Highland Barbarian Alien (Possessive Highlanders Book 1)

by Leith Briar

“You asked for that. You should not provoke me, Sophia, not when I am like this. Not when I cannot fucking control myself.”

  My heart thuds against my ribs and I feel the blood rushing to my ears. Everything about him is different now, his appearance, his tone, even the way he smells. Everything is stronger and harsher and more brutal.

  “Let me go,” I tell him. I need to get out of here, away from him, away from everything. I’m pushing on his hard body, using every ounce of strength I have in my arms but there’s not enough space to make him move an inch.

  “I cannot do that.”

  His words send a shiver of ice cold fear running down my spine. He’s in no mood to be reasoned with. My struggle increases ten fold, and this seems to only anger him more. But I won’t just stand here and let him push me around.

  I lift my leg what little I can and try to aim it high, right for the sore bits. Before the impact, he grabs a hold of my thigh with a clawed hand and locks it in place, leaving me balancing on one foot. The other hand — the human one — secures both my wrists easily, and after a pointless resistance from me, he pins them both above my head.

  I’m panting, gasping for air that won’t come fast enough into my lungs. I’m trying to calm myself down, but he is worked up to one-hundred.

  I can’t move my arms at all because of his insane strength, and if I even tried to move my thigh an inch I have no doubt those sharp claws would puncture my flesh like needles stabbing butter.

  Tears prick it my eyes when it dawns on me just how pointless this is. Everything is pointless. I’ll never be strong enough to fight him. I’ll never be fast enough to outrun him.

  There is only him now. His wants and his desires.

  My heart rate slows as I come to terms with this, and the more I think about it, the more it seems like maybe this is for the best.

  If I have nothing to hope for, I have nothing to be disappointed about. You can’t fear death when there is nothing to live for.

  Colm is still breathing heavily above my head, but now I’ve stopped struggling he no longer moves.

  “You should not have run from me,” he says, after a pause that seems to stretch on forever. “It was dangerous and reckless, and I will not have you behaving that way.”

  “Dangerous?” I say with a snort. “Seems to me like the only dangerous thing here is you.”

  He drops my thigh and his free hand comes around my neck. The claw of his thumb rests under my chin, and though he uses no force at all, the choice is either look up at him or have it pierce me. I can’t see him at all, but I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. “You are not wrong about that. I am dangerous, aye. Deadly. I could snap your neck with my fingers like it is a dried out twig. But I do not fucking want to. And I need you to help me ensure I do not do that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I cannot control myself, mo chridhe. Not when I am in such a state. I cannot think clearly. My mind does not work. All I see is rage and anger. I told you to stay because I wanted to keep you safe. You do not know what lurks in these caves. And you would not listen.”

  “Well if you’d explained that to me then maybe I would have.”

  “I am sorry,” he says, his fingers dropping from my neck and brushing across my shoulder. “I am sorry for scaring you, for the way I am. I am sorry for telling you the truth about why you are here. And I am sorry for forcing you into this.”

  I swallow at his words. Out of everything that’s come out of his mouth, this seems like the rawest. Perhaps even the most genuine.

  And I really want to believe him, because that would mean, above anything else, that my life isn’t hopeless.

  Chapter 15

  Colm

  “I do not want to hurt you.” I repeat the words and I am unsure if they are for her benefit, or my own. Now the rage is leaving my body, I do not think I have ever hated myself more than I do right now.

  I have killed thousands of creatures and beings in my long life. I have never thought twice about it. But the thought of laying even a finger on this scared and defenceless little thing beneath me… it disgusts me.

  And the worst part is I can not even think about it for too long, because my thoughts will only lead to one place. The Plaigh. The reason I am the way I am. The reason Sophia is here, instead of living her life on Earth. Lingering on those thoughts for too long would just make the rage return.

  “Then don’t,” she whispers with a sniff. “Stay as you are. Stay human.”

  I shake my head with a sigh and move back just an inch. Enough to give her some space to breathe, but not enough that I miss her soft body pressed up against my own hard one.

  I am toying with how best to explain it to her, or if I should even explain at all. But even now her fear is not as potent, her breath is not quite so pained. Maybe… maybe she will understand. “I try to. When I am not already in that… state, I do not anger so easily. I am well practiced in controlling my rage. What I am not well versed in is controlling… other emotions.”

  “What do you mean, other emotions?”

  “I mean the emotions a husband has for his wife under any normal circumstances. The Plaigh told us the same hormones which trigger the change for war, also trigger the change for…” I let my words trail off because I feel her body tensing up again.

  My fingers are tracing her neck now and I feel her muscles contract as she swallows before she speaks. I had not considered how sharp they must feel against her soft skin. “You mean when we do it, you’ll be like that?”

  “Aye.”

  I’m waiting for her to lose it again. Waiting for the panic to set in… for her to fight, or flee. But it does not come. There is just a small sigh escaping her lips, reminding me they are there. Reminding me how they tasted earlier this morning, when I was full of more hope than I am right now.

  “Do you know how it felt for me? To kiss your lips? To feel that which I have not for so long?”

