Inferno

by Nancey Cummings

  Amber pulled away.

  Cum jetted out, hitting the wet ground with a sizzle.

  She stared. It sizzled. No joke. Sizzled.

  No way was that ever going in her hoo-ha.

  Pel slumped forward, wrapping his arms around her. He murmured soft words of praise and affection. She returned his tender touch, all the while staring at the rapidly cooling, once-boiling, semen on the floor.

  How were they ever going to make this work without killing her?

  Pel

  Hours passed. The storm obscured the sun and made it impossible to tell exactly how much time crawled by. Pel did not mind.

  He had a fire, the taste of his mate on his tongue, and his mate sleeping peacefully beside him.

  Mishal stirred, his fire finally catching alight and reviving him.

  “Easy. You nearly froze,” Pel said, helping his triad brother to sit up.

  “How long?”

  “The storm will last another day, maybe two. You have not cost us any time,” Pel said, answering Mishal’s true concern. The time they had to find the Northern Valos, bargain for new heartstones, and return to the City in the Caldera grew short.

  Mishal starred into the fire and said nothing. Eventually his focus drifted to Amber. She had kicked off her blanket. He placed it back over her and gently stroked the hair on her blonde head.

  “She carried me at the end,” he said.

  “And made this fire.” Pel had no doubt in his mind that Amber’s quick actions had saved Mishal.

  “I could be mending our gear, fixing the cave, or a dozen useful things, but all I want to do is see to her comfort,” Mishal said. “I don’t understand myself.”

  “We have a mate.” Amber chose them as surely as he chose her. Initially, her commanding spirit called to him, but the more time they spent together, the more he recognized a kindred flame. She complemented their triad. “She will not be an easy mate to care for. The humans rely on her guidance. They will demand her attention.”

  “I understand your meaning. We will have to work twice as hard to make a comfortable home and protect her. The humans may call her away from the safety of the new village, or they may come to our home and expect hospitality.” He rubbed his heartstone. “I don’t like it. I am unprepared.”

  Pel stretched out, resting on his elbows. Shadows cast from the fire danced across the uneven ceiling. “I agree, we are unprepared in some areas, but we are not incapable of learning and adapting. I am excited to have a purpose that is more than battle.”

  “I have many ideas on how our home should be built,” Mishal confessed. “We will need a bed large enough for all of us.”

  Give the Builder a project and watch him dance with joy.

  “Valos do not sleep,” Pel said, enjoying how Mishal squirmed. “Unless there is another reason we require a bed large enough accommodate all four of us.”

  “I think only of her comfort,” he replied.

  “She can find comfort in a narrow bed built for one.”

  “I’ve enjoyed resting next to her these last few nights,” Mishal said. He looked away, toward the mouth of the cave.

  “Ah, well that is a different matter.”

  “You have suklaa nuts for brains,” Mishal muttered.

  Pel grinned, content at the situation. Despite the cold—and it was terribly cold—despite the blizzard, the large animal that tracked them through the snow before attacking, the time limit to return with new heartstones, and Flin’s uncertain fate, he felt happy. He was uncertain what to do with that new emotion.

  “Do you remember the songs the tribe used to sing?” he asked.

  Mishal huffed. “I have not thought of that in centuries.”

  “I feel happy. What did we sing when we were happy?”

  “I remember a song about drinking the fermented fruit wine,” Mishal said. He hummed, voice rough. The tune, if it had any, faltered with his coarse rendition.

  Pel recognized the song, despite Mishal’s best efforts to slaughter the melody. “Come to the old ghanon tree, my sweet. Come to the old ghanon tree and be my sweet,” he said, half-singing the lyrics.

  “Those are not the correct words.”

  “Do you remember the words?”

  Mishal frowned. “Not entirely. I’m sure I would know them if I heard them. Something about her ass being as round as the two moons.”

  Pel laughed. “Those might have been the words your fathers sang, but not in front of your mother.”

