by Amanda Milo
“Arokh. His name is Arokh.” I corrected.
Crispin spared me a glance, and gave me an amenable half bow, half nod. “Arokh. You can’t mean to fight us at every turn. This isn’t about you. Like ‘Rein says, make this easier for her later by making this easy now.”
Dohrein shrugged, the folds of his wings rising above his shoulders giving him a puffed, aggressive look. “If you don’t think you can manage to control yourself, this ship is equipped with Rakhii-grade locks on the bedroom door. I’m sure you’re aware that it’s recommended for Rakhii to be barred when their princesses aren’t needing them-“ He gave a pointed look at Arokh, “- but try not to beat against it too hard, it’s not rated for a bonded Rakhii.”
If possible, Arokh’s whole body wound even tighter.
“There are other beds on the ship, right?” I asked.
Crispin said, “Rakhii bunks, darling, but that’s not the issue.”
Darling?
“I’m not your darling.”
His eyes were suddenly a little hotter, and his face transformed from sort of aww-shucks-ma’am to pure wolfish. “Not yet.” He gave me a wicked smile. With fangs.
Yeah. I scooted the fuck back.
Muscles bunching impressively, Arokh reared up over me, caging me in with his arms. His tail lashed, brushing against my leg briefly but not painfully. His focus wasn’t on me so I got a great view of the strong cords of his neck pronounced with tension as he growled, “Get out. Right now. Or we will fight. And I will win.”
“You don’t give orders here.” The tone managed to be as scathing as it was dismissive.
“But she does. And she doesn’t want you.”
Before they could fire back a retort, I backed my alien up with, “I wouldn’t sleep a wink with you guys in the bed.” My eyes were on Crispin again, who I could no longer see as the 'safe' boy-next-door I had pegged him for. He shared a look with Dohrein over our heads, then - still attempting to ignore Arokh as thoroughly as possible, as if his very existence were beneath them – Crispin met my gaze. Softer now. Patient. I narrowed my eyes.
“As you wish.” Then he pushed off of the bed and sank to the floor. I waited a moment, peering from around the muscle – really, really nice meaty muscle – of Arokh’s arm. When Crispin didn’t resurface, I wriggled out and peered over the edge to see that he was stretching out on the floor. On the other side, I noted that Dohrein had done the same.
I threw Arokh a questioning – and by questioning, I mean it was an “Ummm What the FUCK?” – glance.
He was resting on his knees now, his face like stone. Resigned. “They will not forfeit their gentling rights. They’ve chosen to relax their intensity instead.”
I didn't even try to whisper. “By sleeping on the floor?”
“A minor discomfort worth suffering for in order to be with you,” he growled so low that it raised gooseflesh on my arms.
“Well, obviously,” I croaked. I was aiming for a wry, teasing tone. I missed.
I covered it by reaching to toss a pillow to each guy on the floor, before I moved into the comfort of Arokh’s overheated body. All that rage had jacked his temperature up so high it felt like he was singeing me. I didn’t complain when he wrapped an arm around me and tucked me into him and took us down on our sides. He stroked my back, down my arm, my thigh, in a way that made me think he was doing it as much to reassure himself as he was me. I let my eyes shut, and willed myself to be calm.
I wasn’t quite unconscious yet when one of the… hobs, as they referred to themselves, softly asked, “Is she asleep?”
I thought about pretending, but Arokh surely knew I wasn’t. I opened my eyes and stared into his. After a measured look, he answered them. “Speak on.”
“In light of the fact that she was kept in stasis, she will need a full physical done.”
“Yes,” Arokh agreed, the scales around his eyes going tight.
Errrm… I really, really couldn’t afford to imagine what had happened to me when I was forced into a virtual coma and fed by a ghastly tube insert. I tried to recall how I’d felt physically when I’d woken up in the auction ring with the others. Had I been sore? There had been so much to take in, I wasn’t sure if pain would have registered just then. I wondered if aliens had STDs. Oh this would be fodder for so many nightmares to come, I thought on a revulsive shudder.
