by Ruby Dixon
I stiffen at first, but his touch is very matter-of-fact. It’s like he realizes I just want to get clean and won’t monkey around, despite the enormous erection he’s sporting that says otherwise. And it’s kind of . . . sweet, I guess. He’s not touching me to be a creep. He’s touching me because he wants to show me how to use the soap. I begin rubbing the strange, fruity-smelling lather over my arms and legs, and when he scoops a handful off my shoulder and begins to wash my hair for me, I moan with pleasure.
Being clean has never felt so amazing.
I hear him inhale sharply. Hear the vibrating purr start in his chest again. He murmurs something, voice thick, but all he does is wash my hair. No demanding touches. No insisting of anything. Just pleasure in touching me. In pleasing me.
Actually, other than the fact that he startled the hell out of me with the oral sex thing, he’s been kinda sweet. Everything he’s done has been designed to please me and give me pleasure. I digest that small bit of information. Maybe it’s the Stockholm syndrome talking. Maybe it’s the fact that with Vektal, I’ve felt safe. Safer than I have in the last two weeks. But I don’t mind his touch. In fact, I kind of like it, probably a lot more than I should.
I can’t look at him while I’m—we’re—bathing. My cheeks feel hot, because every so often, he leans in closer and prods me with that enormous cock of his, and it makes me think of dirty things. Of his mouth on me. The suede-like feel of his skin against mine. His warmth. His intriguing scent.
“Shorshie,” he murmurs, his hands caressing my scalp.
“Gee-or-gee,” I correct him. There must not be any g sounds in his language, because he slurs them.
“Shorgee,” he tries.
“Gee,” I prompt.
“Shhhzhee—” he begins, then stops and tries again. “Corgee.”
I giggle. Corgi? Not quite. I turn around and point at my mouth to show him how to move his tongue. “Georgie.”
His fingers brush over my lips in a tender caress. “Zheorzhe.” Then, he tries again. “Geeeeorgie.” His g is practically purred.
“Very good,” I say, my voice soft. I’ve just now realized that I’m practically pressed up against him and I’m naked.
“Georgie,” he repeats, purring my name again. Then he takes my hand and places it over his chest, where he rumbles like a cat. “Georgie sa-akh Vektal.”
The way he says it, with my hand clasped against his heart, makes me think it has a bigger meaning than I’d like to imagine. His gaze is intense, as if he’s waiting for me to respond.
He’s an alien. I remind myself of that, even as it occurs to me that I can convince him to help me—help us—escape the other aliens. The captors that want to sell us.
This has to be a multi-layered plan, I figure. Vektal’s planet is cold as hell and, judging from his gear, probably isn’t past the Stone Age. But I refuse to give up hope of a way back home. I just know it’s not going to happen with the little green men or the ball-headed aliens. They think we’re cattle.
Vektal’s my best bet.
Maybe I’m using him a little when I rub my fingers on his chest. They’re cold in the frigid, snowy air, and my nipples are hard. I rub up against him deliberately, letting him feel my body. I lick my lips and then look up into those alien, glowing blue eyes.
And I point at the mountainside in the distance, where I know that so many women (half in pods) are waiting for rescue while I play bubble bath with a native. “Take me up the side of the mountain?”
He caresses my face, a question in his gaze. “Moun. . .tain?”
“Yes,” I say and trace my fingers over his skin. “Up there.”
His brows draw together, and he gives a shake of his head indicating that no, he’s not taking me there.
All right then, time to pull out the big guns. “Vektal,” I murmur. “Do you know how to kiss?”
The alien’s blank expression tells me he has no clue what I’m saying. Of course he doesn’t. So I put a hand to the back of his neck and pull him closer to me. He’s warm, and I rather like the feel of him blocking out the chilly wind. “Kiss?” I say again, and then I lean in and brush my lips against his.
The look on his face is stunned. It’s like it never occurred to him that people would put their mouths on each other. I stifle the giggle threatening to erupt and drag a finger down the front of his chest. “I can show you more things . . . if you take me up the mountain.”