  “Now that I think about it, the words seem rather crude.” His eyes drifted to Amber’s sleeping form. “I bet her ass is pale enough to put the moons to shame.”

  Pel slapped his knee. If this was happiness, he welcomed it.

  Amber

  Amber ran the comb through her damp hair.

  “Let me,” Pel said, taking the comb from her. “You should not have wet hair in the cold. It is not good for your health.”

  “You an expert on human anatomy now?”

  “An enthusiastic student,” he said. As he pulled the comb through her hair, the heated teeth dried her hair. In no time, her hair was shiny and bouncy. Barely touching her shoulders, the length was longer than she preferred. Back on Earth, she always kept it in a short pixie cut. Rolling out of bed and getting on with her day was so much easier when she didn’t have to worry about fussing with hair. Of course, hairdressers hadn’t exactly set up shop on Sonhadra. She’d have to take a blade to her locks if she wanted a trim, or just learn to live with braids like Crystal and Denise.

  Mishal had improved the entrance to the cave, shaping the natural curve of the cave to make a windbreak and block the worst of the weather. He’d also improved the fire, creating a bowl for the coals and a wide stone lip around the fire. Amber could now heat water and food near the fire without placing her only pot directly in the fire. His improvements made the cave quite cozy.

  With the hot springs in the back, she could almost imagine herself at a rustic spa.

  Currently, Mishal attempted to fashion her a pair of snowshoes out of wood and leather cord. Two days of solid snow meant that Amber would be wading through knee-high or hip-deep snow. The guys could melt a path for her short legs and little human feet, but that would waste too much energy.

  Mishal held up the finished product. “The straps wrap around your foot and leg.”

  The shoes fit easily over her boots. Amber stomped around the cave, taking exaggerated steps. It’d take some getting used to moving with the snowshoes on, but it’d beat the alternative. “You should make a pair for yourself, too.”

  “Our legs are longer. We do not require this device,” Mishal said.

  “We don’t know how deep the snow is. What if it’s up to your knees? You’ll have to push through or melt all that snow, which will make you feel the cold all the more. Or you can be one of the cool kids walking on top of the snow. Just saying.”

  “You will not be cool. Physical activity will keep you warm,” Mishal said, brow knit in confusion. “But your suggestion is fair. Our journey will be easier with these shoes.”

  Amber didn’t know how he would make a pair to withstand his body temperature or attach them to his feet, as the valo barely wore clothes, let alone shoes. At the very least, the problem would keep his hands busy.

  Boredom was a serious issue. The first day Mishal slept, and Pel searched for food and fuel for the fire. Once the camp had been set up, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. Amber’s mind wandered, musing about the new village across the river and if there was a fresh water supply. The old village had been such a good location with fresh water, access to arable land to farm and building materials. Who knew what was on the other side of the river?

  Mainly she wondered about Pel and Mishal. Well, fantasized about, mostly. It seemed sex was all she thought about, like a hormonal teenager. Yesterday’s activities with Pel had been marvelous, but she wanted more.

  “Do you hear that?” Pel asked, head cocked to one side.


  Amber focused on the sounds of the cave. She heard nothing beyond the crackle of the fire and the drip of water from the hot springs.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly. The storm has ceased.” Pel moved to the entrance and vanished around Mishal’s wind block.

  He returned moments later. “I believe the blizzard is nearly finished. The wind is gone, but it continues to snow.”

  “How deep is the snow?”

  “The moons were behind the clouds. I did not have the light to accurately say.”

  Pel warmed himself by the fire and made a pot of tea. Once sufficiently steeped, he handed her the mug of tea, his long fingers brushing against hers started an ache in her core.

  “I’ve been thinking… about us. Our relationship. I have some questions,” Amber said.

  “Questions like what?”

  “So how is this going to work?” she asked.

  “Bone, perhaps, would be a suitable material,” Mishal said, engrossed in his own project.

  Pel shifted closer to her. “However you’d like it to work.”

