Why am I thinking this stuff? So what if he’s handsome? He’s an alien. A creature from another world.
Her body didn’t care about that particular detail. She was wet and her nipples had tightened with excitement as she’d imagined Kren making himself all man. A big man.
Her belly warmed. As she battled with her unapologetic libido, Kren’s eyelids fluttered. His mouth opened in a huge yawn and he stretched.
Jeannie’s eyes slammed shut before he could discover she was awake. Would he be able to tell she was aroused? If he did, what would be worse...him finding her repugnant or wanting to see how compatible he could make his body to hers?
Silently begging her heart to slow down, Jeannie forced herself to breathe deeply, pretending to sleep as Kren made more sounds of wakefulness.
* * *
Kren’s eyes opened, and he gazed at the face of alien beauty.
Jeannie hadn’t been just a dream. As he had floated up from slumber, a part of him insisted he’d imagined the whole thing: finding the legendary Tysu, discovering she was a real creature called a Hyoo-man, and learning she’d emerged from Monsudan labs.
Ah hell. He didn’t want to remember that last part. Not now while he looked at her unstriped but delicately beautiful face. A face that the hated enemy could not have created.
As he stared at her, drinking in the fact she was so near, it occurred to him how close he lay next to her. Her body was right up against his, soft in particular places and warm all over...and he’d not gone to the temple for relief in too long.
A demanding throb in his groin woke with the rest of him. Moving with speed but so as to not wake his guest, Kren got out of bed.
He shouldn’t feel aroused by her, not if she wasn’t of the Spirit. Not if she was made by the Monsuda. That would be too unnatural. Yet again, his own spirit insisted she must be a child of the All-Spirit. And since he was also a child of the All-Spirit, his attraction to her wasn’t wrong.
Unless wishful thinking had him all screwed up. That was always a possibility too. Kren looked down at Jeannie. She still lay motionless except for the steady rise and fall of her chest, which had been exposed during his exit from the bed. Those soft, pink-tipped mounds that had pressed sweetly against him, making him think of how it would feel to cup them in his hands, to perhaps even taste—
Another surge heated his groin. A choking sound bubbled up from his throat, and Kren rushed to the kitchen area. He had to stop thinking of her that way. She didn’t want him.
He rummaged around the area to put together breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, at least not for food. He needed to do something, though, anything to distract him from the urge to climb back into the bed, pull her into his arms once more, and kiss her until she was fired with a need that matched his own.
She’s not interested. Stop imagining such things.
He muttered to himself in frustration, “Sure, ignore what she’s doing to me when all I can do is think about her. Not just how she feels or looks, but the way she acts, like something intelligent. Like something real and not made by the enemy.”
He shook his head at himself. Why couldn’t he be rational about Jeannie? Why couldn’t he accept that she might be a false creation, a phony Monsudan construct?
It would be awful if she was, given his physical reaction to her. She was more similar to his species than some he’d enjoyed release with. Interspecies romps were a delightful diversion because Risnarish women somehow made Kren feel guilty for needing sex. Sure, they seemed to enjoy it, sometimes as much as he did. Yet they were of a different mindset. They were closer to the All-Spirit, their emotions calm and serene. For the most part, they were above the carnal urges that drove men, downright impersonal. They shared nothing that mattered to him, none of the warmth of friendship, or the love his guardians shared. Any time he needed release or was called on to breed with a Risnarish woman, Kren was left feeling like a supplicant. He tried not to visit them more than every ten days, a low number compared to Arga and many other men he knew. Even so, he imagined the women exchanging looks that said Kren is here again already. It was the same reason he tried to time it so he wouldn’t have the same partner twice in a row.
Not that he felt bad about requiring sex. It was a healthy and natural function, one the All-Spirit had been kind to make so pleasurable. Yet Kren had fantasies that he couldn’t imagine requesting a Risnarish woman to try. Not when he couldn’t even share his thoughts and feelings with them on a profound level.
