Warrior Forever

by Amber Bardan

  “Net Oohtch.” His voice went oddly soft for something so deep.

  My sobs calmed to gentler tears.

  Warmth spread through my limbs. Sweat slickened my armpits and thighs. He seemed to have grown warmer.

  “Net Oohtch,” he whispered again, and his almost scalding palms flowed over and over on my back.

  I rested my cheek on his chest. My muscles loosened, and my hitching breath evened. I sunk into the heat, and the burn melted the pain inside and out.

  “Leila.” My mind sharpened at the sound of Macca’s voice. “May we communicate?”

  I shifted in the Baratican’s arms. Who knew how long we’d lain here. He’d only just begun to cool down, easing the sauna sensation.

  “What do you want?” I whispered.

  “I have accessed new resources on human psychology.”

  I sighed. What—better to manipulate me with? “Good for you.”

  “It appears I may have overlooked some aspects of human health in my calculations.”

  The Baratican adjusted me against him and gazed down. I remained limp as a ragdoll, muscles as jellied as my will. I didn’t even have the energy to wipe back the sweat soaked hair plastered to my face.

  “A Crestonian’s psychological association with sexual intercourse is entirely rational and physical. They are not consumed by emotion.”

  I rubbed my nose, wishing there was an off switch to the implant. “Good for them.”

  “Human’s, while primitive, share much genetic similarity to Crestonians.”

  Was this going to be another human bashing comment? If so Macca could bash her comments up her—

  “Perhaps I was not prepared for the potential for psychological trauma on the human mind as a result of unwanted mating.”

  I blinked. The Baratican turned my chin examining the side of my head. He obviously heard Macca. But right now, I was the one who couldn’t believe my own ears.

  “Is that an apology?” My mouth kicked up at one side.

  “It is an admission of error.”

  I found the strength to smile. “I appreciate the apology.”

  For once the obnoxious super computer didn’t compete for the last say.

  “It is essential for a cooperative relationship that trust is fostered.”

  “Hmm, true,” I hummed. “Too bad about that, ha?”

  The Baratican jammed his fingertip against my ear canal. Lucky for him his giant fingertip wouldn’t fit or I might find the strength to explore if biting had any effect on his digits.

  I brushed his hand aside. In yet another out of character response from these two predictable alien entities, he actually took the hint and removed his touch from my ear.

  “It is correct that I withheld information you may have found relevant to decision making.”

  “Wow, you’re really breaking barriers here, Macca.”

  The Baratican touched under my eyes and squinted as though checking for a second bought of impending hysteria.

  “That is precisely my intention. To that end I wish to advise that should you so desire, it is possible to filter and interpret Baratican language in your implant.”

  I blinked. “You mean, I could actually talk to him?”

  “Eventually,” Macca hummed in my ear. “Initially you could hear him in real time interpreted in the implant, but he would not understand you. At your request it is possible to upload the Baratican language to your microchip but that requires a full REM sleep cycle.”

  If my mind could get more blown, it just exploded.

  “Please make all of that happen as quickly as possible.” Energy—or maybe it was hope—returned to my limbs. I sat up, easing out of his arms and clutched the blanket to my chest. “And I appreciate this, Macca. From now on its full disclosure and we help each other.”

  “Agreed. In this spirit I must warn you that you may not find comfort in the Baratican’s words.”

  I stared at the Baratican. At his strange exaggerated features which seemed to grow more usual the more I looked at them. “I don’t care about comfort, I want to know what’s going on.”

  “As you request.”

  His gaze drifted over me. He’d let me up, but his attention remained fully fixated.

  He leaned forward and tugged at the blanket. It snapped right out of my arms.

  Not again.

  But he didn’t pounce on me and he didn’t growl.

  He took my elbow and shifted me so I tipped onto my side. I groaned. What do you call it when it’s not a human manhandling you?

  Beast-handling?

  Alien-handling?