I know I’m playing with fire. Offering him sexual favors in exchange for rescue probably isn’t the greatest plan, but I’m working with the weapons I have. As long as he’s fascinated by me, I can use that. It’s mercenary, but people’s lives are at stake. If I have to kiss an alien and flirt with him to get a rescue to my friends, I will.
It’s not exactly a hardship, I have to admit. I’m still thinking about his mouth on my skin from last night. The way he licked me until I came. And the way he is staring at me right now makes me think that sex with him wouldn’t be something terrible to be endured. It’d be slow and full of discovery and oh-so wicked. And I’m not hating the idea. Not by a long shot. Maybe I’m not in the right frame of mind to be entertaining sexy thoughts, but I can’t help it.
I play with fire a little more when I drape my arms around his neck and press my breasts to his warm—so warm— body. His cock pushes against my stomach insistently, and I ignore it, twining my fingers in his thick, black hair.
Vektal leans his face close to mine again, his gaze flicking to my mouth and then to my eyes. It’s like he’s asking for another kiss but unsure how to go about it.
“Do aliens not kiss?” I ask softly, leaning in to brush my lips over his again. “I’ll show you how to do all kinds of kissing if you’ll go up the mountain with me.”
“Moun. . .tain,” he repeats, and his eyes narrow. He puts his fingers to my mouth and then his, and then repeats it again. “Georgie mountain?”
“That’s right,” I say, pleased he’s getting it. “Take me to the mountain and Georgie will kiss you again.” I press my fingers from my lips to his.
That shrewd gaze watches me. He leans in, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he only nuzzles my nose. “Georgie . . . mountain,” he says in a low voice, and then I feel his hand slide down to my bare pussy, where he drags his fingers over my folds. “Mountain.”
I gasp. It’s as much the startling, arousing touch as it is what he’s asking. He wants me to have sex with him if he takes me up the mountain.
I consider for a long moment, gazing up at him. Then I reach down and grip his cock. “Georgie mountain,” I agree, and I give him a quick stroke under the water. You take me up the mountain, this is what you get.
He groans and tries to push against my hand, but I release him just as quickly. “Mountain,” I insist.
“Mountain,” he growls and pulls me against him, his bigger body pressed to mine. For a moment I panic, wondering if he’s going to just take what I’m bartering. But he only rubs his nose against mine again and then releases me, pointing at my clothing on the bank.
Hot damn, we’re going up the mountain. Rescue party of two, coming right up.
We dress quickly, and I make a face at having to put on my filthy jumpsuit again. The chill in the dry winter air is even worse now that I’m wet and cold, and Vektal insists on me covering my wet hair with the cloak. It’s a good idea, but it’s still icing up in the brutal cold. Maybe a quick dunk in the river wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but I’m clean now.
He hauls me back onto his shoulders, and then we set off up the mountain again. He’s carrying on a grumbling narrative that I can’t make out and occasionally pats my cold hands. He points out landscape, but if I’m supposed to see something other than snow, I can’t make it out.
We head up the hill steadily for what feels like forever, and I’m getting colder by the minute. My teeth chatter, and my head feels like a block of ice. I’m cold and hungry, and the raw meat I ate has only made me hungrier. I didn’t realiz
e how far down the mountain we’d come until I look up and it seems that the rocky crag that holds the ship is hours away. Which only makes my teeth chatter harder.
The steep ground slopes toward a steep cliff I don’t recognize, and I’m surprised when Vektal heads right for it. He sets me down, says something that probably means “stay here,” and then moves to the base of the cliff and begins to dig. I watch him for a few confused moments before I realize he’s uncovering the mouth of a new cave.
He’s not taking me up the mountain at all. He’s taking me to another cave.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I explode. “No! Vektal, we’re going up the mountain!”
The alien turns and gives me an irritated look. He lets forth his own stream of narrative, pointing at my ice-covered hair, the fact that my teeth are clicking madly, and that I’m shivering. He continues talking, gesturing at the cave. I don’t have to speak alien to know what he’s saying.
