by Amanda Milo
I careful curl into his side. “How weird is this?”
Ryan picks up Caedon, peering into the beady yellow eyes. “Scale of one to ten? Undefinable, but we’ll deal.”
I can feel that my smile is crooked when I blab, “Does it help to know they have a bit of a refractory period?” My muscles tense, afraid I shouldn’t have gone here, shouldn’t venture near any details about the sex. Now I feel like I sort of have to commit though. “Their ‘feeding’... they can only have sex once every few days.”
One definitive nod. “That does make me feel better.”
Relief. “Really?”
His fingers spear into my hair and he uses this grip to pull me out of my hiding spot at his throat so he can look me in the eyes. “Damn straight. May not be able to ‘feed you,’” he finger quotes the air, “But I can be here to satisfy your orgasm quotient for the day.”
I move my lips to his neck, and smile into his throat. “Yes, please.”
I watch him pluck a hank of fur from his friend, and pop it into his mouth.
Strange. “It’s like troll hair,” I observe, fascinated, as Ryan takes another bite of Caedon’s fur.
“Cotton candy,” he either adds or corrects, I can’t tell, but I’m weirdly, morbidly captivated watching him munch on it. “It even sort of disintegrates once it mixes with saliva.”
“Interesting.”
He grimaces. “Geez. Be glad you get magic dick. This ‘food’ tastes like shit.”
I choke a little but try to nod sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
He glances up, his expression losing its irritation at the food, instantly replacing with concern. “I was kidding. Come here,” he says as he catches the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his. When he allows me to pull away, it’s only far enough that our eyes can focus on the other, and I watch his dance when he breathes against my lips, “Told ya.”
His playfulness is so not what I expected—I laugh.
Then I gag.
He grins huge, and lets me go completely. He’s having a grand time watching me wipe my lips with the back of my hand. “Ugh, you weren’t kidding! That’s awful.”
He nods.
I scrape at my tongue and try to talk at the same time, so my words come out wet and garbled, but I manage. “I can share magic dick with you.”
He shudders into his next handfull. “No need,” he answers easily. “I’ll eat my friends, thanks,” and to leave no doubt, he scoops up Caedon and drops him on his lap before he tugs me so I’m squished into his side, the spot between my legs still happy and a little beard-burned.
CHAPTER 24
MACEOUS
“Dude. I’d like it very much if we could stop hugging like this.”
I heave Ryan upward. It isn’t that he’s heavy; it’s that he’s unwilling. If he had claws, he’d be digging them into the bed, forcing me to peel him up out of it. I sigh.
“Don’t breathe on me.”
“Sniveling spore,” I growl. “Do you want me to carry you up, or would you like to bathe with a pitcher and basin again?”
“Really wish we could have arranged this back when I was still wearing pants.”
Preta, who is keeping an apprehensive watch beside me, reaches up and pats him on the stomach. “For what it’s worth, you look pretty hot in a loincloth.”
He points to her, then to me, his finger nearly stabbing me in the face. “Exactly what I’m afraid of.”
Preta laughs, and I take full note of Ryan’s transformation; he relaxes, he falls silent, and the smile that spreads across his face is sardonic, and pleased.
I grumble about being grafted to husbandmen with such a choleric dispositions all through the tunnels—and I thank sunshine for females.
Once we’ve exited the hometree, I shift to my Guardian form, and Preta’s obvious awe at seeing this causes a proud curl of amusement to bloom inside me.
“Here,” Ammos says, edging up to me, already Shifted. I place Ryan on Ammos’ back and despite Ryan’s curse-laden complaining about being shuttled to ‘yet another lizard,’ he seems rather pleased with his new station high above the ground.
He reminds me much of my older brother, who was the cantankerous husbandman in his group of husbandmen.
It seems there’s a sour one in every pod; I assumed I'd fill the role.
How was I to know ours would in fact have two.
I feel the row of scales that cover my upper lip pull tautly upward at the corners.
