by Marie Dry
"How on earth did he get hit with a harpoon," she asked, dazed.
She thought no one heard her over the frantic activity around Azagor. But Zacar looked at her for a moment, as if checking on her.
"Stay back, Natlia."
Ignoring his command, she hurried after them and mentally went through her first aid supplies. Would human medicine work on them? She sagged against the wall. Fear had affected her wits. They had their own doctor, with technology and skills more advanced than her rudimentary first aid kit.
Zurian laid him down on a slab of metal they'd installed that morning in another area they'd sectioned off with silver walls. Viglar immediately went to work on him. Zurian talked to Zacar in urgent growling sounds.
"What happened," she asked again, assuming Zurian had just been filling Zacar in on the details.
"Azagor tried to earn mekrin bar gera," Zacar answered.
"My stupid translator didn't understand that. What does it mean?" she snarled at him. She couldn't believe she was thinking this, but she needed another implant. One that properly understood that growly language.
"It means Azagor tried to earn his...his―" He stopped for a moment before continuing. "He tried to earn full warrior-hood."
"You mean like a rite of passage?"
"Yes," Zacar answered, without looking at her.
He marched up and down the length of the cave, fists clenched. Every now and then, he would stop and observe the doctor who seemed to be wasting a lot of time running his scanner over every inch of Azagor.
"Did he try to attack a raider camp on his own?" She couldn't fathom anyone wanting to walk alone into a raider camp. Even if she had their weapons and thick skin, she wouldn't want to do it.
"He was on his way to a camp near Denver but was injured by woumbers when he went over the pass," he said and made another sharp turn to pace in the opposite direction.
"The raiders were there? How many of them?"
He didn't look at her. His eyes were on his wounded warrior but he answered her questions with surprising patience. "Many."
The doctor flicked a look at her then at Zacar. "It must come out."
It took her a moment to realize what he meant. Zacar walked forward and the determination in his step made her stomach turn. Zurian went to stand at Azagor's feet.
Smoothing her hands over her pants, she walked forward. Surely, she could help in some way. The closer she came to the young warrior, the more agitated he became. Even Zurian started to frantically motion her away. Did they consider it bad luck to have a woman close to a wounded warrior or something?
"Please wait in the main cave, Natlia," Zacar said.
Did he expect her to go about her day, as if nothing had happened? And wasn't Azagor lying there mortally wounded?
His next words confirmed it.
"It is time for your dinner. If you start the preparations for food, I will come shortly," Zacar said, as if his words made perfect sense in their situation.
If Azagor hadn't been seriously wounded, she would've slapped Zacar silly for talking to her as if she was barely older than a toddler.
"Are you out of your mind?" she exclaimed. Was that what these crazy aliens thought of her? "You guys are crazy if you think I'm going to calmly sit and eat, or watch the TC, while he lies here in pain."
Pretending bravado she didn't feel, she stomped over to them. Carefully, she put her arm under the soldier's head and held him to her. Azagor stared at her with black, pain-filled eyes, unblinking. She could feel his body vibrate with pain but he didn't make a sound. He glanced at Zacar once then stoically focused on the wall. She had the strong sense that he was embarrassed to be held.
The doctor and Zacar exchanged a strange look. When Viglar gripped the harpoon, she understood. Zacar and Zurian held him down. Before Azagor knew what he planned, the doctor pulled out the weapon from his shoulder and reddish-green blood spilled out in rivers. Pain bowed Azagor's body in a rigid arc and she almost lost her grip on him. He gave a cry that reverberated around the cave with its agony. She winced in sympathy.
Quickly tossing the harpoon aside, the doctor grabbed his instruments and started to work with frantic haste. After that one agonized cry, Azagor made no sound. The only noise in the enclosure was her heavy breathing and an occasional grunt from the doctor.
Natalie glanced over at Zacar to find him examining the bloody harpoon in his hands. She'd seen an illustration of something similar once. He turned it over and touched the sharp point with a curious forefinger. Zacar looked from her to Azagor. His gaze lingered on her hands, stroking the young alien. He could glare all he wanted. If he didn't like her helping the young warrior, that was just tough.
Ignoring him, she softly stroked the sweating bald head she held in her arms. The pain must be excruciating. Not even during workouts had she seen them sweat the way Azagor was sweating now. She held his head against her chest, with her hand on his shoulder, and already he was becoming heavy. She frowned at Zacar and snapped at him when her muscles started to quiver. "Don't just stand there. Come and help me. He weighs a ton."
To her surprise, he came over and put his hands beneath hers, taking the weight of the young soldier from her.
With Zacar's help, she held him and talked to him while she stroked his brow. When he clenched his jaw in pain, then seemed ashamed at showing weakness, she couldn't help the tears running down her cheeks.
"Shhh. You'll be all right, you'll see. Before you know it, you'll be in your bed and feeling much better." Tenderly, she stroked her hand over his head and smiled at him through her tears. She always thought they were invincible. Bulletproof. This vulnerability scared her. Instead of being indestructible, they had some weaknesses.
She searched her mind for something to distract him from the pain. "Tell me, which movie is your favorite?"
