Alien Affair

by Gloria Martin

  "Even a well-placed arrow can bring down the mightiest beast," Ulric said. "It was not my doing, but the only reason he is here instead of dead on that field is because I gave him my word that he would be returned to his home once the battle was won."

  Brida looked away and let her brother carry the conversation. Her father's voice alone conveyed his thoughts about Cynric; a monster who was only alive by Ulric's own good grace. Brida suddenly had little appetite for the meal on her plate. She pushed it away and excused herself quietly. The conversation barely faltered and she left the room with no fight from her father.

  She made her way back to the hospital tent, where she knew she could do some good, and hopefully not face any judgment from the nurses for her unspoken opinions on Cynric.

  He was still sleeping when she checked on him, but his color was better and there was no fresh blood on the bandages. He was still feverish, though. Brida fetched herself a bowl of water and one of the few remaining clean rags and soaked it through, pressing the cool compress to Cynric's skin.

  "I apologize for what happened to you," she said, "and all to save the lands of a man who would have rather left you to die. But I am thankful, more than you know, no matter what manner of man you are, whether you are beast or not. I know I owe you my life, and that of my father and my brothers, whom I cherish more than anything in this world."

  "You... needn't be sorry..." Brida pulled the compress away. Cynric gazed up at her with half-lidded, bleary eyes. "I assume you know... the truth of my nature, then."

  "What nature?" Brida asked. "You said you have magic and that is what you used, is it not?"

  Cynric managed to cock his head, just slightly. Brida busied herself soaking the rag with fresh water before dabbing it against his brow once more.

  "I know little of you, but you are a singular woman. You do not judge, not like the others."

  "You did as you were asked and it may yet cost you your life," Brida replied. "How could I judge you for that?"

  "So you do not think me a monster?"

  "Dragons may be frightening, but I've always been told they're great protectors as well. God placed you on this earth just as he did my brothers and I, and everyone else in this land. A man touched by Satan wouldn't have done what you did."

  Cynric reached up and gently wrapped his fingers around Brida's wrist, turning his face into the edge of her palm where her skin was bare. His skin was warm, but surprisingly soft, his jaw free of even fine stubble.

  Brida's throat tightened. "These wounds," she said, "will they heal?"

  "I am made of far sterner stuff than most men," Cynric replied. He let his hand fall, but not before his thumb stoked across the sensitive skin on the inside of Brida's wrist, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "It will take more than a handful of arrows and a well-placed blow from a sword to end me."

  "Will you go home when you've healed?" Brida asked.

  "I will go home once your father pays me what he owes."

  "What did he promise you?" Brida asked.

  "An exorbitant amount," Cynric said and sighed softly. "One I'm unsure he'll be able to pay."

  "I'm sure my father will do his best."

  "I will either be paid in coin or something else," he said with a pointed look in her direction. She swallowed hard. "Would that be an unattractive prospect to you?" Cynric asked.

  Brida licked dry lips. "Only because I know so little about you. You're as much as a stranger to me as you were on the day you first came here."

  "On the contrary," Cynric replied, "you know my greatest secret, and shared willingly. The other men can be convinced it was magic, but in truth my abilities are something different. Perhaps I am touched by the devil." He chuckled dryly then winced and pressed a hand to his chest. "Ah-no matter how fast it heals it still smarts. Thank you for tending to me."

  "Of course," Brida said. "It's the least I can do."

  "We would have a lifetime to know each other," Cynric said a moment later. "If things were to take that route. Is it still so unappealing?"

  "I never said it was to start," Brida said softly. She hoped the blush on her face wasn't terribly noticeable.

  "I'm glad to hear it," Cynric said. He shifted on his pallet. "Though I think your father will be less than pleased."

  "He will realize that things could have been far worse," Brida said. "He's a sensible man, but he fears what he doesn't understand. Most men do."