Ryan glances at me before complaining, “Mom, tell the dragon it’s creepy when he smiles.”
Preta’s arms contort as she skids to a halt. Her lip curls in horror. “Eww.”
Ryan throws back his head, and the laughter that erupts from his throat sounds more like a bark.
She is busy sending him a look of mock disapproval, so she is startled when Chor takes her hand. He guides her to stand at the area just behind my shoulder, where he boosts her onto my back before he clambers up himself. He’s nearly at full strength again, but there’s no need to tax him when I can easily be responsible for the journey.
“How is your leg?” Preta calls to Ryan, her tone full of concern.
“Dunno. Might have been a little accidental brilliance to do this after all; stretches it without bearing weight.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugs. “I’ve no fucking clue, actually,” he admits. He grins at her, and I feel her knees squeeze my sides. “But I prefer to do the riding rather than be the one getting cuddled.”
“Stop it,” she sounds like she’s covering her face, but her voice holds mirth. “They’re trying to help you. Play nice.”
“You—
Ammos’ snort cuts off their banter, and flower petals float down to the ground as he shakes his head at them. He takes lead, pulling ahead of me.
I hear Preta’s surprised, “We’re not flying?”
I turn my head enough so that I can see her while keeping a side-view of the path ahead. “It’d likely be too taxing on Ryan’s leg,” I explain. “Until he’s strong enough to use it to help him stay upright and on during flight, this way will be the smoothest mode of travel. There is also the benefit of you both having the chance to see more of your new home.”
“Oh, thank you! Very thoughtful—and appreciated,” she adds. She is quiet a moment. “What’s in the bag?”
Since I carry no bag, I know she’s got her attention on Chor. I can smell tar soap, and I imagine he’s been using his recuperation period to make it for her.
In Guardian form, we’ve not had need of soap. I’m impressed he remembered how to create it.
I watch when he gifts it to her; she’s surprised, and touched, and I find I’m pleased by extension.
This is an interesting development. Her happiness, our accomplishments to that end; we’ll all feel the effects.
I’m especially impressed at how Petrichor appropriated her presence so smoothly—I’m not certain if his guiding her towards us, rather than putting her with Ryan, was intentional. But as Chor stays unnaturally quiet, I’m starting to believe he’s giving me time with her, and offering her a chance to grow comfortable with me.
I am simply at a loss on what to say to put her at ease.
“Beautiful garden.”
Thank sunshine. I heave a massive sigh of relief, and feel four knees adjust their grip on me.
I stop walking, and see that Ammos halts too, close enough that Ryan can hear also. “This is Geoss. Over there is Micha, and that is Dikar, Granith, Prakrti, and then Adarian—
“You name your gardens?”
My back dips when I twist my neck enough to fully face her. “Our people all have names.”
I’m not surprised she shows no comprehension. The Kahav are a tribe tied to the earth; her people are different—she’s never encountered the like in her own tribe. I look to Geoss again, seeing what she must see; flowers on a hill, gracefully growing in a line. They follow a path along his form, and I know when she s
ees that they make his Guardian shape because she rears back, blinking in shock. I nod at her. “These are our people when they go to earth.”
It’s clear she doesn’t only find the sight beautiful: she finds it sad. “What happened to your people?”
I drag my snout back and forth against my shoulder. “When the Ruler arrived, we worked. There’s a city of ruins not far from here—it was a great place once. It was nearly completed when blight came. Our females succumbed quickly, and their husbandman followed.”
She leans forward, stretching out her fingers, but can’t reach me. After a moment, I press my snout to the underside of her hand, and she drags her nails up and down in just the right spot. “Where is your Ruler now?”
Sighing with relief, I straighten and start off again, forcing Ammos to move forward. “His workforce was gone. He abandoned the survivors too young to be of any good to him. He’s never returned.”
Ryan looks at me over his shoulder. “You're unbelievably chill about being exploited.”