You’re cold. We’ll stay here tonight. Fuck going up the mountain.
And I can’t leave the others for another day. I just can’t. I’m freezing even with his borrowed cape, and they have nothing. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, and no shelter. I’m so frustrated I could scream.
Instead, I turn and begin to stomp off, heading to what looks like the path up the mountain. It winds up the valley wall, laden with snow that’s trickled down from above. It feels like I’m wading through water, but I’m not going to give up. If I have to march every step back up the mountain to get Vektal to go with me to see the others, I will.
“Georgie,” he calls from behind me. Then he bellows out the sharp syllable I now know is “No.”
I ignore him and march even faster.
“Georgie, no!”
Too late. I don’t see the shadowed snow before I realize that when I step too close to the cliff wall, my foot doesn’t connect with anything. The ground beneath my feet disappears, and I scream as I slide down an icy crevasse for forever.
Only it’s not forever. It’s ten, maybe fifteen seconds. Then I drop and ploof into a pile of snow at the bottom, and lie there stunned. Vektal’s not so far away that I can’t hear him shouting my name from up above.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. I can’t wait for the alien I was right, and you were wrong he’s going to deliver to me. I sit up and wince at the throb of my bad wrist. It’s getting worse all the time.
Something shuffles nearby, and I freeze. I look at my surroundings for the first time.
I’m in an ice cave of some kind. Icicles hang from the ceiling. Snow drifts line the walls, and, up above, a trickle of sunlight bleeds in.
It’s enough light to let me see the two dozen eyes staring back at me.
I’m not alone. And I’m in deep, deep shit.
PART THREE
GEORGIE
I stare around me uneasily. Somehow, I’ve fallen through a hole covered by the falling snow. It’s a stupid misstep, and it seems that this planet is absolutely riddled with caverns, because I’ve landed in one.
And this one’s occupied. Really, really occupied.
A dozen pairs of eyes stare at me out of weird, fish-like faces. They’re kind of human, kind of not. They’re bipedal and have two arms and legs and are tall. Taller than me. Their eyes are enormous in their pointed faces, their mouths small and round. They look almost cartoony, except for the matted pale hair that covers almost every inch of their bodies. And they smell like a wet, dirty dog. Ugh.
One hoots at me, the sound querulous.
“Hi,” I say softly. I don’t move a muscle as they gaze at me. It’s clear they’re trying to decide if I’m friend or foe. They remind me a bit of Wookiees from a Star Wars movie—Jesus, I’ve really got to get my mind off of Star Wars—except for the fact that they’re white and have enormous eyes. And tails, I realize as one creature moves forward, his tail flicking back and forth like an irritated cat.
It cocks its head and studies me. Then it hoots again.
“Georgie,” Vektal snarls from above. “Georgie!” I hear his hands scraping against the ice above, and snow rains down on my head.
“I think I’m okay,” I call up to him.
The tail-flicking creature lifts its head and hoots at the air again, sounding a bit like an owl.
More snow flicks onto my face, and I peer up. The rocky cavern has a hole up above, and Vektal’s desperately scraping at it, trying to clear enough space for his much larger body to follow me down. He looks frantic and bellows another command at me that I don’t understand. Is it “stay put” or “move” or what?
I look at the bug-eyed yeti-things.
One tilts its head at me and wags its tail faster. It’s almost like an ugly puppy. Almost. I smile and get to my feet slowly, noticing that the “puppies” are all a foot taller than me. “Hey there,” I say, keeping my voice sweet and soft. Maybe if I treat it like a puppy, we’ll get along just fine. When its nostrils flare and the tail thumping increases, I extend my good hand out so he can sniff it.
Immediately, the creature snarls. He slaps my hand away and gives me a vicious shove. I give a startled little scream as I fall to the ground. Another creature pounces on me right away, pulling on my hair and my clothing. Another hoots and throws snow at me. I realize they aren’t like puppies at all, but more like vicious, angry monkeys.
