by Dixon, Ruby
I brush her mane back from her face. "No one has ever touched me of their own accord…unless it was for medical purposes."
She sniffs, and I realize she is making water from her eyes. "That hurts my heart. My poor beast." She nuzzles her face against my fur, and then rubs her mouth against my nipple. "I'm so glad you're not stuck in that world anymore. How did you end up on that ship, do you know?"
"I was being sent for an arena battle, I imagine." I want to shrug, but her small, soft body is pressed against mine and I do not want to disturb her. "No one ever told me where I was going or who I would be fighting. I would know when the doors to my cage would open and I would see my opponent."
"This is awful. Did they educate you? Anything?" At my silence, she sighs heavily. "Well, you are with me now, and I will cut out the eyes of the next person that tries to hurt you or make you a slave."
Pleasure spreads through my chest. "You are very fierce in your protection of me. Are you not a gladiator from your own world, then?"
"Me?" She chuckles. "No. Not at all. I was a waitress, sugar."
"I do not know this word."
"People would eat and I would serve them."
"Ah, a slave then."
"What? No. They paid me to tend to them and then they would leave. I didn't have a master. I could choose to leave at any time."
"But you did not? Did you enjoy this wait-resting then?"
"God, no. People can be real dicks, you know? And it didn't pay great, but it was steady work and I needed the money. Right before she went to prison, Mama opened a bunch of credit cards in my name and ran them up to buy gift cards to exchange for drugs. I didn't find out until it was too late, but I'm payin' it back anyhow." She sighs heavily. "And now Mama gets to spend time in prison just like Uncle Dick, may he rot in hell." She plays with the fur on my lower belly, making my cock stir and my mind turn to mating once more. "You know, I'm all outraged over how people treated you on your world, but then I remember how terrible Mama and Uncle Dick and all their friends were and sometimes I think there aren't any good people in the universe." She sighs heavily. "Maybe that's why I have such a hard time trusting these people. I don't like how they treated you. Still don't."
I say nothing. She does not need to know that I thought this was an arena challenge of a different scope than I am used to—sometimes I still do—and that I would have torn all of their throats out just to “win.” I do not want her thinking badly of me, so I say nothing. I simply caress her teat, teasing the pinkish-brown tip with my claws and enjoying the way it hardens under my touch.
She sits up, her curly mane spilling over her speckled shoulders, and looks down at me. "I guess all that matters is that you and I are together and we're happy." Her fingers brush down my chest. "Tell me…are you happy?"
For some reason, it is hard to speak. I swallow the knot in my throat and take her hand in mine. "Sometimes I wake up afraid that I will find this has all been a dream and that you are not real. The thought terrifies me, because I want this—want you—so very much."
Willa sighs and slides her leg over my hips, straddling my aching cock and rubbing her slick cunt along its length. "Sugar, I feel exactly the same way. If this is a dream, don't ever wake me up, all right?"
“Never,” I tell her, and mean it.
22
One week later
WILLA
Gren presses a warm cloth to my aching pussy, his movements careful and tender. “Better?”
I bite back the hiss that rises in my throat, because it’s both better and worse. The warm water is comforting, but his touch just makes me want him again—which is starting to get a little frustrating. “I just wish I knew how much longer this whole resonance thing was going to go on.”
He leans in and rubs his face against my hair. “Try to rest.”
That’s part of the problem, though. It’s been weeks now and resonance is still eating at both of us so strongly that it makes it impossible to sleep. I wake up and I want to jump him, my body aching with need. It doesn’t matter that we make love a half-dozen times a day, trying to sate the itch. The cootie is never satisfied, and there’s not a moment to relax. I don’t sleep for more than an hour or two without being awoken by the hunger racing through my body, and I know it’s the same for Gren.
We’re both exhausted.
