by Luna Hunter
The attempted Tyk’ix coup of the Intergalactic Alliance has proven exactly that. We can’t trust anyone in the universe. Falur must rely on Falur alone.
If all that is true, then why do I feel so strange when my gaze rests upon the shapely human female? Why can’t I tear my eyes away? Why does my heart beat so fast, as if I’m coming down with a fever?
Her shapely, curvy body is covered by a beige overall. Despite the baggy and unflattering outfit, her lustful form is clear to me. Her hips are round and curvy, as if they were made to bear young dragonettes. Her large bosom presses against the fabric of her suit, and I cannot help but wet my lips.
Her bright blue eyes, as brilliant as diamonds, look at me with a mixture of fear and awe. Her blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she moves with grace as she walks into the middle of the room. I can’t help but smirk.
What is even more intoxicating than her sight is her smell. The powerful pheromones fill my nostrils and send electrons coursing through my veins, and blood rushing towards my cock.
She is so… different. Falur women are frail and lanky, easily two feet taller than the human female, with slender necks and pointed ears. This female is the opposite; she is all soft curves.
I am supposed to mate with a Falur woman from clan Viktor and solidify the link between our clans. A human female is very much not part of my plans.
“Welcome, welcome,” my father says, speaking the Universal language. I’m surprised – he is even willing to throw our language, our native tongue, overboard? Just to please these outlanders?
“You speak Universal?” the human female says surprised. “Ambassador Vilmar told us to expect only Falurian.”
“Of course I speak Universal,” my father says. “Wouldn’t be a very good host if I didn’t. The good ambassador was correct, however. Don’t expect anyone else to extend you this courtesy.”
The human female is flanked on either side by human males. One tall and bald, with a heavy scar running down the left side of his face. A gun is slung around his shoulder, and judging by his twitchy fingers, he’s scared shitless. His toy weapon is useless, of course. There is no way that the tiny bullets could ever penetrate my armor or even my skin when I shift into my dragon form.
The other man has shaggy dark hair, and he’s noticeably more relaxed.
“This is Fenrir,” my father says. “My son and heir.” I nod at the humans.
“I am Abigail Snow, a translator” the human female says. “And this here are Boris Krupin, my ship’s captain, and Nathan Sweetwood, our chief mining officer.”
The man called Boris clears his throat, folding his trembling hands in his lap.
“I assume Ambassador Vilmar communicated our request?”
Dagur nods. “Yes, yes. As I understand you want to conduct soil experiments here on Audur, to determine the age of the planet. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct,” Boris says. “Colloways Corps, our employer, was contracted by the Human Federation to extract soil samples from deep in the planet’s core… with your permission, of course.”
“I don’t have any issue with that,” my father says. “I’m all for scientific discovery. I look forward to hearing the results, and I’m curious to learn if your findings differ from ours.”
I turn to my father, my brow furrowed in anger. I can feel fire rising in my chest, and my inner-dragon is begging to be released. “Have you lost your marmara?” I breathe in Falurian. “You’re letting them take samples back to Earth? From Audur itself? We can’t trust these mennir!”
“Silence, young one,” my father says. “It is rude to exclude our guests from the conversation.”
My fists ball up. I have to respect and honor his decisions, but he’s testing the very limits of my patience. What he’s doing flies in the face of thousands of years of Falurian politics, of every tradition we hold sacred. This will only strengthen Clan Oskar’s claim to Freya, our sacred mountain. They will challenge us again when the time is right, and this might just tip the scale in their favor.
“Is there a problem?” Boris asks.
“No, not at all,” my father responds. “I was just explaining to Fenrir the duties he will have to perform. For you see, Fenrir will be your contact during your stay on our planet.”
What?!
“If you have any questions or concerns, you can always go to him. He will check on you every day.”
“You are brjaldadur,” I say in our native tongue. “I will not.”