Azagor frequently found ways to work in the vicinity of the TC, his fascination with old sci-fi movies growing since the first one they watched with her. She always thought he would've approached her with a million questions, if Zacar would allow it.
"Star Wars." His voice was hoarse, almost vibrating with pain but she thought it helped get his mind off it.
She had to listen closely to understand the words he painfully gritted out. "Star Wars. The original one?"
He nodded stoically. He seemed so brave. She crooned to him and stroked his bald head again. A movement from Zacar had her looking up straight into his red eyes. They flared with emotion and she was vaguely aware of Azagor and even the doctor staring at her. Didn't they approve of her showing compassion to their fellow warrior? Well, tough.
When Viglar started up a small flame and closed the wound, she recoiled and would've jerked Azagor if Zacar hadn't held her steady. Azagor didn't seem to feel pain from it, but she was close to fainting. Just looking at what the doctor was doing, she felt enough pain for the both of them. Bile burned her throat with bitter acid so she took deep breaths, forcing it down. She had to be strong for Azagor.
When the others laid him down in his bed, she pulled the covers over him, impulsively bent over, and kissed his head.
The air around her thickened until all she breathed was a loaded silence and rage. She could feel their gazes burning into her head. This wasn't a human boy who needed comforting. For all she knew, she'd broken some huge taboo.
With a harsh growl, Zacar picked her up and carried her to the tent.
"Put me down. I want to be there in case he needs help during the night." Besides, she didn't want to be alone with him while he was angry with her.
"The doctor will help him." Putting her down, he lifted her chin with his hand. "You are my breeder." He bent down to speak right in her face. "Not his."
She cringed back, but couldn't allow him to intimidate her like this. Never show fear to a predator. "I might be your woman but I'm also concerned about Azagor. And what's so wrong with that?"
"You are my breeder."
"Does that mean I can't show
compassion to a wounded warrior?
Maybe now wasn't a good time to get fired up over him calling her his breeder, but she'd get him to stop using that word if it was the last thing she did. "And are you physically incapable of calling me anything else? Was this annoying habit somehow bred into you, along with warrior genes or something?" she asked in a deliberately syrupy sarcastic voice.
He drew himself upright. "I behave with honor. Have I not fed you? Protected you?"
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
What was her point? They'd started this argument because of his attitude over her helping Azagor. "Why are you so upset over me helping Azagor."
"It is not seemly for my breeder to kiss another warrior."
"Oh." He was jealous?
She was freaked out over Azagor's wound? Mad about his attitude toward her trying to help and him treating her like an outsider? And she needed him to hold her and soothe her. But his obvious jealousy warmed her a bit. "That was a different kind of kiss. Not the kind of kiss I want to give you."
"Show me this different kiss." The interest in his voice convinced her he already had a very good idea what a kiss was.
Slowly, she stepped closer. Going up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. Without hesitation, he drew her into his arms and kissed her with those potent lips of his. And she was lost. She opened her lips for him when he demanded entrance and his slightly rough tongue surged inside, duelling with her softer one. He bent down, picked her up again, and moved to the bed.
"We should do this the way my people do it? It's only fair to me, don't you think?"
Natalie expected him to start roaring again after the resistance he'd shown to any deviation of his normal way of doing things. His lovemaking had been hot, exciting, but strangely formal. His demeanour, almost conservative.
Now he looked at her with something she could've sworn was interest. If she had to describe his reaction, she'd have said it was excited, yet he was determined not to show it.
"Um, why don't you lie down? Earth women are always on top." Luckily, of all the aliens, he liked watching old movies the least. She'd swear that was how her parents raised her if he ever learned more about Earth customs.
He shucked his clothes in record time then walked to the bed and lay down with studied, careful movements.
Natalie drew in a loud breath and went forward. She must be crazy, but all that wonderful skin was hers to touch at last. When she'd fantasized about this, she'd sexily swung her leg over him and straddled him. After she'd done a slow striptease. In reality, he was so big she had to clamber over him and awkwardly straddle him. Still fully clothed. Flushed and unsure how to proceed, she timidly touched his chest. This is the first time she'd ever been this bold with a man. She thought of the way bullets bounced of his skin. "If you changed to your warrior skin, would you be able to feel my touch?"
"Yes."
"Would you change for me? Allow me to touch you while you're in your warrior form?" It had been a very secret, forbidden fantasy of hers, touching him while he looked like the dangerous alien she'd seen that day he rescued her from the raiders.
He looked at her for a long time. The atmosphere became charged, aggressive and she braced herself for a violent rejection. She was the one straddling him but he was not the helpless one in that moment. Then, at last, he changed and suddenly a slightly bigger green-and-copper alien lay beneath her. Adrenaline rushed through her blood and she had to bite her lip hard to fight the urge to flee. She held still and forced some oxygen into her lungs.
She touched his chest again. "Can you feel this?"
"Yes."
"Are you more or less sensitive like this?"
Again, a long silence. "More sensitive," he finally gritted.
"But bullets bounced of your skin." Natalie sat back stunned as realization dawned. "This is your natural form, isn't it? This is natural but different from warrior mode. The one you show normally isn't really you."