I worry something’s wrong. I hold the wet towel against my sore girl-parts and try to rest, but the thought keeps playing in my head. It’s something I’ve been worrying about for a while now. I haven’t said anything to Gren, but I keep thinking about his lack of belly button and the fact that it sounds like he was…manufactured. Like a test-tube baby. I wonder if he’s able to get me pregnant at all, or if I’m the problem. If we weren’t compatible, we wouldn’t resonate, I don’t think. As Gren moves to stoke the fire, I shove a thick folded fur under my hips, elevating them, just in case.
I think about what Farli said—maybe there’s some hidden aspect to this that we’re missing. That we’re doing it “wrong.” That there’s a secret move no one told us about that has to be completed. With every day that passes, sex has gone from delightful to demanding. There’s no time for foreplay, no leisurely exploration, nothing but need. We come together, orgasm, fall to the blankets, and repeat again about an hour later. While I still love sex with him, I’m tired of this relentless need. I know Gren is, too.
At least if I’m going through this, I’m going through it with him.
As I lie on the blankets with the cloth pressed to my flesh, I hear laughter float up from the beach. It’s not the first time, and I know that the wind carries sounds up the rocky cliffs, but we’re much closer to the other tribe’s camp than I realized. The path is long, thanks to the cliffs, but as the crow flies? We’re close. They’ve probably heard us mating. A lot. I can’t even be embarrassed. It’s just sex. Good sex. A lot of good sex…which I would like slightly less of.
I glance over at Gren as he pokes at the fire with one of the pointy bone sticks, and I can’t help but smile. I love my big beast more with every passing day. He’s not really a beast, of course. He’s just a man, slightly more furry than some, with bigger teeth and claws than others. Not a big deal to me. He’s got a generous heart, and he’s utterly tender and caring when it comes to me. And clever. So damn clever. As we talk more and more, I learn all kinds of things…like the fact that he’d play up his growling and beastly appearance to make his opponents underestimate him. He’d pretend to be dumb and without the ability to speak so people would talk freely around him. And he taught himself how to speak Praxiian because no one else did.
Dumb he is most definitely not.
I both love and hate his stories. Anything I can learn about Gren feels special, and I want to know everything I can about him…but the more I learn, the more I hate those that had him previously. They treated him worse than a slave, and almost all of his stories involve arenas or battles of some kind and always end with him being forced to murder his opponent to please his owners, who’d promptly inject him with stims and dump him back into a cage or into stasis like a toy they brought out to play with. It makes me hate all the aliens out there in the stars. How can anyone think this is okay?
But I guess some don’t, because Mardok showed up here to help us out, and Zolaya went and got Veronica when he found out Gren was dying.
I set the cloth back in the bowl as I think about Veronica. Her healing powers worked wonders on Gren. I wonder if we should have her visit once more. See if there’s something else she can do for us. I don’t want Gren to feel like he’s not enough for me, though.
“Willa?” Gren touches my arm, then grazes my cheek with one knuckle. His cootie is loud and insistent in his chest, and I realize belatedly that mine is, too. I was so lost in my exhausted thoughts that I missed the sign.
“Right. Yep.” I turn onto my belly and raise my hips into the air even as he settles his weight behind me.
His first thrust makes me come, or
gasm curling my toes and making me groan so loud that I sound like a dying animal. We’re both so sensitized at this point that it doesn’t take him more than a few quick thrusts before he comes, too—which is good because each thrust sets off a new cascade of orgasms. Then his seed fills me, and my thighs and pussy are wet with his spend as we both collapse onto the blankets again, panting as if we’ve run a marathon.
Gren pulls me against him, nuzzling at my hair. “I am sorry,” he murmurs, licking my shoulder gently. “Next time I will bring you more pleasure.” He sounds as tired as I am, though, as if the very thought of putting more work into pleasure is beyond his strength. This isn’t who Gren is—he’s big and strong—so powerful that he terrified everyone into tying him up.
I turn in his arms—and even that small movement feels like effort—and look him in the eye. “I think we should ask Veronica to come back.”