“You will do as you are told, son,” my father says. His eyes light up with fire, and I can tell from his tone that he is deadly serious. “Make yourself useful, instead of fighting pointless duels and getting into trouble. You will assist the mennir, and that is final.”
The human female is watching our discussion with her eyes wide open and her hands clutched to her chest. Can she understand us? No, of course not. No human could dream to grasp the intricacies of our language, not even one as fair as her.
“Sounds good,” Boris says. “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get back to our ship then, make preparations, scout for locations and that sort of thing.”
My father nods. “Of course. Fenrir will escort you down to your shuttle.”
This is not the last word we will speak about this, but now is not the time.
“Come,” I breathe angrily. The sooner this is over the better.
One of our men is still in his dragon-form, waiting to carry the humans down the long, deep shaft. I gesture for the humans to hop on. I think it’s humiliating for any Falur to carry men on their back like a common horse, but there is simply no other way for the humans to get up or down.
“W-wait,” the human female says in clean Falurian. “I don’t want to ride the drekann.”
I pause in my step. Her accent – it’s royal. High Falurian. Without any trace of her inferior humankind to it. Graceful. Elegant. Impossible.
“You must,” I say.
“Isn’t there any other way?”
There is one other way. I could take her soft body into my arms and fly her down myself, feel those curves in my hands, the warmth of her body pressing against mine…
Fuck.
Now I must have that.
I lift her up into my arms easily. Her body is every bit as warm and soft as I imagined it would be, and my cock hardens instantly. She yelps and struggles, but I hold her tightly. “Don’t move,” I say as I spread my wings wide. “Or I might drop you.”
I jump up into the air and soar down into the dark pit, circling downwards. I take my time, savoring every second of the strange human in my arms. She’s frozen in place, too afraid to even breathe. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, her arms clinging to my neck, while my hands are resting firmly on her round, curvy ass. Her warm breath tickles my neck and her intoxicating scent fills my nostrils.
My hard body is pressed against hers, and only a few layers of clothing separate us. I could easily fuck her like this. I only have to tear that overall from her body and release my cock from my armor, and I could sink myself into her – every last inch of me.
Unbridled lust flows through my every vein. I’ve never experienced a sensation like this before. I’ve been attracted to females before, but never this strong, never this intense.
We reach the bottom of the shaft, but I’m not ready to let her go quite yet.
“Where’s your shuttle?”
“Down t-there,” she whimpers.
I kick off again and fly towards her destination, my hands digging deeper into her soft, supple flesh. We soar down the mountain, but my eyes are fixed on Abigail.
“Shouldn’t you w-watch where we’re going?” she asks.
“I can fly on instinct alone.”
Her cheeks are flushed bright red, and I feel her rapid heartbeat against my chest. She avoids my gaze, her eyes shut tight. I study the fine features of her face. She has several freckles on the bridge of her nose; they’re barely noticeable, except from up
close. Her lips are thick and kissable, while her eyebrows frame her almond-shaped eyes perfectly. Her hair is a golden blonde, and it dances in the wind, whipping my face like the warm rays of the sun.
Her beauty is unique and mesmerizing. I’ve never seen a woman like her before, but I already know I will never forget her face.
We arrive at her shuttle sooner than I like. It’s a primitive design, clunky and oblong, but functional. I feel like I’ve only just begun studying Abigail’s features, and I wish we had more time. There are so many more inches of her body I feel drawn to explore, that I feel the need to see, to feel, to taste.
I’m very tempted to keep her in the air, to prolong this moment for as long as possible, but I sense she’s terrified of flying. I lower her to the ground, and she breathes a sigh of relief when I release her from my grip.
We stand there in silence for a moment, our eyes locked. I’m certain she feels it as well, this passion, this heat. The unspoken connection we seem to have. I fight the strange urge to kiss her, to claim her, to take her right here in the grass. What’s gotten over me? I’m acting like a young drekkan whose wings have just come in, driven mad with mating fever.