He didn't answer her, but he didn't contradict her either, and she knew she'd guessed right.
"Why?"
When he pushed her off him and stood up with his back to her, she thought he would ignore her question again. She ended up sprawled on the bed strongly considering the merits of fleeing the tent. Then he turned into a copper stunning-looking bald man again and faced her.
"This is what all breeders find acceptable." Bitterness coated his words. "You like this form. The real Zacar looks like a monster to you. I knew you would never allow me to touch you in my natural form."
Natalie got up and walked over to him. She placed her palms on his chest and looked up at him. "Change back to your natural form. Please."
For the longest time, she thought he wouldn't do it, then he shimmered and a greenish-copper alien, with rougher features than she was used to, stood naked in front of her.
Never taking her eyes off him, she raised a hand and traced the ridge on his forehead. Then both sides of his nose, before trailing her finger down the bridge of his nose. She pressed her finger over his nostril, the way he'd done to her the first time they made love.
"I find this form very acceptable."
Someone, it had to be a woman, must have rejected him in his true form. Jealousy stirred at the thought of some exotically beautiful alien woman, able to stir up such strong emotions in him.
The tent turned upside down. One moment, she was standing on her tiptoes, touching him, and the next, she found herself on her back with him looming over her.
"I fuck you now."
She drew back, her head digging into the cushion. "Where did you learn that word?"
"What word?"
"F--the word you just said," she said. She wouldn't admit out loud that she found his rough voice using that crude word exciting.
"That is what your few databases, that are still operational, call it," he said.
Bending his head, he kissed her with an expertise that made her doubt if he was really a stranger to kissing. His lips that appeared so hard were soft and warm against hers. At the back of her mind, she wondered what he meant when he said still operational. Then he moved her shirt out of the way and leaned down to kiss the valley between her breasts.
She forgot all about databases and injured aliens.
Natalie stroked his bald head, the texture of his skin pleasing her palms. He was slightly warmer than a human and, since her escape attempt, she couldn't get enough heat. Everywhere he touched her skin, pleasure and heat followed.
He ripped open her shirt and roughly pushed it off her and, instead of complaining about his rough treatment of her clothes, she urged him on while she kissed and licked his deliciously naked chest. He pulled of her pants and while his hands roamed, his lips lowered to her breasts.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, using his slightly rough tongue with such skill she would've flipped him over and had her way with him if she could have.
This time there was no deliberate, ritualistic lovemaking. He worked his way down her stomach with hot wet kisses that had her writhing in pleasure. She thought he was slightly out of control. When she felt her teeth against her stomach, she cringed from him.
"What are you doing?"
He lifted his head to stare at her with a disconcerting unblinking gaze. "Pleasuring my breeder."
"Could you do it without using your teeth?"
This wasn't happening. She wasn't having this discussion in the middle of the hottest encounter she ever had, bar the first time she made love with him. She groped for the blanket, suddenly feeling the need to hide form that unblinking gaze. A moment before it had been exciting and almost forbidden to be naked with him. Now all she felt was vulnerable.
He went rock hard against her, and she swore she could see flames dancing in his eyes.
"I will not bite you."
She inched the blanket higher to cover her breasts. "Promise?"
"I have omgraz'ra. I
have said."
"Uh--okay."
Suddenly the mood was broken. As much as she wanted him before, now she just wanted to cover herself and be on her own. She inched back from him or tried to. His hands on her hips tightened. She was no longer aroused. She just wanted to crawl under the blankets and forget how large and vicious his teeth could become.
As if he knew how she felt, he moved back a little and picked up her hand. She looked at their hands, his copper green and hers pale and washed-out looking against his. It illustrated the differences between them with cruel clarity. Could such different people live together, make a life together, like he seemed to want.
He bent his head and kissed her palm then licked the skin there. His tongue swirled and licked the skin over her pulse and her heartbeat went crazy. Pleasure tingled over her hand and wrist. When he moved that dangerous tongue to her arm, ecstasy followed in his trail. He explored farther until her whole arm burned with desire. How could kisses and licking a mere arm cause such bliss. He took the inner flesh of her upper arm between his lips and suckled. She gasped and her hips lifted. She grabbed hold of the bedding beneath her.
He licked and kissed her shoulder and moved the blanket just enough to uncover her breasts. She felt her face heat and focused on his chest. She leaned down and kissed his muscled skin, tracing the veins leading down his body. Never would she tire of kissing his beautiful skin. He worked his way down her sides, ignoring her breasts.
"Please," she moaned.
She wanted to touch him, kiss, and lick every inch of him, but he pushed her back and kissed his way down her body.
He ignored her plea, the way she lifted her breasts toward his mouth, licking and sucking his way down her side to her hips and legs. By the time he reached her knees, she didn't care when she felt his teeth. She needed him to stop teasing her. Do something, anything, before she expired from wanting him.
"Please Zacar, I need you. Don't tease me anymore."
He looked up at her, his flaming eyes causing spasms deep in her pelvis. She looked down his body and saw that his penis pulsed, erect and tantalizingly, close to where she wanted it.