A crooked forefinger popped up my chin a little. I looked into Arokh’s face when he brought his nose to mine and nuzzled. You know? It wasn’t really that strange anymore. All things considered, anyway. I closed my eyes, and nuzzled him right back. It must have surprised him, because he stalled a beat before kissing me hard. His soothing strokes began to turn into sensual caresses. I welcomed the solacement that came with his touch. I locked my dark thoughts in a sound-proofed corner of my mind, and shifted so that I could bring one of my thighs over Arokh’s.
“Her needing smell is…”
“Absolutely divine.”
Arokh’s body went rigid. I yanked my leg off of him and rolled my lips over my teeth. We may have only been kissing, but it felt like getting caught having full out sex. When others could smell some of your more extreme emotions? No secrets. And. Mortifying. Arokh threaded his fingers carefully through my hair, then applied pressure to the back of my head until my burning face met his chest.
I sighed and rubbed my nose over his smooth scales. There were definitely worse places to be.
19
AROKH
Angie’s small form was nestled against my front, and as always, I felt immediate peace with her in my arms.
However, this didn’t change the fact that I needed to piss.
I shifted carefully, refusing to wake her even though I needed to hit the head. I shouldn’t have drank that third rehydrating packet. Now I wondered if the bastards had plied us with them in the hopes that I’d have to leave her alone more often.
...No. They honestly hadn’t expected to have me around this long. A Gryfala elevating a Rakhii over hobs when it came to her care? It never would have occurred to them.
It wasn’t that I was worried they’d hurt her. To the contrary; these barely pubescent hoblings were ready to lavish affection on her. Gentle her. Even willing to protect her with their lives - from me.
I sent a hard look at Crispin, a look completely missed because he was watching Angie’s back with a soft expression of yearning. I tried not to be ill about that and instead, focused on his face. My spines straightened when I realized that without the filter of a killing rage and the fear that they were taking her from me, I was noticing some features. Was that fur on the edges of his jaws, and his chin? And were those wrinkles by his eyes?
Come to think of it, I’d noticed Dohrein had slight signs of a more mature age than I’d credited him for too.
I decided it didn’t matter. So what if they weren’t quite the sniveling, snot-nosed pups straight out of academy like I’d initially thought? Then yes, they probably had picked up a couple years of advanced fighting and protection training, if they were anything like most hobs. And maybe, being older than I’d thought, they had a few years’ worth of meat and muscle filling them out, all the better to protect a female with. I didn’t care.
No matter how wrong I knew the compulsion was, I was intensely glad Angie was ignorant of the proper ways things should be between her station, and mine. I was enjoying what the two of us had together too much. Enjoying? Reveling. Basking. Soaking in her sweet concern over me and her attraction to my body. I’d never been needed before, not like this. Not until her.
Angie grunted and I started when I realized I’d gripped her to me and had been squeezing. I loosened my hold and let out an agonized groan.
The hobs were right. They were going to have to break me from her.
How damaging would it be to my Angie? I stroked her hair softly. I had never heard of a Gryfala that didn’t have hobs to console her. What if we arrived planetside and she rejected them? She would be devastate
d and adrift without emotional tethers to anyone. These two hobs were as good as any. Without me… without them… She would be all alone.
My hearts clenched.
Why hadn’t I considered this before? I was such a machaai. All of my overreactions to the hobs’ overtures – overtures that were perfectly respectable methods that had been honed over centuries of hob-and-Gryfala courting – had actually done damage. Angie didn’t trust them now, was even slightly afraid of them. I needed to fix this.
I gritted my teeth and found that in my agitation, my fangs had started to descend. I worked at calm until I could trust my voice. “I need to relieve myself.”