I shrug, which makes Preta curse with a laugh and catch the bases of my wings in order to keep her seat. She’s in no danger of falling; Chor would never let that happen, and I imagine he just wrapped his arm around her, because Ryan’s expression moves to a resolved sort of acceptance.
He’s trying. When he looks back at me, I incline my head. “We’ve had lifetimes to understand we can't change it. It’s simple: rail at the unfairness, or move on.”
I feel Preta’s hand stroke softly between my shoulders.
CHAPTER 25
PRETA
It’s simple: rail at the unfairness, or move on.
Staring through water so clear I can see to the bottom, to a rainbow of color like I’ve never seen before; it feels possible to accept everything that’s happened—and to move on from it. Everything right here is peaceful. Right here, it feels like this is all that really matters.
I've got a baby to raise, and the makings for a strange-but-awesome family for this baby.
I’ve got to thank the programming; I’m not completely useless with grief over my family. I worry about them, but it’s like it’s being monitored and kept at a controlled level.
Charlie’s safe. Dad’s fine. I feel it. Carry on.
I could be wrecked over this, but at some point I have to choose to find the happy. Maybe this is my programming talking, but I feel like I can have it here if I try. Right now, it doesn’t feel as if it will be hard.
I scrubbed like a madwoman the moment I was submerged, and now I’ve been soaking, just enjoying the… peace.
The guys are all lounging—on rocks, in the water, and out of it, and they’re giving each other crap, and soaking up the sun, and Ryan’s even laughing with them, shooting the breeze, comfortable with their presence.
Relaxed looks good on him.
Happy looks good on him.
It all feels good on me.
I drag my hand over the rocks below me. It’s not that ‘this rock looks sort of pink,’ or ‘this one kind of greenish’—no, they’re inspired-by-crayons bright shocks of unreal colors, making this lake possibly the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.
And I’ve seen dragons made out of trees. My bar’s kind of high.
Speaking of dragons, it’s a good thing our baby is going to grow up around them and live in a great big hobbit-tree because little Drogan-Sol is going to need all the help she can get. When we arrived at the shore, I said it looked like a rainbow had broken into pieces and rained down, and Ryan stubbornly refused to get excited about it. He was all, “Water droplets in the atmosphere that catch sunlight and refract aren’t going to ‘break into pieces’ and turn into rocks, babe. Sorry.”
I’d clutched my stomach, talking over him, and offering advice right to the occupant of my womb. “Ignore him. You’re going to be amazingly creative. Somehow, you will not inherit his anti-imagination gene. Mostly because there can’t be two of you. There can’t be!”
“Is this about the cloud gazing?”
“This is totally about the cloud gazing! You won’t watch the clouds with me; I’ve got to raise somebody who will.”
He caught me and pulled me into his chest. “I’ll watch you.”
“Awww,” I’d started to say, melting.
His breath warm on my face as he looked down at me, he’d promised, “I’ll gaze on you while you watch the collected moisture—”
I’d thrown my hands up between us, shoving at him. “Ugh! Stop! You’re terrible.”
Even now, I’m still shaking my head at him, and every time he catches me, he’s still laughing.
I purse my lips at him, and pull my tongue away from my upper palate to make that disgusted little “tsk!” noise. Sad. Just sad.
Secretly though, I’m loving the sound of Ryan’s laughter. Petrichor’s too; they’re each on partially submerged slabs of rock, done bathing and they genuinely seem to be enjoying each other’s company.
It makes my brain happy.
It makes my programming happy too.
My stomach however, is not happy. It’s growling, and I’m getting nervous butterflies, because I’ve hit upon the realization that the more hungry I am, the more it drains my… husbandmen.
One day, I might be able to say that word and not blink. A lot.
For now, I shake off the weirdness trying to settle over me. Talking with Mace today eased my anxiety quite a bit. Instead of having him watch me quietly suffer, all while knowing that he’s going to pay for it after, I need to start taking the initiative. Pep talk taking effect enough to embolden me, I press through the hip-high water, and make my approach.
