“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“If I was, do you think I would be asking directions?” Gray snapped, annoyed with the lack of intelligence this group seemed to have. “So are you going to help me or what?”
“I’ll help you,” Orange Hair snickered. ““But what are you going to give me in return?”
“My undying gratitude?” Sarcasm rolled off his tongue like honey from a jar, smooth and thick.
“I was thinking you could show your gratitude in other ways,” Orange Hair continued. “Like showing me if that hair color is real.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Gray took a step back. “I am so out of here. I’ll find my own way.”
“I don’t think so!” Yellow Hair growled as he grabbed Gray by the wrist, jerking him to a halt. “Something’s not right about this.”
“Yeah, like the stench coming from your person!” Gray struggled a little to get them ready for the chase.
“I’ll show you stench,” Yellow Hair growled as he applied a stinging pressure to Gray’s wrist, bringing a gasp of pain and sending him into an automatic reaction.
Snarling, before he could stop himself, Gray’s right hand fisted. And faster than the eye could blink, he sent the rock-hard fist flying at Yellow Hair’s face. Not expecting his maneuver, Yellow didn’t duck and found a fist planted deep inside his face, knocking him a foot up and off of his feet, and out of consciousness.
“He hit Garl!” Peach yelled. Gray took off, racing back the way he had come, shaking his hand as he ran.
“Stupid, overbearing, Neanderthal son of a…” He stopped swearing as the sound of the pursuit drew closer. Darting around the nearest boulder, he looked up and nodded to Gethla who had the knock-out agent in her hand. The first huge rock struck Orange Hair directly on top of his head, rendering him unconscious instantly.
Peach Hair stumbled over the fallen body of his comrade, swinging his arms wildly for balance. He never saw the fist Gray sent flying into his face. It connected with a meaty thump and Gray followed through with a swift kick to the stomach, knocking his bandit out as well.
“Treat me like a piece of meat,” he growled as he straightened his robe and ran his hand through his hair to smooth it down.
“What?” he asked as Gethla began giggling at his actions.
“Nothing, Gray,” she laughed. If he didn’t know, she wouldn’t tell him. Besides, his little feminine movements were amusing to watch.
Chapter Twelve
Getting the bugs to move was a challenge. Knowing that their time was limited, Gethla raced toward the side of the hideout where a wooden enclosure was erected to keep the Chroan inside their corral.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Gray suppressed a shudder as he observed the sea of Chroan milling before him. There were millions of the beasts. Well, a few hundred, at least. All of those beady eyes, all of those swaying antenna, all of those bugs and not one shoe big enough to squash them all.
“We have to get them to move.” Gethla held her robe in her hands, not wanting to trip on the dark, silky material.
Gray eyed the bugs with repugnance. “How did you get them to move in the first place?”
“I use the bow, but that would bring the other rustlers here.”
“What powers that thing anyway?” he asked, curious about her weapon, which seemed little more than a bent piece of wood any time it was not her use.
“It is tuned for me, Gray. It was created for me. It reacts to my jewel. Other than that, I do not know.”
“How did you find it?”
“My father. He was near the Mysterious Lake and he found it. But it only seems to work for me. The Wise Men said that it was meant for my use.”
“Hmm.” Gray decided to ponder the problem later. There had to be a reasonable answer. “So how do we get them to go? What draws their attention?”
“Food.”
“Good, so go and cook one of them up.”
“Sweet foods, Gray. And I fear I have none.”
“Will they move if we yell at them?”
“No.”
“If we throw sand at them?”
“No.”
Then he noticed her robe. As the wind attempted to tear it from her grasp, he noticed that a few of the bugs’ heads were following the movement. They had four sets of eyes, he thought. So it would only be right that movement would catch their attention. “Can we round them up if we flapped a robe at them?”
That gave her a pause. “It’s never been done before, Gray.”
“Okay. So here is the plan. I’ll get your pink bug…”
“Zy.”