That dick Dohrein was beside me almost before the words finished leaving my mouth. Eagerness shown in his eyes and I had to quell my urge to beat his face in. Crispin was scrambling off the floor almost as quickly. Carefully, I edged my arm out from under Angie’s head. Crispin’s hand slipped under, cupping her neck and taking over my job from the opposite side. I levered myself off the bed and with considerable effort, forced my body to walk away as Dohrein moved to Angie’s side and took my place.
Only feet from her, and my body rebelled at the distance between us. I turned, and stalked out.
I was attempting to ignore my violent shaking as I dried off my hands when Angie’s scream echoed through the hull. My stomach, already roiling ill at my Gryfala’s absence, heaved - but, instincts in absolute turmoil - I not only managed to stay upright but my body became an Angie-seeking missile.
The flimsy door to the head snapped right off the hinges when I hit it. I ran full out, my tri toes spreading to keep my body from slipping on the riveted sleek metal flooring.
I snatched Dohrein in a chokehold and was debating on the legalities of snapping a hob’s neck if a Gryfala had technically accepted him. I could claim it was in defense, but it would be difficult to make anyone believe a hob was harming a Gryfala. Tevek – even I knew gut-deep that whatever happened, it was done in ignorance.
“Arokh?”
Angie’s call was all that was needed to make me drop the big bastard and move to gather her into my arms.
The reassurance of her touch simultaneously felt amazing and also lashed me with guilt. I should not have been the one to comfort her. I growled. This wasn’t going to be easy. One scream and all my noble intentions had fled. Not that screaming was a normal reaction of a Gryfala left with her hobs - not in fear, anyway. My voice came out harsher than I intended when I barked, “What the tevek did you do to her?”
Dohrein rubbed his throat and glared at me. I was beginning to believe that he didn’t have much variety in his repertoire of expressions. And glaring appeared to be his default setting, at least when dealing with me.
Crispin said softly, “We were trying to give her a massage. Gryfalas are supposed to love them.”
“Clearly, you failed. Congratulations, you terrified her instead.” I was snarling.
Instantly, Crispin looked crushed. Completely crestfallen…
And I… I took a deep breath and yanked on the tip of my ear.
Venting my frustration on him was as sporting as kicking an egg-toothed nestling. I turned to a much better adversary; Dohrein. And I don’t know why, but I was surprised that he looked much the same as the other hob. Creator, they were so earnest. If I had any baubles to bet with, I’d have wagered they were following some fancy guide that they’d studied and been tested on in their exclusive little school. Yet here they were, with what I just knew was their first real live Gryfala, (not counting their dams) and courting was not going anything like they’d read about. I tried to tell myself they were acting with the best of intentions in their desire to care for my Angie – they simply lacked experience. But tevek! They could cut their fangs on another. Not my Angie.
“I am sorry I frightened you, princess. I didn’t mean to.” Dohrein said solemnly. He looked as if someone had taken all of his hopes and dreams and formed them into a real live female - and then forced her off of a cliff edge right before his eyes.
I wanted to curl my lip, but a part of me empathized. And I hated that even more. Angie was mine.
Crispin murmured, “Try to go back to sleep, veetling.”
Angie, composed now, flicked back her forelock and spoke in a voice that sounded a bit strained. “Imagine that! I’m all recharged. I think I closed my eyes for a good three minutes; where I’m from, that’s almost a cat nap.”
Lifting her face ridges, she looked to me and widened her eyes. “So what’s on the agenda?”
The silence that followed was loaded and uncomfortable to the extreme.
Cautiously, Dohrein asked, “Do you feel well enough to have a medscan?”
She grimaced. “Do I have to have any shots?”
Crispin’s brows knotted in confusion.
Her lips twisted. “Inoculations?”
“Ah. You might if the scans show you haven’t been protected. Do you know what you were given by your captors?”
“You determined I was in deep turpor-stasis, whatever, remember? How would I know?”
“I meant your captivity before you were brought to the auction planet.”
“I wasn’t a captive – I was free.” She seemed to be weighing something. She inhaled, then slowly, ever so carefully, she enunciated, “On Earth.”