I growl angrily at myself and kick off, soaring up into the sky, higher and higher, until Abigail is nothing more but a speck in the distance. I’ve only been home less than a day, and already I’m left angry and confused.
Before I met Abigail I was totally ready to hate these mennir, but now, I’m not sure about anything anymore…
5
ABIGAIL
FENRIR IS ALL OVER ME.
He’s in my head, my soul, and my body. I feel his hard body pressing down on mine, his tongue sliding down my neck, his big, hard cock pressing between my legs, forcing me to open them wide, as wide as I can, my body yearning for his…
BANG.
I wake up with a jolt and sit straight up. Nathan’s looking at me with a smirk as he sips on a cup of coffee.
“Guilty conscience?”
It takes me a second to remember where I am – the miner’s break room. They started excavating outside, and the loud drilling is what woke me up. I laid down on the couch for a quick five minute nap, but it turned into a sex dream about that Falurian warrior.
Another one.
Ever since our eyes met in the throne room, I’ve been unable to shake Fenrir from my thoughts… Every time I close my eyes, he’s there. Those brilliant, demanding eyes of him. I understood every word he said to the Jarl. I know he could barely hide this contempt for us humans.
So why do I keep dreaming about him? Why do I keep thinking back to how I felt in his arms when we flew through the air, how he made me feel weightless, how it was the most terrifying yet exciting moment of my entire life…
I run my hand through my hair and am annoyed to find I’m covered in sweat. This light fever has been bugging me for days, and it doesn’t seem to get any better.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I tell Nathan.
He shrugs. “Much rather watch you sleep.”
“Creepy much?”
Nathan laughs, throwing his head back. “That sounded creepier than I intended, yeah. It’s just funny to watch you toss and turn. Sounds like you were running away from some monster.”
“Something like that,” I mutter under my breath.
“You know he came by again today, right?”
My ears perk up. “Who?”
Nathan rolls his eyes. “The space-pope, who else? Fenrir of course.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine. He’s shown up at our dig-site every day for the past week, asking for me, yet I’ve avoided him at every turn. I’m so confused at the moment. Before I see him I need some time to sort my thoughts, but these crazy sex dreams aren’t making it any easier for me.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. T=That you were sleeping.”
“Great, now he must think I’m lazy.”
“Why do you care? You don’t even want to see him.”
I throw one of the pillows at Nathan. He’s right though, I have no idea what I want.
“If I can give you some unsolicited advice-”
“Please don’t.”
“I think you should meet the guy,” Nathan continues without missing a beat. “He comes by every day for you, like some love-sick puppy. You should see how angry he gets when I turn him away. He’ll shout in broken Universal: ‘I demand to see the human female Abigail Snow!’” Nathan can’t help but laugh at his own imitation of the Falurian warrior.
In truth, he doesn’t come close. There’s simply no way Nathan could ever imitate that low, growly voice that seems to rise and rumble like a volcano, that demands attention and obedience.
Nathan’s a really nice guy, and I’m glad to have made a friend among all these roughly-hewn miners, but he doesn’t compare to Fenrir. No one does.
“Are you crazy?” I ask as I hug a pillow, partly because I’m cold, and partly because my heart won’t stop racing. All this Falur-talk is doing nothing to dissipate my unwanted arousal. “Did you see the way he looked at me?”
Nathan takes a sip of his coffee. “Sure did. Hard to forget those eyes of him. Anyway, isn’t that why you signed up for this mission? To find some excitement? It’s being offered to you by the boat-load now.”
“That’s not why I signed up at all,” I protest.
“Then why are you here?” Nathan asks. “Can’t be because of the good pay, the great benefits, the wonderful pension plan, because Calloway Corps ain’t got none of that good stuff. There must be some reason you’re here. If not plain old excitement, then what?”
“Why are you here then, for that matter?”
Nathan shrugs. “We’re not talking about me, but I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”
“Please do,” I say.