“Okay, I’ll get Zy, and I’ll open the fence. Since you’re so comfortable with the bugs…”
“Chroan!”
“Okay, Chroan, you go out and wave at them, get them moving. I’ll circle back to pick you up and away we go. You can do your herd thing and we’ll be at your village before the rustlers know they were rustled.”
Gethla smiled, staring at his bare chest, and decided his plan made sense. He had yet to pull the robe on correctly, and his upper body was lightly muscular and bare, a tasty treat for her eyes. “You flap your robe at them, Gray.”
“There is no way in hell you’re getting me to walk among the roaches, Gethla. I’ll jerk off for your amusement, I’ll walk like a hooch in front of men more feminine than you are so that we can knock them out, I’ll even ride on the back of that overgrown bug you’re so attached too. But there is no way you’re getting me to tiptoe among the Chroan and get up close and personal with the ugly bastards. Riding on one is enough. Put me in the middle of them and I’ll be a blithering idiot.”
His words were serious and final. Gethla knew there was no way to talk him out of it. So she soon found herself in wandering into the middle of a Chroan herd, avoiding the multitude of swinging legs and swatting away antennae that got too close. Suddenly she felt very small and unsure, as had never been required to be in the midst of the beasts without being seated on her Zy.
“Gray?” she called out as she heard the wooden gate squeak open.
“Do it now!”
Gethla found herself whipping her robes over her head. Standing in a field of Chroan was disturbing, but doing it wearing just your foundation bindings was more than a bit frightening. Her skin was so tender and their exoskeletons were so tough…
Before she could dwell on all that could go wrong again, she waved the robe above her head. Nothing happened. “Woo-woo!” she called out, and she garnered the attention of a few who came over to sniff at her robe, but that was about it. How was she going to get all of their attention at once?
“It’s not working!” she called to Gray.
“Woman, they’re your bugs. You should know what makes them tick!”
“They liked your scent, Gray. Perhaps if you made your cock spurt again…”
“Forget it, woman!”
“Maybe you can ride in so that I may mount Zy? You are the taller one. More would see you if you…”
“Hell no!”
What was this hell anyway? “Gray!” she screamed, exasperation and frustration in her voice. “We have to do something!”
“Whip them!” Gray shouted back.
“Whip them?”
“If something goes wrong, you must whip it!” Obviously, she was not attuned to great eighties music. “With your robe! Whip them! Into shape, shape them up, get it straight!” he sang. “Go forward, move ahead, try to detect it, it’s not too late! Whip it, and whip it good!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she screamed as she flung her arms out in frustration, snapping the robe and deciding that the word felt damn good rolling off her tongue when she was upset. The robe snapped with a whipping sound that made Gray crow in delight.
“That’s it. Whip that robe! Whip it, and whip it good!”
Gethla’s eyes turned to the robe she held in her hand as awareness dawned. The robe made a snapp
ing sound as she flung her arms out. The sound, combined with the motion, had grabbed the attention of quite a few Chroan. That whip it thing could possibly work.
She raised her arms again and snapped the robe, sending it flying in the direction of a stubborn purple Chroan that studiously ignored her. The snapping sound and the movement of the whip caught its attention and it began to move away from the annoying human. Giggling, she turned to another and snapped her robe again with the same results. Again and again, she snapped her “whip,” deciding that it was fun as the Chroan began to slowly move toward Gray and the open gate.
“Whip it!” she cried out, snapping at the Chroan and soon a slow mass exodus was under way. This was going to work. “Whip it good!” she screamed, in imitation of Gray and let her robe fly, staring one huge Chroan directly in one set of beady black eyes.
“Oops!” she yelped as the Chroan began to click and skitter and rear. It landed on top of a fellow herd mate and it too set up a loud clicking before it turned to attack its attacker.