  His fingers brushed my hip. “Ouch better?”

  I twitched at the shock of his words. It worked—I’d understood him.

  I glanced at my side where he touched. What the hell? What had been a deep purple bruise earlier had turned mottled green. Like a fading bruise. But it was brand new?

  He poked my skin.

  How does a forming bruise fade?

  “Not make mate when hurt.” His wide mouth turned down.

  My eyes flared. He wouldn’t jump my bones while he thought I was in pain?

  An enormous flood of relief sent my head spinning.

  So, the amorous alien had some moral code.

  Too bad mine was compromised right now.

  I clutched my hip and gave an exaggerated whimper.

  His mouth pursed farther, the concern so evident on his alien features that it almost caused a pang of guilt.

  Almost .

  I rocked backwards and gave a sniffle. Academy awards eat your heart out. I was not above utilizing my full theatrical capabilities as an interspecies rape prevention measure.

  His touched moved over my hip, and—oh, god. His hand heated. Just like that. A living, walking heat-pack-hand-man. He rubbed my side.

  Up and down and around.

  The blissful sensation melted through me. A moan slipped out of my lips. I sputtered, covering the moan with a cough, and produced another contrived whimper.

  His attention flew to my face. He paused and re-covered me with the blanket. Ironically, I almost dragged his hand back to my hip.

  What was wrong with me?

  He stroked the hair from my face. “Resting today my wife. We make mating tomorrow.”

  I choked for real—saliva flying into my lungs.

  His what now?

  I banged my fist on my chest. “Why the fuck did he just call me his wife?”

  If a computer could sigh, Macca did so in the pause before replying. “The Baratican marriage ritual has commenced. Consider this an engagement. Once consummation has occurred the marriage cycle will be completed.”

  My hand flattened over my hammering chest. “What the hell is a marriage cycle and how do I stop it?”

  He tugged on my earlobe. “This parasite or machine?”

  “Holy crap, there are parasites that talk in your ear?” A shudder shook me. Space was freaking revolting.

  “There has never been a Baratican infestation of mindmeal, so you will not contract one here.”

  Mindmeal ? I gave another shudder, then released a breath. “Back to this marriage. How do I stop it?”

  “Once consummation occurs the only way to end the marriage is death.”

  My pulse became a pounding, gut twisting carnival attraction within my body. “But don’t I have to participate in this marriage, ritual, whatever it is?”

  “You are and will participate whether you are aware of it or not.”

  I ran a hand down my cheek. “How did this even start?”

  “The Baratican began pairing with you the moment he sampled your DNA.”

  “Sampled my DNA?” My breath stopped. That sneaky vagina munching monster… “And you didn’t warn me.”

  “I have confessed my error in judgment. We have reached compromise have we not?”

  I forced myself to breathe through the clutch of anxiety.

  “We have.” No good getting my only ally off
side. We’d turned over a new leaf—wiped the slate clean and all that crap.

  His attention flicked across my face as though reading my features.

  “Time for resting.” He nudged me to lay down. “Be comfort wife, we make much mating after resting.”

  I stretched out. My head pounded. Yeah, I was “much” comforted by that promise. “Get that language in me, Macca. I need to be able to talk to him.”

  “Then do as he says and rest. You will have what you desire when you wake.”

  Not sure how Macca intended to have me waking up back home in my bed, with a bottle of Sav Blanc on the side table, and the week off work to get over screwed up dreams—because that was my hearts truest desire.

  But failing that, I’d settle for alien language.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Heat engulfed me.

  Heat like a cleansing wave. Burning through my body and wrapping around my soul. A warmth that cold could never touch.

  Warmth that pain could never reach.

  Warmth that hurt could never diffuse.

  Bone deep comfort suffused me, where loneliness succumbed to something whole and pure.

  The feeling buzzed. Emotion melted through me, filling me up until my body would burst—and then it did.

