love his response.

  His fingers stroke against my stomach under my shirt, and it feels ticklish. I squirm a bit, and when his nose nudges mine and then his mouth brushes against my lips, I open up for him, accepting his kiss. I want to point out to him that he hasn’t mentioned his good intentions, but they suddenly seem unimportant. I just want more caresses. More touching.

  Aehako’s hand strokes over my ribs and then moves up my shirt, to caress the globe of my breast. I suck in a breath, realizing just how big his hand is. My boob must be positively tiny to him. I think of the big, strong women of his tribe. I’m still a little frail from weeks of starving and captivity. My boobs certainly aren’t what they used to be, and they weren’t super impressive then, either.

  But his fingers trace the curve of one breast and he kisses my lower lip, sucking gently on it. Jesus. For a man that didn’t know how to kiss until yesterday, he’s pretty darn good at it. “You are beautiful, Kira. As delicate as a scythe-beak.”

  The compliment strikes me as a strange one, and a nervous giggle escapes my throat as I picture a killer toucan. Not a sexy mental image. “What’s a scythe-beak?”

  “Shhh,” he says. “It isn’t important.” His thumb brushes over my nipple again, and then circles it.

  I suck in a breath. His touch feels like utter perfection. I close my eyes, my legs weak against the onslaught of sensation. I feel his big arm go around my waist, supporting me even as I sag against the wall. He won’t let me fall. All the while, he presses soft, attentive kisses to my face.

  “Tell me if my touch is too much,” he murmurs and then slicks his mouth over mine.

  It’s never too much. It’s so good that I can hardly think straight. For once, the endless chatter in my earpiece doesn’t seem to matter. All that exists is Aehako’s big body pressing against mine, his arm gripping my waist, and that thumb that drags over my pebble-hard nipple.

  “You are so soft, Kira,” Aehako says, nuzzling at my un-modified ear. He gently bites my earlobe and it sends shivers all through my body. I cling to him, lost in sensation. “Are you this soft everywhere?” he muses. “If I explored you between your legs, would I find you this soft?”

  Oh God. A soft protest rises to my lips and then remains unspoken. I don’t want to stop him. I want him to discover all of me and to keep touching me. I’ve touched myself before, but it’s never felt half as good as his caresses.

  My breath is gasping and ragged as he gently brushes his mouth over mine, and then his hand goes to the waistband of my leggings. It’s a draw-string, since buttons and zippers haven’t been invented here, and I seem to come apart the moment the knot does. My pants slide down my hips a few inches, loose, and my entire body is tense with anticipation.

  His fingers stroke against my belly. “You are allowed to touch me, as well, Sad Eyes,” he says in a low, amused voice.

  Oh. I blink my eyes open and realize my hands are fists curled up against his chest, unmoving. Of course he’d like to be touched, too. I’m such an idiot. I flatten my palms and grasp at his tunic. There are laces at the collar and I fumble with them, ever conscious of his gaze on my face and his hand stroking the soft skin of my lower stomach.

  I don’t know how I’m expected to concentrate with all this going on. So I focus, trying to drown out everything but the task at hand. Operation: Touch Aehako. I pull at the laces of his collar, loosening them until they gape open and reveal an expanse of blue, muscled chest. My hand slides under the fabric and I touch him, surprised to feel the rough texture of more ridges over his heart. I always forget that these aliens have tougher, ridged skin over sensitive parts of the body. “You’re rough here,” I murmur to him, gliding my fingers over the strange patch of skin.

  “And you are so smooth everywhere, are you not? I find it fascinating.” His fingers dip lower and brush against the curls of my pubic hair. “Ah…and this. I forgot about this.”

  My legs automatically squeeze together and I reach to pull his hand away in humiliation. That’s right. The aliens don’t have body hair like humans do. We must be gross to them. “I-I-I…”

  I can’t think of a thing to say. Sorry about the bush? There’s no razor here?

  He ignores my pressure on his wrist and drags a finger through my curls, exploring them. “It’s different than the hair on your head, is it not?” He rubs his mouth over my long bangs, testing them with his lips. “So interesting.”

  “Aehako, please,” I whisper, my face burning. “I just…”

  “Do not be ashamed. I am learning your differences. I like them.” He leans down and kisses my mouth again, then gently tugs on my lower lip and sucks on it. That distracts me and turns me into mush again, and when he releases it, he whispers, “I will add it to my list of sensations to think about when I rub my cock.”

  My eyes widen. He’s going to think about my pubic hair when he jerks off? Why is that so…filthily arousing? I inhale deeply and stare at his big, broad chest again. I could stop him, but…I don’t want to. Despite my embarrassment, I want his exploring hand to go further down, for him to get even more fodder for his spank bank.

  Which is terrible and naughty of me, but I can’t seem to care at the moment.

  I slide my hand sideways into his collar, feeling along one thick pectoral. God, it’s like a slab
of rock. I brush against something hard and realize it’s his nipple. Curious, I drag my fingers over it, exploring. I never thought of my own nipples as soft until I feel his. It’s as rough as the plate-y skin over his heart. So odd.

  “And now you are adding to your sensations, are you not, Kira?” He breathes, his eyes glowing hot. “So you can think of me when you touch yourself in your bunk late at night.”

  I can feel my face growing hot at the thought of doing such a thing. I want to protest that I wouldn’t, but…I’m afraid that’d be a lie. And he’s arrogant enough to assume that I’d be thinking of him.

  Which is also not a lie.

  I bite my lip and pull my hands from his collar, then move to his waistline. I want to keep touching him, but the moment my hands leave the warmth of his clothing, the chill of the outdoors creeps in again. I move under the skirt of his short tunic and brush my fingers over his strong thighs. He wears knee-high boots but there’s bare skin under there that shocks me. It’s like a Scotsman with a kilt, and I wonder if he’s wearing anything under that kilt.

  And I wonder if I’m brave enough to find out.

  His breath hisses out when my fingers drag up one corded thigh muscle. “Keep exploring me, Kira. I don’t intend on stopping with you.” And his mouth captures mine again just as his fingers move lower and touch my folds.

  He groans into my mouth and swallows my gasp of surprise at the touch. With his fingers there, I can feel so many things. I can feel how big his hand is, how thick and blunt his fingers are. How warm his skin is.

  How very, very wet I am between my legs.

  I have no panties on. There’s no leather that makes a good alien panty, and so I’ve learned to go without even though it feels shockingly bare. Right now, though, I’m glad for the lack of panties, because his fingers stroke through my wetness and he groans again. “I bet this tastes like the sweetest nectar.”

  I moan again, my fingers digging into his thigh at the thought of him tasting my juices.

  Aehako’s tongue flicks against mine even as his fingers explore my folds. They drag over my labia, find the entrance to my core that makes me gasp and stiffen, and then glide back up to my clitoris.