Ryan seems to have spied something, and when I delay a second in order to see what’s caught his attention—an odd sort of calcified-formation—he sputters, “Those look like… wellheads… turbine… and is that a condenser? What the…! Earth power. ‘Earth power!’ You guys have geothermal power sources? You treat gunshot wounds with decaying vegetation but you have geothermal power? Are you kidding me?”
CHAPTER 26
MACEOUS
Chor wears a sly grin, but he sobers it to a mock-offended expression. “What? Did you think we were a band of jungle savages?”
“YES.”
I chuckle along with them, appreciating this camaraderie, enjoying the sun heating my moss. With direct light this strong, I don’t feel it growing at the moment.
When Ryan’s eyes drop from mine, I look down too, and find Preta—looking up at me.
I’m not surprised; the Sproutling has been getting louder and louder in its tiny demands. “Ready?” I ask her.
“You make me nervous,” is her reply. Her eyes go round and the water laps around her as she stiffens. “I didn’t mean to say that outloud, but there you go. I… need nectar. Would you like to be the one to… do you want to have sex?”
My smile is slow, but genuine, especially as her facial color intensifies. “I would like this very much. Thank you for inviting me.”
She skims the water’s surface with her hand. “Yeah, nothing in life has prepared me for this conversation. I feel like I’m the one that should be thanking you for feeding me with your... Where should we do this?”
Slowly, I bring my hand up to press her hair back. She was watching the water though, not me, so it startles her. She recovers quickly, even bringing her hand up, bumping into mine before I take hold of it and guide it to trace over the flower I just placed behind her ear.
This one has been growing on my chest since Ryan blooded me. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to gift it to her, and my heartstone glows brightly when she smiles.
I glance at Ryan. His gaze is on my hand, where it has taken Preta’s, and he’s lost most of his easy joviality.
He doesn’t appear angered, or saddened though. Accepting. He appears accepting. And when his eyes meet mine, one side of his mouth kicks upward. “I’m onto your flower secret. Friggin’ overachievers,” he calls.
He teases. My heartst
one flares, and Chor says something that makes Ryan good-naturedly slap water towards his face, and a subtle tension steals out of Preta’s shoulders.
I squeeze her hand lightly, and get her smile in return.
Setting off, I lead Preta behind the waterfall she was exploring earlier with Ammos. Though the water isn’t rushing hard, it makes enough noise and is moving at enough of a volume that we’ll have privacy here.
The water level in this spot is higher—mid-level on me, but on her, the swells of her breasts just tease the surface and are proving quite distracting.
I wait patiently for her to reach for me, but she does not.
I regard her in silence, thinking that it will allow her to collect her thoughts.
What it does, is unnerve her.
Her gentle boldness from before has fled somewhere, and I don’t know what I’ve done to chase it off, nor do I know how to coax it back. Ammos has been deferential and downright docile where she is concerned. I imagine Chor is much the same.
There is nothing submissive about me, but judging from the interactions I’ve observed when she is with Ryan, I don’t believe Preta minds. Yet she is uncomfortable, pulling further away from me, taking great interest in the tiny cavern we stand in, examining the curtain of water that gives us this haven.
It must be something about me; she’s clearly struggling with how best to proceed with me.
I don’t ask her if she’d rather have me approach. I just do.
One step in her direction has me towering over her. Her lips part, a silent breath escaping, and her beautiful eyes, nearly the same shade as the tender insides of a mehyam nut, lock with mine.
The sound of the water breaking as I bring my hand up to cup her face has her jerking, but she settles, and from the side, I execute a stealth touch, skimming my palm along the comley curve of her hip. When I lean in to catch her lips, her eyes go hooded.
I slide my hand to her mound.
A tap of prevernal pollen has her gasping into my mouth, has her latching onto my shoulders, buoying herself in the water so that she can scramble up my body.
Her lower covering is ruched up between us, so it is nothing to knead the luscious handfuls of her rumpflesh. I caress her smooth back, sighing against her cheek when I pull away from her mouth to breathe.