Alarm makes his body stiffen. His big hand cups my cheek and then smooths down my arm, and his eyes study me with worry. “You are ill? Where do you hurt?”
“No, sugar, I just…I think this is wrong.” Even after three weeks of marathon sex, I still have it in me to blush. “We’re both so tired and this isn’t stopping. Everyone talks about how amazing resonance is, but we passed amazing well over a week ago. We’re both exhausted and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down any. I want to make sure nothing is wrong.” After a moment, I quickly add, “With me, that is. What if I can’t get pregnant and our cooties don’t know that?”
“Or I am the problem,” he says, and he touches one claw to my navel, thinking of my fascination with his lack of one, and I know we’re both wondering the same thing.
“You aren’t,” I tell him fiercely. “I don’t care if they made you by stitching together a bunch of breakfast leftovers—you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I’m so thankful that my cootie chose you. But this thing’s making us too exhausted. We have to rule out that something else isn’t wrong.” I press a kiss to his mouth. “And if it is, maybe Veronica’s healing powers can help.”
He grunts, but his expression isn’t convinced. “What if she tries to make you resonate to someone that can fill your belly with a young one? I will tear the throat out of any male who looks at you twice.” His arms tighten around me. “You are my mate and mine alone.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” I tell him, burying my fingers in his fur. “And that won’t happen. Veronica knows we love each other.”
Gren is silent for a long moment. “If this is what you want.”
It’s not what I want. I’d love to be free of the need of the others’ charity. We’ve had food deliveries made to the cave several times in the last week because we’re both too distracted to go hunting. It’s just more social obligation, and I know the others are doing it to be kind, but I don’t want to be dependent on them. But…I feel like we need Veronica’s help. “Just a visit from the healer,” I tell my love. “Nothing more.”
* * *
Later that evening, I hear the sound of someone in the entrance of the cave. I climb out of bed—even though it feels like massive effort, dress in a fresh tunic and leggings (thanks to Farli) and put on my boots to greet our visitor. Gren rouses, brushes his mouth over my ear, and moves to my side, touching my arm in a silent indication that he’ll accompany me.
I’m not entirely surprised to see it’s Hassen. He seems to have taken on the job of our caretaker, and I smile a greeting at him. “Hello again.”
“Ho. You both look terrible,” he tells me cheerfully. “Resonance still eating at your guts?”
“You could say that.”
“Ah.” He gets a dreamy look on his big face. “Do you know what that reminds me of?”
“Mah-dee?” I guess, my lips twitching with the effort not to smile.
“Yes. We did not resonate as long as you, but we were as loud.”
I cross my arms and do my best not to blush. “Ah. Well, thank you for the meat. How are you?”
“I miss my mate and my kit, but it will not be long now.” He grins. “Once Ron-ka and her mate return from the village, I am told they will carry the last four of us that are returning back to our mates.”
“Last four?” I ask, surprised and dismayed. “Veronica’s not here?”
Gren says nothing, but I know now that is part of his strategy to listen and watch. He touches the small of my back, a silent indication that he hears everything.
“She has gone back to Croatoan,” Hassen agrees. “To learn more healing from Maylak. She and Ashtar took Rokan, Bek, and Aehako back to their mates. Oh, and Vektal. Our chief was very excited to feast his eyes on Shorshie and his girls once more.” He straightens, dumping another one of the dead pony-things (a “dvisti”) for our meat. “I think he is tired of newcomers showing up on the beach, but that is just me.”
“Newcomers?” I echo. I want to talk about Veronica some more and when she will be back, but it seems like there’s a lot going on. I’m terrified to hear his words. “What newcomers?”
“Slavers?” Gren ask-growls.
Hassen shakes his head, then squats to begin the messy task of butchering our meat. I know I should do it—or try to learn how to do it—but I’m so tired even standing up like this is becoming effort, so I just watch. “Not slavers,” Hassen continues. “Islanders. Lo-ren and Mar-ee-sol are back, and they have brought a strange tribe with them from the island.”
