by Poppy Rhys
She was the half naked captive being married off to the villain.
Her eyes slid to the side, looking away from her reflection in the rounded, clouded mirror. A gift, from Tishee.
“How much longer?”
As if sensing her unease, the pace of the music sped up, making her skin itch. She raked her fingers across the skin of her arm.
Tishee breathed, saying something quickly to Brinn.
“It is time.”
I’ve got this.
She tried to coach herself into believing it wouldn’t be so bad, because none of this would be legally binding on Dor Nye.
I’ll laugh about this one day, maybe even write a memoir. ‘My Life with a Big, Green Asshole’.
Ehh, no. People would get the wrong idea.
She’d have to think on the title.
Fin lifted her chin. She’d appease these Yarian’s. She wouldn’t beg for them to understand Hunter picked the wrong woman. Never. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.
She would figure out a way to get off this primitive planet. Somehow or another.
The door swung open, the muggy air laced with the oncoming evening chill. The smell of wood smoke and roasting meat grew stronger.
She followed Brinn, Tishee at her back.
Looking down, her eyes bugged.
Hundreds of Yarian’s gathered on the ground below near an enormous fire that was stacked with large logs placed in a steeple.
Everyone stared up at her. She wouldn’t stumble.
Finley knew the village was huge, but apparently it was beyond anything she realized.
Heat rose to her face, realizing the entire village would see her topless on this day, and there was nothing she could do about it. Covering herself in this moment, it felt like a cowardly thing to do.
She would not be cowed. Proudly, her chin jutted upward.
Eyes inspected the crowd, landing on Hunter.
They locked gazes.
That heat in her face intensified under his fierce stare, like he was eating her up already.
It stirred a familiar feeling deep within her belly, making her skin tingle and her fingertips ache to touch his emerald skin.
Focus.
She couldn’t think like that. Had to keep the end goal in the front of her mind, which was getting the hell out of here.
Upon the ground, the crowd parted as she was led through. She searched, gaze pinging around the area, but she didn’t see an altar for any kind of sacrifice or bloodletting.
Chill, Fin.
Brinn didn’t give many details on what would happen, opting she should enjoy it for herself. Experience it for the first time. Understandably, that made her all the more suspicious.
She wondered how many of the females here would enjoy being partnered off to someone who kidnapped their asses.
Then they could talk to her about ‘enjoyment’.
Soon, she was standing before Hunter, looking up at him.
He grasped her hand, leading her to stand before an elderly Yarian, his gray hair long, thin, and bedecked with beads and shells. Hide of a skinned animal draped over his shoulder, necklaces and bracelets adorning his weathered body.
Hunter faced her, and she faced him, their hands dropping to their sides.
The music stopped, the silence weighing on her ears even more heavily than the incessant drumming, then the elder began to speak.
Yarian.
She couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but everyone in attendance paid attention to his speech as if it were holy, reverent.
Binding.
****
“May Leeshi, The True One, bless this union.” The Tishani said the opening words to the ceremony. Hunter knew Finley couldn’t understand him, as she didn’t know his tongue yet, but that was expected. No mate of the Shu’Lee knew their tongue right away.
In time.
His stubborn Mi’ska, who was currently a shade of purple, would learn his language, as she would have no other choice.
The Tishani continued on, speaking of Hunter’s bravery in completing the Shuluh, honoring his people, and leaving only to return with a female that would help usher in the next generation.
His mood shifted, because no one knew just how wrong those assumptions were. He spent five years of dishonor, trapped in a cage, and Finley, his mate, would have no younglings.
They would not contribute to the next generation, and it reminded him of what could only be punishment from The True One for his past transgressions, and bullheadedness.
****
Fin startled when an infant Yarian was thrust into her arms.
Her eyes widened, attempting to give it back to the female, but was stopped when Hunter laid a hand upon her arm.
What the hell?
The Tishani continued speaking, rattling some instrument over Fin’s head, and then Hunter’s.
What. The. Hell.
The babe in her arms wailed, and Fin’s nerves rucked up multiple notches. Knowing nothing about younglings, she pulled on the only insight she had about them.
Romance vids.
In the vids, women always bounced crying babes in their arms. She gave it a whirl, propping the infants head on her arm.
It slowly started quieting, and a surge of satisfaction, and incredulity, pumped through her veins. Her lips twitched and she looked up at Hunter.
His intense gaze was strange, shadowed. Bitterness? Longing? She could decipher.
And then the infant barfed on her.
****
Hunter’s lips twitched, pulling at the edges until he was chuckling along with the crowd. They cheered while his mate looked like she was enduring a special kind of hell.
“Good fortune!” Tishani cheered. “This union will bring many young ones!”
His mirth slowly faded, and he watched as the infant’s mother gently removed the bundle from the human, handing her a cloth to wipe herself.
Soon, he was slicing into a piece of fruit, giving half of it to her. He put it to his mouth, gesturing for her to do the same, and then bit into it.
It was meant as a promise that he would always provide for her.