  “I mean, do we do it one at a time? Or both together?” Not to mention Flin. Three guys. Her mind boggled. She just plain lacked the experience. Sure, she read romance novels and watched some porn when the mood struck her, but her tastes were basic vanilla. Maybe some double penetration, but that was a wild as her reading and viewing habits ever got. Porn did not prepare her for this situation.

  “However you like,” Pel said, tone reassuring.

  A goofy smile spread on her face. Her guys wouldn’t pressure her to do anything too adventurous before she was ready. “I mean, I’m not against the idea of… both… but I’m not…”

  Shit. The words dried up in her mouth. She’d had Pel’s face right in her pussy. She should be able to talk to him about her sexual experience.

  She drained her tea, mentally preparing herself for her next super awkward question. “What about temperature?”

  “Eh?”

  “Oh, you know—” She jerked her hand in what she hoped was a universe gesture.

  A knowing smile spread across Pel’s face. “Ah!”

  The temperature of his cum worried her. Lucie tolerated it just fine, but she benefited from a little mad science. Brandi, as far as Amber knew, had not been an experiment on the Concord. She was one hundred percent regular flavor human and seemed okay after loving on her guys. No weird, bow-legged walk or burns. Still, Amber worried.

  Yesterday, Pel’s cum had sizzled when it hit the wet ground near the pool.

  She couldn’t have that in her. No way was she getting a third-degree burn in her cooter.

  “You worry that my seed is too hot—”

  “Yes! You’re super hot.”

  Pel gave her a gentle smile and brushed back the hair over her ears. His fingers skated along the rim as if fascinated by this bit of her body. His own ears lay flat to his head, so he probably was fascinated by her goofy ears. “I can control my temperature with concentration.”

  “That sounds good on paper, but in the heat of the moment...” She rolled her eyes at her choice of words. “How much control are you going to have?”

  He caressed her ear again before tugging slightly on her earlobe. “I will think on this. I do not wish to harm you.”

  Amber nodded but remained unconvinced about how much control he would have once he was balls deep inside her. She knew how much control she’d have at that moment—zero—and didn’t expect much more from him.

  “Did you have a mate on Earth?” he asked.

  The word ‘mate’ caught Mishal’s attention. He dropped his project and scooted closer to her. “Are we talking about mating?”

  Selective hearing at its finest.

  “Was I in a relationship? No. I’m not a virgin, but it was, you know, one guy at a time.” If she wasn’t so frustrated, she’d cringe at her own words. One guy at a time, like she had a new partner every night. So far from the truth. Not only were Amber’s past experiences basic vanilla, they were infrequent. “Not that there were a lot of guys.”

  “How many guys?” Mishal asked, his tone implying curiosity rather than jealousy or possessiveness.

  “I didn’t have a mate. Let’s leave it at that,” she said. “I was just trying to figure out what you expected from me.”

  “Every triad functions differently with their mate in matters of sex. Sometimes it is one on one, other times it is not.” Pel refilled her tea. “My parents all slept in the same bed. I think I would like that.”

  “Not mine,” Mishal said. “My mother slept by herself. She said she’d never get any rest if my fathers were near.”

  Amber coughed, choking a bit on the tea. “Your mother talked about that?”

  “Of course. How else would I learn how to be a good male for my mate?”

  That made sense. Amber never breathed a word about dating, boys, or sex with her mother. The topic lay so far beyond the pale she couldn’t imagine how to approach it.

  Not that she ever would. The days of chatting about her sex life with her mom were long gone.

  Amber felt assured that Mishal and Pel would go at her pace and placed no expectations on her. However, Flin remained a major unknown. Would she like him? Would he like her? Would he be happy to wake up and find out that his husband-brothers picked out a wife? Would he ever wake?

  She hoped so. Otherwise this trip and this blizzard would be for naught. All those people needed new heartstones.

  It had to work.