“Back?” I echo. “Were they gone?”
Now he’s the one that looks surprised. “They disappeared when the ship sank. We thought they were dead. There was much sadness back on the beach.”
“Oh.” I hug my arms to my chest, feeling sick. I vaguely remember running into Lauren back on the beach on the day I rescued Gren and telling her to help Mardok strip the ship because I was trying to get everyone away from Gren. It’s probably my fault. “She’s all right? Her and Mari?”
“They are well,” he agrees. “And Pashov, though you tried to make his brain come out his ears.” He jabs the knife along the carcass, punctuating his words. “You did not ask, but I thought I would tell you.”
I deserve the reprimand, I suppose. “Thank you.”
“My mate is a warrior,” Gren growls at him. “She does what she must to win.”
“There is nothing to win,” Hassen says easily. “No one is competing. But I understand now she was protecting you. This is something I acknowledge. We should have done better by you, though you did not try very hard.” The look he gives Gren is sly and full of humor. “But all is well. No one is dead, and now we have a new mess of people back at the Icehome camp who must be taught how to hunt and take care of themselves.”
“More aliens?” I ask him, surprised.
“People,” he corrects. “People from the island. Four arms and skin that changes color and jaws full of fur. He shakes his head. “I thought I had seen everything when your people landed, but it turns out the world surprises me once more.”
“Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. More people. Strange, strange people. Four…arms? It’s a lot to take in.
Hassen grunts. “They are as helpless as kits on the beach. I do not envy Taushen and the others with their task of teaching a tribe full of kits how to take care of themselves.” He gives me a grin over his shoulder. “I would help more…but I have put in my time and my mate is waiting for me.”
“We appreciate the help,” I tell him, and then because I’m impatient to know, I continue. “When will Veronica be back?”
“A few days?” He shrugs his big shoulders and jabs a knife into the belly of the animal, cutting it open. “She will be coming back, though. She is needed here.”
Boy, I’ll say. “Um, when she returns, can you give her a message?”
“Of course,” Hassen says easily.
I look over at Gren and take his hand in mine, squeezing it. I word my thoughts very carefully, because I don’t want him to feel as if he’s the problem. “Tell her I worry there’s
an issue with resonance and we need her help.”
“It is me,” Gren says, voice quiet. “I am the problem. I am a beast—”
“No,” I retort quickly when Hassen looks up in surprise. I squeeze my mate’s hand. “You’re not the problem. It could be a hundred different things. And…we just want to ask.”
Hassen gives us a mystified look. “A problem with resonance? You are not fighting it, are you? We hear you down on the beach. I thought you were both very enthusiastic—”
“That part is fine,” I bark out, embarrassed.
Hassen straightens, then tilts his head, watching us. “You do know where everything goes, yes? The cock—”
“We know,” I tell him shrilly, raising my voice so he doesn’t keep talking.
“Blessurhart,” Gren agrees, and squeezes my hand, and then I just laugh hysterically, because that’s all I can do.
Sometimes the people on this planet are entirely too helpful. Bless his heart, indeed.
23
WILLA
It takes three days for anyone else to come by again. You would think the time would pass swiftly, but it's a mess of naps, heated, quick matings, and somehow managing bodily functions between both of those two things. I feel like a frazzled mess, and I'm too distracted and exhausted to concentrate on anything. When I hear a voice call out "Ho!" from the path outside the cave, I feel like shouting with joy.
Gren tenses next to me in our bed, squeezing my shoulder. "They are here. Rouse yourself, my mate."
"I'm awake," I tell him, scrambling from the bed. I drop my tunic twice before Gren takes it and helps me dress. I feel like a junkie tweaking between fixes—my twitching reminding me too much of Mama in later years—and I hate it, because I know that my “fix”—another round of sex—will only give a few moments of relief before the hungry need starts up again. "Thanks, sugar," I tell him, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he puts an arm around my waist. "You're the best."