Kren recognized his female counterparts were wise. They deserved the men’s protection as they studied the sciences and arts and led Risnar to technologies that made life ever greater and safer from the threat of the Monsuda. It was the technology created mostly by the women that gave lives of ease to those who wished it. It was medical advances, again mostly from the women, that gave the Risnarish such long and healthy lives. It would be the teams led by the women that would discover why large swaths of Risnar were dying, why the planet’s resources were failing beyond the borders of so many villages. It was the women who consulted their quiet, perfect spirits to learn the will of the All-Spirit. It was the female-led councils of elders, along with the help of the Assembly, that kept the village of Hahz and others the healthy societies they were.
In gratitude to the women, the men kept the peace, guarded against the Monsuda, farmed the land, raised the herds, and fathered the next generation.
Kren wanted something else beyond what Risnarish society granted. He desired something—no, he desired someone who would allow him to show the strength that filled him. He wouldn’t have said he wanted the women of his kind to be any less than they were, but he wanted to be more for them. He wanted to be allowed to show power, power he would use to demonstrate that he cared. He wanted someone special who would understand that he wished to help elevate her as high as she could go and that he would keep her uplifted.
However, the women he knew were already far above him. He could not seem to find a way to be the more that his spirit cried for.
He might have sought the counsel of his guardian Mekay for such confused feelings, but he couldn’t put them into words. All the Risnarish women required of him was to keep them safe, keep them fed, and let them continue to do all the things that made the men’s lives good. What more was there to do?
Jeannie needs more, Kren thought. She had strength of her own, that was obvious. If what little Kren had learned was to be believed, she’d escaped the Monsuda somehow. Judging by the signs, she’d survived on her own for at least several days. She was intelligent and creative.
She could use his strength as well. The Hyoo-man was in trouble on many levels. If she was judged to be of the Spirit, she would need someone who could champion her. For her, Kren could be the strength he’d always yearned to be for another. With her fragile body lacking armor or fangs or claws, she needed someone like him. Lost on an alien planet and hiding from the Monsuda, she needed him.
To be needed answered his own cravings. She would help him by letting him help her. It was so perfect that his mind reeled.
“I want to show her,” Kren muttered as he assembled two plates of food. “But first, I’ve got to get her figured out. I need to know what she is. Mekay will know what to do. I hope.”
He glanced worriedly in her direction, thinking Mekay might not see in Jeannie what Kren saw. To his surprise, Jeannie was no longer asleep. She sat up in the bed clutching the linens to her throat, those amazing eyes drowning Kren in their depths.
Her gaze lingered on him until she turned. She moved to sit on the edge of the pallet, exposing the length of her back to Kren. She reached for the dress covering she’d made the night before, still draped at the end of the bed. The linens slid away, exposing the curves of her shoulders, the line of her spine, and the rounded hips. Kren’s mouth went dry at the grace of her nude form, all those soft bends and bows of her body.
The seductive contours disappeared behind her curtain of bright, gilded hair as she tossed it back. He could almost feel its shimmering weight in his hands as he imagined shoving it aside to trace over her soft skin. His groin throbbed and threatened to swell.
I’m way overdue for a visit to the temple. He’d have to go for relief at the first opportunity.
Fortunately, she let the sheath fall over her body, masking it enough that sanity could return. Kren dropped his gaze down to the trays of food he’d prepared and concentrated on steady breathing. When he had control, he raised his head again.
Jeannie smiled at him uncertainly and said something incomprehensible in a soft voice. Perhaps she wished him a pleasant morning? It was what he would have done if the sight of her hadn’t knocked the breath from him.
He managed a gruff answer. She stood and moved around the pallet, stepping into a pool of sunlight that streamed down from the top of the dome. The sight of the beam illuminating her pale hair in a wash of pure gold captivated him. Damn if the dress didn’t cling too lovingly to her curves, reminding him of what it hid rather than distracting him from that knowledge.