“Unless there is a settlement of Gryfalas somewhere in a far off galaxy that we don’t know about, you were stolen and raised by aliens, Angie.” Dohrein paused. “Of course the fact that you were with a great number of other Gryfala matching your description – pinioned, defanged, and unable to speak our language – does raise that very possibility,” he mused.
“Without a doubt, I know for certain that—“ Angie broke off, seeming to swallow her words. “Whatever. Let’s go do this scan thing, and then you can get it over with and stick me because we all know that’s what has to happen here, right?”
Not entirely following all her words, we are still able to process her meaning and I feel fire lick up my throat. The other two males wear keen expressions of hope.
“You would be willing?” Dohrein asked dubiously.
No! I wanted to snarl. But I couldn't. Her choice. It was hers. Still, I was powerless to stop my body from tensing, preparing–
“To…” she trails off, catching something in their expressions. “Hold. Up. Let me guess, that’s an alien idiom! I meant ‘stick me’ with a needle, you know – the inoculations – nothing,” she swallows and her cheeks go red, “nothing sexual.”
Dohrein’s countenance goes dark but Crispin smiles sheepishly at her and says, “Ah. Follow us then.” They lead the way to a tidy little medbay. I glance at the floor and see that each of Angie’s bare footprints leave a mark for a beat before the trace heat dissipates from the surface and they disappear.
Such perfect, cute little feet, I think.
Nothing like mine.
She’s nothing like me at all, really. But I bet the hobs’ would be the perfect masculine counterpart; a match, just like their other features to her tiny feminine ones. I’ve never paid attention.
Angie peers at the instruments and machinery with a heavy dose of suspicion. I place a palm along her spine and press her towards the gray flat screen. “Close your eyes.”
Her eyes narrow at the equipment now mere clicks from her nose. I smile at her wariness. She is pretty fetching when she gets nervous. “It’ll be fine. This won’t hurt.”
“Better not,” she mumbles. But despite her grudging tone, she trusts me enough to close her eyes. The screen flashes a brief hololight beam into her lids and the data panel begins to fill, all the while slowly moving the scanbeam down her body.
With an air of deep, deep regret, Crispin nearly cringes when he whispers, “Actually, it would be best to take a blood sample now.”
Her eyes snap open. “I knew it!”
Dohrein smirks. “Gryfalas are all the same. Terrified of tiny metal instruments.”
“Has anyone told you t
hat you are kind of a jerk?” Angie says.
“A what?”
“Your heel, please?” Crispin asks as he bends low, and before she can even process his question, he has her pinched in his palm and her squeak signals his success.
“Did you just stab my foot?” She is fairly quivering with outrage. I rub one of her wingless shoulders. She glowers at the collection tool he is now moving to a small machine. “Did you know he was going to do that?” She hisses at me.
“No.” I lie solemnly.
When I catch Dohrein’s smug expression I want to punch him, but I settle for baring my fangs.
When his visage only grows more superior, I close my mouth and glare at him.
He mouths ‘Inoculation time’ and points to the main screen.
I gape.
Angie… Angie hasn’t been protected against anything.
Thankfully, as I take a closer look I see the med bay appears fully stocked, with carefully labeled vials and bottles, probably prepped in the hopes they’d rescue an auction Gryfala - and in fact, they did.
Crispin grabs the talon of one of his wings and shifts on his feet. It appears to be an unconscious gesture that I’d be willing to bet is a nervous habit. Dohrein stands stoically though, and stares. At me.
I feel Angie’s gaze on me now too. “What is it?” she asks warily.
Years of sizing up opponents has me able to see that Crispin doesn’t have what it takes to win this fight. Dohrein? Perhaps.
But even I don’t want to take on Angie.
Unfortunately, there is no way she is going to stand in passive acquiescence and allow either of these males close enough to administer what she needs.
I hold out my hand to the hobs. A brief flash of relief passes over Crispin’s face before he whirls to select the necessary vials, then searches until he finds a packet containing the large syringes.