  I burst with sensation.

  Pleasure wrapped around me.

  My eyes flew open. Bright blue seared my vision.

  Vibration rocked to my core.

  My muscles contracted one by one. Ecstasy stole my breath. Climax shattered my nerves, rocketed through my system, and gripped me in a fierce consuming hold.

  The feeling went on and on, wringing me out until my body was a twitching heap. Until I was a mass of vibration that hummed even in my teeth.

  My head rolled and my vision cleared.

  Growling reached my ears at the same time the sight did—an enormous growling Baratican with his mouth devouring my sex.

  His eyes also closed.

  Oh, fuck .

  The sensations didn’t stop. They only muted to a sweeter feeling.

  My chest heaved. He sucked me with his magical mouth, all while growling in pleasure.

  My fists drew tight. Another contraction clenched my abdomen.

  Mother-fucking-vagina-munching-alien-cunt.

  I gasped for air.

  Or was that cunt-munching— damn —his tongue dragged over my pussy.

  Oh, god . How was this real?

  He lifted his head. I dissolved against the mattress. Salty sweat trickled into my mouth. A film of moisture covered my body.

  Energy fled. I lay splayed, arms and legs out. He moved up my body, nuzzling his way over my skin.

  I watched him through a drunken haze. Couldn’t so much as roll away. His nose dragged between my breasts, and his growling grew more intense.

  He stared up at me.

  His expression was like a shot of adrenaline right in my heart—energy pumped back into my blood.

  Shit .

  The look on him was impossible to describe because I’d never experienced anything to compare it with.

  Lust, desire, hunger, all wrapped up in need so intense it sank invisible fangs into me.

  “Wife, my desire for you cannot be restrained.” His voice was deep as a drum and sweet as a marshmallow.

  And that’s how it made me feel—soft and deep.

  He hovered above me, and the way he stared made it impossible not to squirm. No human ever looked at me so directly.

  How long had I been in his cave?

  A day and a half? Had he stayed every moment? Watching over me. Caring for me…

  His touch roamed my side, leaving tingles in it’s wake.

  “In the interest of disclosure, consummation will have permanent ramifications. Many of which you may likely not be amenable to.”

  Macca’s voice filled my head and cleared the fog.

  He gripped my thigh. “Make mating now.”

  I fell back to reality with a thud, and slammed my palms into his chest. “No!”

  He paused, focus tightening on my face.

  Air flooded my lungs. I’d just spoken Baratican.

  He hauled my knee to his hip.

  But apparently understanding of “no” didn’t count for much even if he did comprehend it.

  His big, hot body sank over mine.

  My pulse leaped, and I drove my forearms between us. “Wait, I’m hurt!”

  He leaned back, that crinkled look of concern thickening in his expression. “Where ouch?”

  I scooted backwards.

  “Show me where is ouch.” He scanned me with his gaze, attention moving to my hip.

  My stomach gurgled.

  I clutched my belly, my heart giving a thunk. “Here, it hurts here.”

  This had better work…

  He glanced at my middle.

  My empty stomach let out a gurgle. “You hear that?”

  His eyes widened. “Yes!”

  “That’s my stomach pain.” I narrowed my eyes. “ Hunger pain.”

  His mouth opened slightly, revealing extended canines.

  For what was supposedly the most fearsome kind of warrior in the universe, Baratican’s were ridiculously easy to read.

  No wonder they had to wear helmets.

  “I haven’t eaten in a week and I’ve been ill.” I crossed my arms over my boobs. “You’ve starved me, and now you want to mate with me during the agony of my hunger?”

  His expression slumped so crestfallen, it almost felt like poking a puppy with a stick.

  Except he was supposed to be a warrior…

  A warrior who planned to force mate and marry me.

  “You are taking terrible care of your wife, Baratican.”

  He flinched. Actually, flinched liked he’d been whacked in the face.