“Gray?” Gethla eased away from the growing melee. But the fight had begun as more Chroan were brought into the battle as the two bugs began to fight in earnest. Within seconds the sand was began churned up as Gethla fought to get away and the Chroan began to…
“Stampede!” Gray bellowed. Suddenly there was a loud skitter as Chroan began to break toward the gate that Gray was trying desperately to tear down.
“Gray!” Gethla called out as the first frightened bug raced past her, almost knocking her off her feet. The wind it kicked up as it passed blew her hair out in a bright pink puff as another raced round behind her. She was trapped as the bugs began to run, leaving her in the middle of a sea of colorful bodies all capable of crushing her with a small misstep.
“Gray!” she called again, dodging around the racing bugs. Spitting dust out of her mouth, she tried to make it to the nearest fence. Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a sea of brightly colored death. Coughing and sputtering, she desperately tried to see the fence, to get away from this madness as fear clouded her mind.
Was this the way she would die? Suddenly, all that she thought to sacrifice for the greater good of her people seemed to pale in the face of what she had accomplished in her life. She would die not knowing true, deep, meaningful passion. She would die without ever having experienced anything remotely like the life Gray felt she should have. She would die without ever making a decision for herself, without ever doing anything for herself.
She was pathetic. Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back as some inner coil of strength demanded that she keep fighting. She might be pathetic, but she would never just let death come for her. She would fight it with everything she had. Snapping her robe before her, she tried to clear a path through the angry clicking Chroan. Her arm began to tingle, then grew numb and heavy as an ache settled deep within the muscles, but she kept fighting.
Using her free hand, she beat at the legs and backs of the beasts, forcing them out of her way as she began to make progress. But it was the roar that gave her pause, for it was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard. It was an enraged male, his deep purple, almost black exoskeleton glistening in the sun. Seriously annoyed, it roared its displeasure and reared up on its back leg, its eyes tracing any moving object on which to take its ire out.
Gethla, with her swinging robe, swatting arm, and flying hair was obviously that object. Without warning, the Chroan began to charge, all six legs churning up sand. Gethla looked around her, but saw nothing but the backs of the unmoving Chroan behind her, to the sides of her, preventing her escape. “Gray,” she whispered, the enigmatic man the last thought that roared through her head as she faced her death.
The bug charged closer and closer, so close she could see herself pictured in all four sets of eyes. She sucked in her breath, one tear falling down her cheek, as she waited for the Chroan to introduce her to the sweet mysteries of death.
“Yee-Ha!” The bellowing roar made her jump and her head jerk to the right as a blaze of bright pink, a flash of flying black hair, and the lithe form of Gray filled her eyes. She had time to gasp, then Gray blocked her view of the enraged male. She found her arm gripped in a steely grasp and she was flying through the air.
“Gotcha!” Gray cried as he tugged on the reins and sent Zy skittering in a circle. They raced out of the way, so close to the big bull that the air of his passing ruffled their hair. “Hi-Yo Pinky!” Gray roared as he directed the Chroan toward the entrance gate, using his reins to whip the beasts on either side and clear a path. Gethla turned back, her face still reading shock, and saw the bull swallowed up by a mass of bright swirling colors. Then they were through the gate, the clicking Chroan right behind them.
“I think that made my dick hard!” Gray shouted as the whole brightly colored herd of Chroan raced after them, their chittering announcing their move. He tightened his grip on Gethla as he crowed his delight to the heavens.
He would never forget the sight of her, frozen in her fear, as the huge bug charged at her. His own fears disappeared when faced with the thought of losing the pink-haired woman. He could not survive without her, not with the knowledge that she was dead and he had done nothing to protect her! Visions of her bloodied and trampled body gave his courage a boost and leant his voice an air of command that even the skittish Zy could not refuse.
One more second and he would not have been holding the squirming woman across his lap. All his opportunities to have her, to hold her, to instruct her, just to plain be with her would have been lost. But now, elation filled him as he felt her wiggling, shuddering, laughing and crying, and being totally alive across his lap. He wasn’t lying about his cock being hard.