  "If it were a simpler thing to understand I would make an attempt to explain it to him. Still, in a few days’ time I will be well, and once I have the payment agreed upon, or a suitable replacement, then I will return to my home."

  "Where do you live?" Brida asked. "Not in a cave, I hope."

  "No," Cynric replied, amusement tinging his voice. "A cottage, secreted away, though clearly not well enough if a mere captain could so easily find me."

  "Alfred's a very talented man," Brida replied.

  "I'll not argue that."

  "I have another question," Brida said carefully. She continued when Cynric hummed. "If Father doesn't have the money to give you and you decide to take a different form of compensation, would you remain here?"

  He rolled his head to fully look at her. "If it would make you happiest," he replied. "It would be bad enough to make you marry a stranger, but even worse to take you from your home."

  "Why do you wish to marry at all?" Brida asked.

  "Why any man does," Cynric replied. "I am a man, despite whatever 'powers' I may possess."

  "I bet you looked magnificent," Brida said before she could stop herself. She was rewarded with a grin from Cynric that made her stomach squirm as though someone had released butterflies into it.

  "You're not afraid," he said. "Why is that?"

  "Dragons in stories are always beasts of great wisdom," Brida replied, "with scales as golden as any coin, who could make the sun jealous with their beauty."

  "They're frightening as well," Cynric said. "I'm glad you do not fear me."

  "I am as well." Brida cleared her throat. "Now, if you'll help as much as you can, I need to clean and check your wounds for any infection."

  "They're fine," Cynric said. "Infection isn't something I'm prone to."

  "Are you a healer?" Brida asked.

  "Are you?" Cynric replied.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by her brother Eldric's voice from a few feet away.

  "Father wishes to speak to you," he said.

  Brida turned to face him in time to catch the wary look he threw at Cynric, but was surprised and pleased to see there was only curiosity in his eyes.

  "Very well," she said, then turned back to Cynric. "I'll return tomorrow."

  "I'll watch him sister," Eldric said. "I'm very curious about our guest."

  "Be kind," Brida said warningly as she passed.

  Eldric chuckled. "Am I ever anything but?" he asked and took her place.

  As Brida removed herself from the tent she heard Eldric quietly ask Cynric how he was feeling, and Cynric's easy reply. The pleasant fluttering in her stomach turned to a heavy weight as she thought on what her father could want from her. She had a feeling she already knew the answer. War was never cheap, and it had been a long time since Ulric had seen peace.

  A soldier directed Brida to a small study on the ground floor where Ulric did work when he wished to be left in peace. Brida closed the door gently behind her and took a seat across the large oak desk. Ulric had a small smile for his daughter that failed to hide his exhaustion. He poured her a cup of wine.

  "I know what you're going to say," Brida said.

  "Do you?" Ulric replied. "Enlighten me, then."

  "You don't have the money to give Cynric the price you promised."

  "No, I do not."

  "And you're going to offer him me instead."

  "I am," Ulric said. "Does that upset you?"

  "It should," Brida said, "but you and Eldric and Edmund have already done so much for our family. It'
s my turn now."

  "It needn't be anything extravagant," Ulric continued. "A simple blessing by the priest and you will be given the room in the tower, properly furnished this time."

  "As you say, Father," Brida replied. "I only ask that you allow Cynric time to heal."

  Ulric nodded slowly and sighed. "I know not what kind of man he is, but your brother persuaded me that he is to be trusted, and he did offer us his aid when he could have easily refused. He is owed what I promised." He reached across the desk and Brida placed one of her hands in his. "I'm so glad you understand the importance of this."

  "I do, Father," she said. "Is that all you wish to speak to me of?"

  "Yes," Ulric said. He leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Go, you should rest. You have spent a long day tending to our men. Cynric will be fine with your brother watching him."

  Brida left her wine untouched and stopped to kiss her father's cheek before taking his suggestion and retiring to her room for the night. She tossed and turned, thinking on what was to become of her life, and before she slept came to the conclusion that Cynric had the ability to make her a very happy wife indeed, and help her give her father many strong grandchildren to dote upon.