Kren had to look down at the trays again. He lifted them in his hands, thinking he would take them to the table in the dome’s visiting partition where they’d eaten dinner the night before. He would notice her as little as possible. Yes, he’d concentrate on his food and stop the tide of yearning that grew stronger with each passing second.
He turned, eyes on the trays in his hands, and nearly walked right into Jeannie. He jumped, almost dropping the trays. He’d been so determined to rid himself of her spell that he’d never heard her approach.
She laid a soft hand on his arm as if to steady him. She laughed, the sound apologetic for having startled him. Kren’s determination to not look at her was lost as her eyes lifted to gaze into his. Eyes as blue as the heavens spreading over the dome, robbing the room of all the air he needed to breathe.
In self-defense, he thrust one of the trays at her. She took it with a grateful expression and said something that sounded like “Thaynk yew.”
He spun away, his hearts hammering, and hurried to the visiting partition. There was no escape there. Jeannie followed him to the table, sitting in the same spot she’d occupied the night before. She ate with appetite, making happy sounds as she did so.
Meanwhile Kren sat there watching her helplessly, chewing food that his throat felt too tight to swallow.
Chapter Six
Jeannie stepped outside the dome and shivered despite having changed into the long-sleeved blouse and skirt. The temperature had dropped overnight. She would need heavier-weight material if she didn’t find a way off Risnar soon. Autumn was coming if the falling temperature was any indication.
She studied the landscape now that it was light enough to see. The front lawn was a fascinating purplish-brown hue, lush and thick enough for her to enjoy digging her toes into. The earth sent up warmth to keep the soles of her feet comfortable, but the cold bit at her ankles. She didn’t just need warmer clothes. She needed shoes as well.
Between the diving temperature and the worried glances Kren sent her way, Jeannie needed to find her way home soon. Darn if she didn’t catch him giving her that anxious look again. Something was up.
A movement to one side got her attention. She turned her head and gaped at the huge creatures watching her from some distance away. Shaggy black fur hung off their bodies, long drapes of mop-like strands. They looked as tall as elephants with double humps rising from their backs like mountains. Their lower jaws seesawed from side to side as they chewed lazily on mouthfuls of the purple-brown grass that appeared well trampled around them.
“Ecal,” Kren said, standing behind her as she goggled. He rubbed his stomach and grinned.
Risnarish cattle. She hoped they wouldn’t come in her direction. They could stomp her little Earthling butt and never know it until they picked her out from between their wide-splayed toes.
“So you’re a cop and a rancher?” she wondered. “Wow. Throw on a kilt and you’ll be the trifecta of romance novel wet dreams.”
She noted one of the doglike creatures she’d seen around the village. It loped across the field where the ecal grazed. It headed their way. Its coat was a glossy reddish brown, and the long-snouted animal’s slate-colored tongue lolled out the side of its mouth as it came. Big, floppy ears streamed behind its head.
It reached a tall white pole, one of several that dotted the landscape. It came to a sliding stop before the pole and jumped up on two legs. Balancing precariously, it tapped the pole at the level of its head. A low hum Jeannie hadn’t noticed went quiet. The dog-thing dropped to all fours and trotted toward them at a more sedate pace than before. A moment later, the humming sound resumed.
Jeannie’s gaze darted from wary concern of the dog-thing to the poles in the field. They were arranged in a circle. The pole boundary surrounded the ecal, which had lost all interest in her and Kren. They put their noses to the grass and tore up mouthfuls to chew contentedly. She wondered if it was a kind of corral, with a forcefield to keep the shaggy ecal penned.
The dog-thing came ever closer, and Jeannie backed up against Kren. The dog-thing slowed and eyed her with as much concern. It came close enough for her to see the pupils of its pumpkin-orange eyes were diamond-shaped.
It came to a halt and turned its gaze to Kren, opening its mouth to show jaws full of small but sharp teeth. It made gruff noises, sounding identical to Risnarish speech. Holy cow, did the alien dogs talk here?