“Alright, but you’re going next. I used to run with this crew back in Berlin. We’d steal id’s, scam people, clean out their accounts. Small time stuff. No one ever got hurt. Don’t wrinkle your nose at me like that, I’m sure you have some skeletons in your closet as well. Plus, we donated everything we didn’t spend on chasing our next high to the poorhouses – considered ourselves newfangled Robin Hoods. Of course, as time went by, more and more money went into buying lyf and gambling, and less money went to a good cause… until we hit the wrong target.”
Nathan takes another sip of his coffee as he stares out the window, a look of intense concentration on his face. The drilling continues on unabated outside, but I listen to Nathan with bated breath. In the back of my mind I knew every single one of the miners has a seedy history, but I pushed that information to the back of my mind, because I didn’t want to think about the fact that I’m surrounded by ex-cons. However, listening to Nathan is making me realize just how sheltered my life has been so far. I can’t even imagine living a life like that.
“It was a young guy. Dark hair, flashy clothes, nothing special. Same as any other target. He stumbled through the Friedrichstrasse late at night, drunk and high out of his mind on lyf. I helped him to his feet and relieved him of his id-card. Called for a cab and sent him on his way home, even paid his fare for him. Way I saw it at the time, I helped him. Got home safe because of me. I know guys that didn’t like leaving witnesses.”
Nathan sighs. “In the end, it’s that kindness that nearly got me killed. Turned out the kid wasn’t just any kid – he was no one other than the son of Mikael Muller, otherwise known as Morder Mike. I don’t think I need to translate that for you. He was one of the Russian mob’s hit-men. Not a man you want to fuck around with. And that’s exactly what I did.
“I should have known when I checked the account and found fifty-thousand credits on there. Alarm bells should have gone off. I never should touched the money. Instead, I figured this was karma. The universe was rewarding me for my good deeds! In fact, it was quite the opposite, but I realizes that way too late. I spent it all. In one weekend.”
“How do y
ou spent fifty-thousand credits in one weekend?” I gasp. “I don’t think I’ve made that much in my life!”
Nathan smirks. He looks just like a mischievous kid with his unruly black hair, not at all like I imagined an ex-criminal would look like, but I suppose looks can be deceiving.
“When you’re buying lyf for everyone who wants a huff while playing high-stakes Pazaak with the Berlin underworld, you can blow through stacks quicker than you can count. Plus, I donated half of my small fortune to a poorhouse. It was a good weekend, that. Real good. Felt like I finally made a difference.”
His lips curl upwards into a smile, as if he’s reliving that entire weekend again. Then a frown flashes across his brow.
“Then Monday came, and it all came crashing down. I had been sloppy – the cab’s dash-cam had filmed me. The mob has all the latest face-recognition software and they have access to every database there is – they knew who I was, where I lived, what I ate, who I fucked. Everything.”
If I had known Nathan was such a riveting story teller, I would have asked him about his past weeks ago! For the first time in days my mind isn’t lingering on the lusty Falurian warrior who wants to claim me for his own. “Go on,” I urge Nathan. “What happened?”
“They paid me a visit. Still have the scars to prove that little chat. Morder Mike gave me an ultimatum: Pay him back within a week or he’d make an example out of me. I was left cornered. I had donated and spent every last dime! If I tried my usual routine of swindling and scamming, it would take me months to scrounge up that amount, if not years.”
“So what did you?”
“I gambled. Literally. Signed up for a high-stakes Pazaak tournament organized by the Terulians using a counterfeited id. Not a single credit on there, but they wouldn’t realize this until they tried to cash in. Had I won the tourney, I could have paid the buy-in, pay off all my debts, and still come out ahead. However, seeing as I’m sitting here, drinking instant-coffee in some rickety shack millions of lightyears from Earth instead of sipping on a cocktail in a luxury high-rise apartment in downtown Berlin, I’m sure you can imagine what happened.”