  *****

  In a few days’ time Cynric was well enough to stand with the help of a cane similar to the one that Edmund still needed to use. It was amazing that he could sit, let alone do anything else, but aside from some stiffness in his movement he seemed perfectly fine. His fever was gone and color was back in his face, his hair dark and sleek and his eyes bright and sharp. He was slowly pacing the field outside the hospital tent when Brida came to find him.

  "Have you heard?" she said by way of greeting.

  "I have," Cynric replied. "It's to be this afternoon." He smiled. "And here I am without proper clothes."

  “I don't have a dress,” Brida replied. “Or a dowry. Only myself.”

  Cynric smiled at her. “Something tells me that's enough.”

  “I'm glad to see you walking,” Brida said.

  “I told you I would heal quickly. Don't be afraid, you will not have an invalid for a husband.” He laughed shortly. “Is that thought as strange to you as it is to me?”

  “I've been prepared for this moment my entire life,” Brida replied. “It's not as strange as you might think.”

  Cynric glanced up. “I suppose not.” He cleared his throat. “Is it not bad luck for me to see the bride before the wedding?”

  Brida blushed and giggled. “I just wished to see that you were well, and you are. I'll see you this afternoon?”

  “You will,” Cynric replied. “I promise.”

  She left him to continue his rounds, glancing over her shoulder as she walked back to the keep, seeking comfort in the garden. She wasn't afraid, but she was nervous. Knowing what to expect was different from actually experiencing it. She had never missed her mother more than right then, but Brida knew that she would have been proud.

  Furniture that had long sat in storage was cleaned and painstakingly taken up to the tower room that had been granted to Cynric while Brida prepared for the blessing and binding of their hands in marriage. Judith's presence was comforting. She did up Brida's hair, loose enough that it wouldn't prove too much trouble that night when she and Cynric were alone, and laced her into a dress of pale yellow, the closest to white she had.

  There was no pomp or ceremony, just a small gathering in the chapel, including Brida's brothers and father to bear witness. She was shaking as she approached Cynric at the altar, wearing clothes that looked borrowed from Eldric and leaning lightly on his cane.

  He took her hand in his, his fingers warm. “Do you always feel this hot?” Brida asked before the priest spoke.

  “You could call it a perk,” Cynric replied. He squeezed her hand, and looked like he was going to say something more, but the priest began reciting verses and they both fell silent.

  Brida threaded her fingers firmly through Cynric's and took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Cynric rubbed his thumb against the inside of her wrist, just once, but it was enough to still her nerves. To keep the event as quiet as possible there was no feast to be had after, but there were rings to be exchanged, two simple bands of gold. Brida's fit snugly on her finger and was as hot against her skin as Cynric's flesh. His kiss missed her lips just by a hair, landing just at the corner but making her whole body tingle.

  “There's food waiting for us I think,” Cynric said. “I'm famished. Shall we?” Brida could only nod.

  A fire had been started in the room and a rug laid out. Some of Brida's things had been brought up, but the most impressive feature was the large bed that dominated the room and was covered in blankets and furs. A small table with two chairs by the fire held two plates piled high with meat and potatoes, complimented by a bowl of fruit. Cynric pulled her chair out for her and in a surprisingly companionable silence the two of them ate. Cynric finished his food quickly and threw back a cup of wine.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  “I'm fine,” Brida replied. “Nervous, perhaps.”

  “There's no reason to be,” Cynric replied. “All the gold in the world couldn't add up to how much you are worth to me. I'd never lay a harsh finger on you.”

  “No,” Brida said and watched Cynric get to his feet. “No, I know you wouldn't.”