Kren answered it with a stream of alien-babble. The dog-thing looked at Jeannie again and cocked its head questioningly. Kren spoke again and gave her a slight push forward.
“Jeannie. Henis. Jeannie, Hyoo-man. Henis, Bonch Risnarish.”
How did one properly greet intergalactic pooches? Jeannie had no idea, but she doubted it was by demanding they shake paws. She nodded politely. “Hello, Henis.”
Henis’s Halloween eyes widened. His lips wrinkled in a doggy grin, then he dipped his head and spoke, adding a grumbly sounding rendition of her name. “Jeannie.” He gave her another quizzical look and darted a glance at Kren. His shoulders hunched as if to shrug, no small feat given he had a canine build. Then he turned around and trotted away, skirting the field and heading to a small, rectangular building at its edge. He moved with purpose. Maybe he was a field hand on Kren’s ranch.
Get along, little doggie.
First aliens who grew tails, and now talking hounds. Who knew what other surprises the day would bring among Kren’s people? Jeannie shook her head as she followed the striped man to his aircraft. She wondered if their next stop had anything to do with that nervous expression flitting across his face. She wondered if she should be anxious too.
On this trip, Jeannie paid attention to how Kren piloted the flying craft. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze when she glanced at him. Only once did he speak, when she started shivering from the cold breeze defeating the vehicle’s heat.
While warmth rose from the craft’s cockpit, the air coming in through the open canopy was frigid as it blew against her face and shoulders. Kren looked at how she trembled and gave her a gentle nudge, urging her to lean closer to the heating vent. He garbled something in an apologetic tone. The flyer’s speed slowed, easing the chill wind that swirled the warmth away. She smiled and shrugged at him, dismissing his contrite attitude. Why would he have thought of bringing covers? His armored skin kept him from feeling the elements as intensely as she. It was her own fault for not thinking ahead.
She missed feeling his solid chest against her spine as she leaned forward to let the heat bathe her. Though her front was much warmer this way, her back now suffered from the cold. The wind blew down her collar to reach icy fingers inside her blouse. She decided she preferred to lean against Kren. For the heat, of course.
They’d flown several minut
es when another flying machine rose up to flank them. Even with his helmet on, Jeannie recognized Arga, with his reddish-brown and ivory tiger stripes. His zebra-brush mane wavered in the wind as he flew next to them. He nodded in her direction, and she waved back.
On they flew. In the battle against cold, the trip seemed to last hours, but it was probably only fifteen minutes of domes and fields sliding beneath them as they journeyed to what must have been the other side of the village. Jeannie had not appreciated how big the place was where Kren and Arga lived until now, and she had the idea she saw only a small portion of it. Much appeared to be farmland, and the pastures and fields were vast. Odd pieces of metal machinery twinkled in the sunlight as they toiled over crops. From Jeannie’s vantage point, many seemed to be under the direction of the Bonch.
Jeannie and Kren both sighed with relief when the flyer drifted down to a smallish patch of brown-purple lawn in front of a dome on the edge of the village. Jeannie goggled at the strange shapes dotting the landscape around her. She barely noticed when Kren lifted her out of his craft and set her on her feet. She forgot she was cold as she moved toward the amazing wonderland of metallic shapes.
The structures were curved sculptures that moved. They twisted and swooped in the gentle breeze, abstract objects that embodied fluid motion. Perhaps the artist had attempted to capture the spirit of air, water, and other elements...or maybe even the breath of all life itself. If that had been his or her intent, that person had succeeded admirably.
No piece looked like anything she could name, but they all suggested something. One made her think of tall grasses swaying in the wind. Another brought to mind dandelion fluff dancing in the air. Still another suggested rolling waves at a seashore. On and on, she saw unrecognizable objects that seemed familiar.
Too fascinated to be concerned why Kren had brought her to this place, Jeannie wandered from sculpture to sculpture, each in turn whimsical, fanciful, astounding, and beautiful. Though constructed from silvery metal, none seemed to be truly solid.
Not of This World Page 7