  I tilt her head up again, trying to sense how she is feeling. Her pulse under my fingers is quick and heavy. But is it fear, or something else? Does she feel even a fraction of what I feel when I look at those malachite eyes?

  “I do not think you can even begin to understand it.”

  I lean down, taking in the scent of her hair. She smells like me, but not like me. She is her too, and she is unique. She is intoxicating.

  “You’ll hurt me,” she says. “Even if you won’t mean to.” Her tone is not accusatory or fearful. It is as though she is quietly resigned to that fact. As if she is broken.

  As if she is not really here anymore.

  And it breaks my fucking heart.

  “Come here.” I reach down and take a hold of her thighs again, this time lifting her up so we are closer in height. I can barely see her face even with my enhanced senses, but I like having her beside me. I like the weight of her on my arms and the feel of her wrapped around my stomach. She is secure up here. “I will do everything I can to make sure that does not happen, you hear me? Everything. Even if that means sending you away. Even if that means the Plaigh slaughter me for subordination.”

  She inhales a sharp breath at my words. “They’d kill you?”

  They would not just kill me. They have a device implanted in the back of my head that would blow me into matter at the click of a button. But I do not tell Sophia that. “Do not concern yourself with such matters.”

  She shakes her head. “I want to help you.”

  Her response is so unexpected I almost chuckle. I would have, if the situation was not so serious.

  “What can I do?”

  What can she do? The truth is I have no idea. No one knows. She is the first, and I hate that. I hate that we do not know how it should be done. But even though there is nothing she can do to help, she wanted to.

  That alone has me feeling emotions I have never felt before. As if my heart is swelling in my chest. I pull her in close to me, because it feels right. She does not turn her he
ad, or duck away.

  I give her every opportunity to turn away as I push her against the wall.

  And yet, she does not.

  Her breath meets with mine and creates a warmth around us, a bubble that is filled with only us. I trail my lips across her cheek and she sighs in my ear. My cock stirs at the sound, and I try to fight it. My cock, my teeth, my hand, my horns. All of them are connected, and all of them have the potential to hurt her.

  Instead I focus on pleasing her. I focus on pleasing her while I keep my mind on other things, mundane things. Things like sharpening my sword on the whetstone, or fucking changing Sgail’s shoes.

  That is what I think about as I catch her lips and she opens so fucking beautifully for me. That is what I think about as she wraps her little arms around my neck and pushes her round chest up closer to my own. She moans as the small rings tug on her nipples, as my tongue enters her mouth and takes long strokes against hers.

  We kiss like that until I start to lose the will to control myself. I let her gently slide to the floor, but when she sighs I continue the kiss, crouching down and lapping at her neck. Moving further to her breasts. The fabric that was already mostly out slides away with the brush of a clawed finger, and soon her round tits are in my hand, being rubbed and kneaded by my rough human fingers.

  I wish I could rip the rest of the dress away and strip her naked right here, but that thing is secured around her waist and I don’t fancy my chances at being able to put it back on her. You need dainty fingers for that.

  Instead, I make do with parting her dress at the thigh and kissing her there. Her heady scent has my teeth screaming to break free, but I fight it with every ounce of strength I have. I want to please her. Not me. This is about her. It has to be about her, else I will lose control again.

  A sigh escapes her lips as I trail kisses up her silky inner thigh, and I feel her trembling beneath my hands. I am on my knees now, not giving a fuck that the grit and sharp stones are likely leaving marks. I pick her up easily and drape her legs over my shoulders, giving me full access to her sweet centre.

  She sighs as I work my way up her thigh. My hands knead her cheeks and drag her closer towards me, and it takes every ounce of control I have to keep my right hand from hurting her.

  A small gasp escapes her when my tongue connects with her cunt for the first time, and I wonder if she has ever experienced this before. If I am her first. The thought of another man being anywhere near her makes my teeth throb, and so I go back to thinking my safe thoughts.

  Only safe thoughts with her.

  My tongue works her up to a frenzy, lapping and circling around her little nub until she is whimpering. Her fingers run over my close-cropped hair, and before long she is not only receiving, she is taking what she wants — her hips grinding against me while my hands knead her round little arse.

  In all my years, I have never felt so fucking needed as I do right now. I could get used to this feeling, of that I am quite sure. Having her so wet and needy and desperate, her only means of release within my domain. My touch. My tongue. Mine.

  My thoughts are spiralling and I feel the familiar pressure at the top of my head, my jaw, my cock. I stick my tongue inside her and squeeze her hard, and moments later her thighs tighten around my head just as my horns break out.

  Terrified, I try to drop her. I try to back away, but her thighs are like a vice around my head and she is moaning her release. So I let her, my heart racing in panic. What if I have hurt her? My horns, my teeth, they could pierce her soft flesh so easily.

  Only when her moans fade to a whimper does she finally let up the pressure, and I am able to slide her off my shoulders and get her into my arms. I stand up, and she curls in close to me, breathless and dreamy.

  “You are alright? I did not hurt you?” I try and fail to conceal the concern in my voice.