  He smiled at her and held out his hand. Brida hesitated, only briefly, then took it and let him pull her to her feet. Slowly he reached up and took the pins out of her hair and set them by their plates, then ran his fingers through her hair. Brida's eyes slipped shut. She felt Cynric kiss her cheek then pull away. When she managed to open her eyes again Cynric had removed his tunic, revealing the already healing scars on his torso. The taut flesh glinted in the firelight.

  “Oh,” she murmured, and before she could stop herself her fingers were crossing the distance between them and tracing along the scars. His muscles rippled under her touch, and she met his eyes again.

  He was nervous, too. She could see it in the way he moved to pull her closer against him, feel it in the gentle kiss he pressed to her lips. Somehow, his gentleness settled her own nerves, and she reached up to sink her fingers into his hair, stroking softly. Cynric grunted at that, a deep, throttled sound, and she shivered.

  “Come to bed,” he murmured, and within moments his fingers were undoing her dress, letting it pool onto the floor, along with the rest of his clothing. In the dim light of the crackling fire, she was tempted to hide herself under the blankets... but then Cynric’s hands were on her, running up her hips, over her stomach. A soft moan tumbled from her lips, and he smiled into her skin.

  “Your hands...” she began, then faltered.

  “Hmm?” The word was not so much heard as felt, rumbling against her neck.

  “They’re so warm.”

  He chuckled, and pressed the full length of his body against hers. Brida gasped softly into his lips as he kissed her again. The heat in his skin seemed to coil in her stomach, streaking lower like lightning. He was ready, and with every kiss she knew she was ready too.

  Cynric’s hands stroked her thighs, parting them gently. His eyes searched hers, waiting, and she nodded. When he hesitated further, she reached down and touched — it was true. He was hot as a blazing iron, even there. Her fingers wrapped around his manhood, squeezing, and he groaned, hips canting forward.

  She could wait no longer — the next time he kissed her, she flicked her tongue, urging him on, and wrapped a leg around him. He drifted down, pressing up against her, and Brida rubbed against him, testing.

  “Careful...” he murmured, “I don’t want to hurt...”

  “Shh,” she said, kissing him again. “I know you won’t.”

  It began slowly, and true to his word he sought not to hurt her. He entered her, agonizingly slowly, and after a long, slow thrust Brida pressed against him, urging him on. The heat rose in her stomach as every breath caught in her chest, she release
d them with moans and sighs that matched Cynric’s.

  She could feel the end too quickly, the heat boiling over, desperately clinging to him with every thrust, and at long last crying out into his shoulder. He followed quickly after, kissing her roughly, desperately, until at last he lay still on her, nose nestled in the crook of her shoulder.

  Her fingers found his hair again, stroking gently. He pressed his lips to her shoulder.

  “I have many regrets in this life,” he said as he rolled to the side and Brida curled up and pressed her ear to his chest to listen to his heart. “This is not one of them. I hope you feel the same.”

  “I do,” Brida whispered. She traced a finger along the line of Cynric's scar. “I never thought this is where my life would take me, but I do.”

  Cynric kissed her brow and pulled her closer, enveloping her with his warmth. “I will always protect you,” he said. Brida groped for Cynric's hand and held it tightly, letting the beating of his heart send her to sleep.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 22 of 40

  In the League of His Own

  Samantha Banks stood impatiently in line, waiting with her poster nervously rolled up in her hand and a blue marker. She’d been standing in the line for almost an hour since the football players had come out of the locker rooms after the last game of the season. Her team had lost, but it didn’t matter. Blake Stemmons was less than ten feet away. It wouldn’t be long before she was standing in front of him; close enough to smell his shampoo and look into his ice blue eyes.

  She was trembling with anticipation. He looked up at the line, grimaced and looked back down at the sports magazine he was signing for another fan. Samantha watched him look at his phone, scowling again and sending a quick text between fans. He smiled and talked to each person, but his actions were forced.

  More than once, she caught him looking up at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She smiled, feeling like a million bucks but also feeling a little self-conscious. The room was full of blonde haired, blue eyed bombshells in high heels and plunging necklines.