  I almost flinched in kind at the way I’d called him a Baratican. Not so different to how Macca called me human. I resisted the urged to pat his arm and apologize for adopting the antics of a ruthless, manipulative super computer.

  “No, my wife.” He took my shoulders and stared at my stomach. “Not starving you. Crestonian digestion must rest after dream fruit consumption.”

  Dream fruit?

  Oh yeah, the space equivalent of magic mushrooms I’d feasted on.

  And he thought I was Crestonian?

  “My digestion has recovered, and I’m starving. So, shouldn’t you feed me now?”

  His attention flew to my face. “Yes.”

  Oh, boy . That expression. Stick-in-a-puppy’s-heart.

  He released me, and slid off the bed. “More rest, my wife, I shall heal your hunger.”

  Heal my hunger …

  Guilt swelled in my middle. But why did I feel bad?

  And why did an enormous beastly warrior, all of a sudden seem a bit adorable?

  Must be the oddly gallant, half-Neanderthal, half-Arthurian, Baratican way he had of speaking…

  He scooped his fur cloak off a box beside the bed. I kept myself completely still.

  He was going to leave the cave to get me something to eat.

  I’d be unsupervised…

  I cleared my throat. “Get as much food as you can. I’m very hungry.”

  He secured the cloak at his neck and picked up the helmet. “I shall not return without a feast for my bride.”

  “Excellent.” Oh, shit . Now I was even using villain language.

  I really had joined the ranks of evil.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Baratican disappeared through an alcove then a heavy groan sounded.

  “Crafty, Leila, and effective,” Macca chimed in my ear. “Your skills in psychology have served you well with the Baratican .”

  My chest pinged. “Don’t be so proud, I’m only doing what I have to do to save myself.”

  “Do you suggest manipulation is justified in accordance with need?”

  I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and picked up the blanket. “I know what you’re getting at and
this isn’t even remotely the same thing.” I wrapped the blanket around my middle and knotted it near an armpit. Not exactly clothing but better than butt-ass naked. “The Baratican is holding me against my will, that makes him an enemy. You and I were supposed to be working together— allies . That’s the difference.”

  Now how to get the hell out of here before my horny alien suitor came home to make his “much mating”?

  “What are the chances of that drone getting to me in here?”

  “My scans have failed to locate an access point to the surface through which the drone could reach you.”

  My chin dropped to my chest. “Great.”

  “You must find a path to the surface, or wait until we can find one for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m not waiting to be rescued.” I strode in the direction the Baratican left. “Especially with forced nuptials pending.”

  The alcove lead into another room.

  Holly shit.

  The ceiling loomed like a cathedral, dripping with glowing stalactites.

  “Do those things control the light in here?”

  “The crystals are a conduit, conducting light from the surface to the underground.”

  “Nifty.” I turned around, taking in the room.

  The space was wide and circular, scattered with couches, rugs, and other unexpected civilized ornamentation. Shelving was carved into the earthy walls, brim with odds and ends.

  A large recess cut into a section of wall

  “That must be the door.” I jogged to the recess. The exit was blocked by an enormous rock-like surface. I shoved my hands against it. The blockage didn’t so much as twitch. “What the hell, are you seeing this Macca?”

  “I see it, Leila.”

  I scanned the blockage from top to bottom. “Tell me that’s not a boulder and there’s going to be a switch somewhere to open the door?”

  “It does appear to be a physical barrier.”

  I fisted my hands and leaned on the rock and pushed up off my feet.

  “Given that the dwelling of a Baratican would most likely be designed to keep a prospective mate contained, and that mate could be of any number of humanoid species, the most secure containment measure would be one that requires a feat of strength rather than a feet of logic.”

  I let out a huff, and sat in front of the doorway then lay down on my back, and pressed both feet to the stone. I’d always been stronger on the leg-press than any other equipment in the gym. My thighs strained under the force of my strength. The best I managed was lifting my body off the ground.