He would, he realized. In fact, he wanted to.
Hmm…
Surprise etched his skin, making him feel at odds.
Next, his father handed him the folded hide of the weqna he’d killed as his final task of the Shuluh. He shook it out, and with the Tishani’s next words, he draped it over Finley’s bare shoulders.
It symbolized his vow to always protect her.
Leeshi help him, because he would protect her, fight for her.
What was happening? What had changed?
****
Fin’s skin shivered when his fingers brushed against her bare shoulders after he draped some kind of hide over her.
On a final hoot from the Tishani, the crowd erupted, the fire roaring as it sparked with colors of green, blue, and purple.
Hunter grasped her hand then, lifting it high and facing the Yarian’s as he howled along with them. It was almost like a victor holding his prize.
Yet… Fin found herself smiling, because Hunter was showing one of his rare grins, and it lit up his face like he was truly happy. He was oddly handsome when he smiled.
In the next instant, he pulled her close, pushing a lock of her hair from her face. The motion was tender almost, and she felt her breath escape her.
Those lilac eyes pierced into her soul, and then his lips were falling on hers.
As if unable to stop herself, her hands reached up, threading into his hair as her nerves lit on fire and his kiss drowned out the crowd.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The night was full of celebration as Yarian’s around her feasted, danced, and played their primitive musical instruments. For the first while, gifts were laid at their feet by strangers. Strangers who chattered their good wishes at them, and each time, Hunter would translate for her.
At some point, she asked him how to say �
�thank you’ in Yarian. It felt wrong to accept gifts and not be able to properly show gratitude.
“Pioshna.” He informed her. Fin sounded it out on her tongue, and when she practiced it a few times, he gave her a quick nod.
How many times she said it afterward, she lost count.
“What are we going to do with all of this?” Fin asked him, touching another rolled up, furred hide. Baskets, clay dishes, tools, crafts, and animal skins piled up.
“Use them.”
Fin pursed her lips, cutting him a glare.
The corner of his mouth hitched in the smallest of grins.
And then, to her surprise, he rose to his feet, pulling her along, and into a dance when the next song was started by a band of aliens.
She watched as he did some complicated footwork, and then turned around to go back to her seat, because she definitely didn’t plan to make a fool of herself. He snatched her hand, pulling her back to him.
“Ah-ah, little human.” He tsk’d, fully grinning now. “Dance with your Shu’Lee.”
Something pulled in her chest, and a warmth spread to her fingertips before she said, “My Shu’Lee, huh?”
“Yours.” He said this close to her ear, his warm breath fanning her sensitive lobe.
And then he spun her around, eliciting a surprised squeal. Through the crowd they stomped their feet, twisted, caressed each others skin, laughed, and drank as the fires glowed late into the night.
Fin lost count of how many times he stole kisses from her, and she wasn’t sure he was the only thief, because she sought his lips multiple times too.
Despite her apprehension during the ceremony, she found herself truly enjoying the party. Every time Hunter laughed, that deep, rich sound curling her toes, she couldn’t stop from smiling.
The night raged on, and every time his lips found hers, they lingered longer and longer, until Fin felt herself pulling him from the dancing crowd toward the bridge that led up into the trees.
She laughed against his mouth when she stopped along a platform to pull him in for another caress. His scent flooded her lungs, lighting up her body as if he were a live wire.
“Which one’s yours?”
Fin didn’t know what lodge to go to.
“You mean ours, Mi’ska?” And then he led her by the hand. When they came upon his lodge, Fin grabbed him again, pulling his mouth to hers. She sucked on his full lips, mingled her tongue with his, careful of his fangs even in her frenzied state.
The door burst open, and they tumbled in. Breaking the contact, Hunter kicked it closed behind him before snatching the ru’mi off her hips, and then his own. Her flower laden boa drifted to the floor.
“I yearn,” he told her in between fevered pecks, “Mi’ska.”
Fin moaned, feeling his warm hands travel her body so expertly. She couldn’t get enough of his warmth, his touch, his scent.
They crashed into a wall, and Fin gasped, bursting into laughter before he found her lips again. The slight buzz of the fermented drink heated her blood and went straight to her head. Any inhibitions she’d had flew out the window, and she felt herself move brazenly against his body.
Hunter lifted her, his hands cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his torso, her arms around his neck, and devoured him.
They tumbled down onto the raised bed, Fin’s body bouncing against the myriad of furs. They shared another hiccup of laughter, and then he was leaning up, pulling her new slippers off her feet.
“Did you like my gift, my mate?” His lips kissed the inside of her ankle after he removed the covering and tossed it to the floor, the other following suit, and then he was back over her body. His warm lips found a nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth.
Fin’s body sizzled, her core heating, and tightening with arousal. God, she loved the things his mouth did to her body.
“Mhmm,” she moaned, remembering he asked a question. Her fingers laced into his hair, gripping his skull as she arched her back, pushing more of her breast into his mouth.
“Must protect,” he said in between suckles, “your weak human flesh, Mi’ska.”