  “I felt them,” she says. “I felt them come out.”

  My heart sinks and my stomach hollows. Why did she not let me stop it?

  “But… it wasn’t bad. Kinda nipped a bit. Kinda sent me over the edge.”

  If her eyes worked in this place as well as mine do, perhaps she would be able to see the confusion written across my face.

  Instead of replying and questioning her further, I try to read her emotion. She is not scared. She is not disgusted.

  She is… calm.

  Chapter 16

  Sophia

  The moment we get out of the cave and into the daylight is the same moment the post-orgasm bliss diminishes, and in its place… this weird uneasy embarrassment.

  It was easier when it was dark and I couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see me.

  He helps me back up onto Sgail before getting on himself, and I lean back into his chest just as I had been when he carried me out of the cave. I guess it would be harder for him to notice the heat in my cheeks this way.

  We don’t say much on the journey home, other than Colm pointing out some more points of interest. He pointed to where the sea is, but explained it is nothing like the sea on Earth. Here, apparently it is a perilous place, full of crashing waves, rip currents, lightning storms, and huge whirlpools.

  “So it’s not a place you’d take the kids for a picnic, then?”

  He chuckles. “A place best avoided. But you reminded me, we did not eat.”

  Huh. I guess we didn’t. I hadn’t given it much thought — what with everything else going on. I fight the blush threatening to take hold again at the thought of it. I won’t lie to myself and pretend I didn’t want it or enjoy it. It would be easier to think that way… I mean it was reckless and completely inappropriate. But there is something about Colm that makes me want to forget that.

  Forget about the danger.

  Forget about the consequences.

  Forget about the fact I’m a long way from home with barely any hope of seeing it again.

  And I have no logical explanation for that, other than the way he makes me feel when he looks at me. Before today I had thought him cold, hard, and unforgiving. And yet now I’ve seen this whole other side of him, things are beginning to make sense.

  He is the way he is because that’s how he was made, and he’s doing the things he’s doing because he has to. Because his life depends on it.

  I remember the time when I was younger, when those men came into my room and I felt my life in danger. I remember the fear, the stomach so heavy it makes you feel sick, and I wonder if he has been living with that since my arrival.

  Since I rejected him.

  But he doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would want to discuss such matters, so for now I hold my tongue and nibble on the bread — I mean aran — that he’s just pulled out of a sack attached to Sgail.

  I suppose there is plenty of time for more of my questions.

  * * *

  We arrive back at the castle, and I guess from the position of the sun in the sky, and the fact that the temperature isn’t nearly as sweltering, that it’s closer to dusk than it is noon. Colm stops the horse-beast in the large cobbled courtyard, and several Balachs emerge from what I assume are the stables and take the reins while we climb off.

  No sooner than my feet hit the ground do I hear the sound of the double doors crashing open, Brody and several other men — all Bhiast height and all wearing plaid — following on behind him. Their faces look concerned, and Colm’s hand instantly finds my own and grips onto it tightly. I look up at him, trying to see any sign that he knows what this is about.

  The men mutter quickly in their foreign tongue, so fast I can’t even recognise audible breaks between the words. After a few exchanges back and forth, I sense Colm’s eyes on me and look up at him, my face asking a silent question.

  His eyes are worried when he shakes his head briefly. “Do not say a word, understand?”

  What is this?

  I’m afraid I don’t understand.

  My mouth is open, about to ask what is going on, but then his face changes and his hars
h look stops the words before they can cross my lips.

  I take heed of the warning in his eyes and shut my mouth, giving him a faint nod. We follow the men back inside to the great hall, and all the while I’m trying desperately to subdue the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  As soon as my eyes adjust to the darkness, his worried look makes sense.

  They’re everywhere.

  Sitting around the tables, their shoulders barely visible, they look like children sitting on adult furniture. Some stand in small circular groups dotted around the room, naked with grey slimy looking skin on show. The colour and texture reminds me of a salmon, mottled and a hundred different shades, ranging from the darkest black to the brightest silver. They’re small in height, the tallest one barely four foot, and have extremely skeletal limbs, with heads so large it looks like their necks should snap at any moment.

  Instantly, I do not like them.

  And it’s not just for their appearance, either.

  Colm’s words ring in my ears. What they did to him. What they want to do to me. What they threatened him with, should we not agree.

  And it occurs to me that we haven’t done what they wanted.

  One of them is sitting in Colm’s usual chair, high up on the dais. That chair is bigger than all the others, and the thing looks positively ridiculous. But he is the one everyone turns to look at.

  He must be the leader.

  When he stands up, I get the full view of his body and flinch at how disgusting it looks. His stomach is so at odds with the spindly arms and legs, bulbous and hanging low, covering whatever manhood he may or may not have.

  His face is humanoid, two completely black eyes, two nostrils (though not really a nose) and a small circular hole, marred by a dark ring which I assume is the mouth.

  He begins walking towards us and I glance up nervously at Colm, whose grip on my hand is so tight I’m sure I’ll have pins and needles for the rest of the day.