“We’re burning daylight!” he cried. He whooped again and forced Zy to the head of the herd. And maybe burning up the bed furs tonight, he thought to himself as they raced off into the sun. It wasn’t a sunset, but he’d take it.
Chapter Thirteen
Lifting her gaze to him, Gethla laughed. “We did it!” Giggling, she struggled to stay on the back of the racing bug as she rested across Gray’s hard thighs.
“Woo Hoo!” Gray shouted, one hand on the reins while the other struggled to hold an armful of wiggling woman in place. Exhilaration filled him as he realized his plan worked. They had outsmarted the three rustlers with minimum damage and retrieved almost all the Chroan.
He turned to Gethla, only to freeze at the sight of her pert rounded bottom thrust up in his direction. Instantly all thoughts of holding back with her vanished. His tension had been riding high ever since she’d pulled off that damn robe and paraded around him in those tiny scraps she considered undergarments.
“Gethla,” he breathed, his eyes dilating as his heart began to pound in his chest.
“Gray!” she laughed again, then felt the tension zinging through his body. Her eyes traveled from his tight face, down that heaving chest, and straight to the hardness that suddenly prodded her in the ass.
The arm wrapped around her waist suddenly tightened and the world spun madly for a moment. When it righted itself, she found her legs draped along either side of his thighs, her back pressed tightly against his chest. Her body shuddered, a low heat snaking through her abdomen and down into her legs as she felt his warm breath against her neck.
“Say yes,” he purred, the vibrations sliding through his chest to quiver within her body. She knew what he was asking. She knew it was wrong. But how could she say no? She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted this man. She had to have him, she had to have something for herself once in her life. “Yes.”
“God, Gethla!” Gray exhaled a breath he didn’t recall holding.
“Yes.”
His hands, hard and warm, traveled over the bare skin of her abdomen, caressing the strong muscles that quivered at his touch. Her hands went up and behind her, wrapping around his neck as she arched into his touch. Her head dropped back to rest on his shoulder, her face turning into his ne
ck to breathe in his masculine scent. “I want you so badly.”
Gethla couldn’t stop squirming. His light touch was making her feel things she had never experienced. Her nipples hardened beneath their thin silken barrier and gooseflesh rose up on her exposed skin.
“Ohhh,” she moaned as his hands slipped beneath the barrier to graze the firmness of her small breasts. Her head dropped forward, sending a cascade of cotton candy hair flowing over her stomach and his hands. “So good, Gray.”
His hand sought out her hard nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he let the rocking rhythm of their steed slide her silken body against the skin of his chest. “Let’s get off of this bug.”
Gethla couldn’t have agreed more. She wanted more of the feelings that Gray was causing in her body. They slid off the Chroan. Gethla’s whole body shuddered as her breasts were bared to the dry wind and his hungry gaze.
“Damn you’re hot.”
Gethla thought for a moment, then decided that she wasn’t that hot. Tingly and breathy, and there was that strange throbbing longing that had settled between her legs, but she was not hot. She looked up to ask him what he meant, but as her eyes met his, his mouth began to descend.
Is he going to—
Then his lips touched hers. What breath she had left, left her body in a rush as his lips, soft yet firm, pressed against hers. Fine tremors shook her arms as she raised them to wrap around his neck. Gray groaned and pulled her tighter as her taste exploded in his mouth. Groaning, his fingers buried themselves in her hair, massaging her scalp and tugging at the long strands. Damn, she felt perfect in his arms. Lifting her in his arms and never breaking the kiss, he lowered her to the robe he’d laid out for them. But as his knees hit the sand, he decided the robe was not enough protection. Shifting, he turned his body and sat on the hard ground, positioning her legs so they straddled his lap.
By this time, Gethla decided that she liked his kiss and was ready for more. Her hands raced over his bare chest, pausing at his swollen nipples. “Ohhh.” She ran her hands over his pecs, her thumbs brushing his hardened peaks.
Threshold Volume 2 Page 15