  “How did Flin get captured?” she asked. During the few moments Pel and Mishal could spare to spend with her in the caldera, they told her of their journey to find Flin and bring him home. When they left, they did not know where he was, alive or held against his will. His disappearance had been a mystery until they spoke to the Ventos, a type of valo that controlled air, and learned of Flin’s fate.

  “He is a Hunter,” Pel said. “At the time, Sheenika—” Mishal made a hissing noise. “Sheenika orchestrated a campaign in the east. We battled many valos, including the Ventos. Flin was used to scout ahead. You know that he did not return from his mission.”

  “Why did the Creators make you fight each other?”

  “Boredom,” Mishal said, tone harsh. “Once Sheenika crafted her dolls and built her City in the Caldera, she had nothing else to do.”

  Pel waited patiently until Mishal finished his tirade. “I believe it was to test our capabilities and weaknesses. Fire Valos are especially vulnerable to the Ventos and the Water Valos. And the cold, apparently.” He had alluded before that his fire needed to breathe.

  “No oxygen is bad. That’s true for a lot of things,” Amber said. “So what’s he like?”

  Mishal dropped his project and gathered her into his lap as if he picked up on her need to be comforted.

  Her guys were the best. She leaned into the inviting warmth of him, resting her head on his shoulders as he rubbed her back. He did not give her empty words of comfort, just the solid comfort of his presence. Seriously, her guys were the best.

  “What can we tell you of Flin?” he asked.

  “Tell me a funny story.”

  “Hmm.” Mishal continued to rub her back while he thought.

  “Flin always wants to see what is beyond the next hill,” Pel said, filling the silence.

  “He used to say that whatever the question, the answer is yes,” Mishal added.

  Pel chuckled. “He once vanished for a moon. The tribe thought he had been eaten by an ak’rena.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a funny story,” Amber said.

  “It is. He went to look for the icaito.” Pel and Mishal burst into loud laughter. Amber bounced on Mishal’s lap as his body shook from laughing.

  Mishal. Laughing.

  Stunned, Amber turned to make sure her handsome grump hadn’t been replaced with someone with a more jovial personality.

  Nope, still her good-looking grump. Wonders never cease.


  “I don’t get it,” she said, perplexed at their amusement.

  “The icaito,” Mishal said, voice wheezing, “is mythical. It is born of the fire once a generation and dies in fire. It is said when the twin moons align, the icaito is reborn.”

  “Oh! We have a similar myth. The phoenix is a mythical bird that bursts into flames when it dies and then it’s reborn from the ashes.”

  “The icaito is not a bird. It is a four-legged animal large enough to ride with wings strong enough to fly and horns for battling its enemies,” he explained.

  No way.

  No freaking way.

  “A unicorn pegasus. That’s so cool,” Amber said. She refrained from gushing about the Alicorn or how a cartoon about brightly colored ponies taught her that friendship was magic, but she had to maintain some level of cool.

  “After his mother wept for her lost son and his fathers ceased to search the forest for his body, Flin came back to the village,” Pel said. Amber wanted to ask if Flin had his icaito but held her tongue. “All he had to show for his efforts was a battered old sacoa feather. He swore to the two moons that it was from the icaito. When asked why he did not capture the icaito and ride it back, he said it was too wild and beautiful to capture. He only wanted to see it with his own eyes.”

  “I believe him,” Amber said. If Mishal and Pel’s story was true, she knew she would like Flin. “You can’t put a harness on something that majestic. It belongs to the world, not one person.”

  Pel patted her head in a sympathetic gesture. “You will be bad for his ego. He’ll want to show you all the wonders of Sonhadra.”

  “Or drag them to our door,” Mishal said.

  “Or that,” Pel agree.

  “Do you think he’ll like me?”

  Mishal’s gave her a squeeze. “He won’t stand a chance.”

  “You should sleep now. We’ll search for Kira at dawn,” Pel said. He quickly shook out her bedroll and arranged her on it between himself and Mishal.

  Surrounded by warmth, worry about Kira, Flin, and her place in the triad gnawed at her as she drifted to sleep.