And I’m in an entire den of them.
The hand twisting in my hair pulls hard, and I scream again, trying to slap it free. Another smacks my injured ribs, and the breath gets knocked out of me. I cough and roll around on the ground, trying to protect myself from their wild swings and hooting calls.
From above, there’s a wild, ferocious roar. Then the entire ceiling seems to cave in.
Vektal. Thank God.
Something heavy slams into the ground, and the creatures screech and retreat. I squeeze an eye open just in time to see Vektal roar with fury, the sound vibrating with intensity. The entire cavern shakes, and I watch as he draws his blades.
The creatures back up even more.
I don’t blame them—Vektal looks utterly terrifying. The light in his eyes is blazing, and his fangs are bared with fury. I’m even a little frightened when he turns his gaze toward me.
But then he scoops me off of the ground and flings me over his shoulder, caveman-style, before storming his way down an entirely different passageway. The creatures hoot and scream at him, and when one pounces, I feel Vektal’s big arm sweep it aside as if it’s nothing.
They cluster about, shrieking, and one grabs at my hair again, fisting a handful before I can bat it away. I cry out, and Vektal turns, this time with a knife.
The creature’s dead before it hits the ground.
I gasp at the sight, but then Vektal’s slamming through the cavern, pushing his way through the grabby creatures, and I’m so relieved at the sight of sunlight a few moments later that I want to weep.
We’re out of the cavern, and the creatures aren’t following us.
That doesn’t mean my alien stops, though. He continues on, trudging through the deep snow with a sense of purpose that makes me a little intimidated. I’m still waiting for the I told you so.
But I’m cold and freaked out, and I say nothing to protest my stupid move. If he wants to play caveman, as long as he keeps me safe, I’m fine with that. He’s angry. It’s pretty obvious to me that he’s rather furious, actually. He mutters under his breath in an angry tone, and his body is tense against mine. And the thing that sucks the most is that I can’t even apologize for stomping off. We don’t have the words. I’m so frustrated and unhappy that I want to kick something.
Except my entire body hurts from my fall, and my ribs feel like they’re on fire. So instead of kicking something, maybe I’ll just cry instead. If I do, though, the tears will probably just stick to my face.
This whole damn planet is against me.
I’m feeling pretty miserable when Vektal sets me down in the snow and glares fiercely at me. “Saan tes.
” He points at the ground. “Tes!”
“Stay here. Got it,” I mumble, feeling guilty. I cross my arms over my chest and wait.
He gives me an exasperated look and then heads a few feet away. I notice we’re right back at that stupid cliff wall with the buried cave. We’re right back where we started a short time ago, except in the meantime I’ve had half my hair pulled out by rabid yeti, acquired a few more bruises, and now he’s pissed at me.
I hate this place. I hate that it’s cold and it’s snowing all the damn time and everything wants to eat my freaking face. I hate that I’m wearing a smelly, gross jumpsuit and that I ate raw meat and that there are a dozen girls up the hill who would probably kill to be in my place at the moment, and I can’t even feel grateful.
I just feel miserable.
I do my best to fight back exhausted, frustrated tears, but they’re coming on anyhow. I’m shaking and trembling from cold and misery, and by the time Vektal digs out the mouth of the cave and enters it to make sure it’s safe, silent tears are leaking from the corners of my eyes and freezing on my lashes. Because of course they are. Not even his cloak is keeping me warm now, and I stifle a stab of resentment that he’s practically in a tank top and leggings and seems to be just fine with the weather.
After a moment, he emerges from the cave and indicates it’s safe to come in. I join him, and it’s not much to see, the interior a small grotto hacked out of the rocks that opens up near the cliff wall and then snakes further back into the earth. There are supplies near the front, another leather door hanging, a few furs for warmth, and a small stack of what looks like cakes of mud and some wood. It’s cozier than anything I’ve seen recently, and it’s out of the wind. As Vektal pushes the leather covering over the entrance to block out the rest of the snow and wind, it’s dark inside.