Wait, what?
Fin’s eyes snapped open. She blinked, desire drenching her mind and making it even harder to process information. Hunter groaned as he moved his attention to her other breast, stroking and licking.
“Weak flesh?”
He ‘mm’d, the vibration thrumming through her skin, and making her eyes droop.
“Stop,” she said faintly, unsure if she really did want him to stop.
Another groan, his hand slipping down her inner thigh.
“I said stop!” Fin shoved at his shoulders, surprising him.
He raised from her, holding himself up on his hands, his breath mingling with hers before he said, “What? What’s wrong, little human?”
“Get off me.” Fin pushed at him again, slapping him away as she wriggled out from under him.
“What did I say?”
“You called my flesh weak!”
“Because it is.” he huffed, rolling to his side and looking at her with that familiar mixture of hostility and desire. “Get back in this bed, human.”
“Go to hell.”
He growled, tugging at her arm until she was nearly back under him.
“This body is mine!” His voice was wrathful. “I could just take what’s mine.”
“You think so?” Fin’s breath was harried, her patience nonexistent, and her anger at its peak. “Just try it asshole!”
Hunter jumped from the bed at lightning speed.
With a brutal roar, he punched an interior wall, blowing a hole through the wood. Splinters flew in multiple directions, and then he punched it a second time.
Finley shook, fear spiking her blood as she watched the alien go into a full on rage.
He paced, grunted for air, threw things, cleared every surface in the room, and then his eyes fell back on her.
He reached her before she could blink, his large hand shooting out and encircling her throat.
Rancor hummed off him.
She felt the pressure against her skin when he began to squeeze.
“Go ahead!” She screamed, her body tremoring so badly her vision jittered. “Do it! Put me out of my misery!”
“Ahhh!” He thundered close to her face and then bared his menacing teeth, snapping them loudly like he wanted to bite her face off. His massive chest heaved with each breath he breathed, eyes wild and lit with irrational fury.
Then he let go.
He snatched up his loincloth, and left, slamming the front door in his wake.
Fin collapsed in a shivering heap on the bed.
****
Days later, Finley walked through the large field of yellow and cyan reeds, her bare feet dredging through the slick mud. The hard rain from the night before had softened the ground, which was a good thing apparently, according to Brinn and the other Yarian women scattered about the area.
The rain softened the dirt, making it easy to dig for the reeds roots. Kuse, she called it.
“Good when dried,” Brinn grinned, nodding. “Feevnu. Cold season. I teach you how make.”
It seemed Brinn was bent on teaching her how to do everything a regular Yarian woman did.
Just that morning, she washed a big armful of Hunter’s loincloths, and ‘feevnu’ coverings. She felt as if she’d been catapulted back in time, being made to do ‘women’s work’ while the men were off hunting, or whatever it is men did when women were still viewed as feeble, delicate creatures only capable of cooking, and picking weeds, and birthing young.
It peeved her.
Fin didn’t want to pick weeds, or wash Hunter’s barbaric underwear. She didn’t want to go out hunting either.
She wanted to go home.
Home where it was clean, she could wear proper clothing, get back to her job, her friends, and family, and most importantly -at least at that moment- where women were equal to men, and there was a damn projector.
What she would give to veg out on the couch and catch up on her weekly dramas.
Not to mention, her alien captor wouldn’t be there.
“Pull hard.” Brinn instructed her, bending to grasp a reed cluster by the base.
Fin watched her yank, giving the reeds a twist before the mud gave up the gnarly roots with a slurp. She held it up triumphantly before tossing it on the sled of roped planks.
Right.
Fin bent down, wrapping her fingers around the base of a cluster, just as Brinn had, and pulled.
Nothing happened.
She dug in her heels, feeling the goop etch up the back of her ankles, and tugged honestly. Fin felt the smallest give, and she quickly twisted.
The plant sucked from the mud quicker than she expected, sending her backward. The thick mud didn’t give up her feet easily, and down on her ass she went, specks of mud from the roots splashing her in the face.
She cried out, bewildered.
Brinn snickered, other women around the field giggling as Fin scrambled to her feet. Black mud coated her entire backside, including her wrist to elbow.
She huffed a sigh, tossing the stupid cluster onto the sled.
“Good, good.” Brinn encouraged.
Determined, Fin bent down, picking another cluster and pulling. She was careful that time to twist when she had a good balance.
When it pulled free, she was still standing.
“Ha!” She yipped successfully and tossed the plant down on the sled before moving to another.
The more plants she dug up, the easier it became.
This is my life now.
Rooting around in the mud.
Over and over she bent, pulled, and twisted until her and Brinn had filled their sled. She was sweaty, her hands were sore, and her back was aching from all the bending. It was really no wonder all the females she’d seen were slim.
They were work horses.
Finley helped Brinn pull the weighted sled across the village and to the stream where they both began chopping off the reeds and washing the roots.
She taught her how to tie them together and string them up.
“Let dry.” She informed. “Then work…. Umm…”
