by Amanda Milo
“I suppose,” she said slowly, “that we could agree to forego certain procedures. I assure you that every effort will be made to keep our study subjects safe and healthy.”
I managed to clamp my teeth over the palm-side of the base of his forefinger - the only loose flesh I could mouth on his hand, trust me. With his other hand he was squeezing the lights out of my hip but he eased his grip off of my mouth enough that I stopped biting him to ask, “And their mates, right?”
She deigned to nod once. “It would be of great interest to test separation spans and a bonded’s deprivation when his mate is taken away, however-“
Growls and gurgles and hisses erupt around us.
“However, it is understood that this is too taxing on the bonded pairs, and frankly, too dangerous. We will do everything we can to keep both the subject, and her bonded male or males, injury free.”
“For how long?”
The Gryfala tapped a claw to the tip of her cute little nose. “Mmm. What is the length of time a human is gravid?”
“Gestation? Nine months.”
“Gestation? Months?” She dropped her hand and looked at me like every word I said gave her new ideas. New ideas that hopefully did not involve needles, or sutures, or scalpels.
I shrugged like she didn’t scare me. Liar, liar, pants on- “Yeah, we’re gonna have to figure out some conversions.”
“Intriguing.”
“What will you try to do with the babies?”
This actually comes from Bitchy. Who is letting her hand be held by Dohrein. Yay for Dohrein!
When he shoots me a smirk, and Bitchy gives me an amicable middle finger, I realize I cheered out loud.
Oh, how the Gryfala looks back and forth at us. We should be charging them money to watch our “natural interactions”. Like an entry fee to the zoo.
“It would be of great value to learn what we can from your young, but should you have offspring, I can promise you we won’t harm them.”
I looked around our group. And all the women were looking back at me. I brought my shoulders up in the world’s slowest shrug.
In return, I got a few nods.
Most telling? I didn’t get any refusals.
“Okay,” I blurted. “Deal.”
“Angie, needles… “ Arokh said low and worriedly.
I shuddered and all I could do was pat his hand. “Never doubt I love you, big guy.”
That’s when Crispin has a meltdown. “You will not harm her!” he barked. The Gryfala shot him a look of glacial exasperation.
“That would shorten or possibly even defeat the purpose of the studies. Your female’s volunteering in all tests will be considered recompense for the lives you took.” Then her eyes settled on his shoulders, and if an ice queen were capable of showing genuine empathy - or pity - then this was what it would look like. “Accommodations will be made for all of you. And none of the hobs bonding to humans will be roosting in rookeries.”
Crispin sort of… deflates. His girl moves then; she’d been content to let him hold her but now she adjusts so that her feet hit the ground and she puts a hand up to his cheek and whispers to him until he looks at her.
Then she shot the Gryfala a glare so violent that I’d be feeling threatened if I were in the Gryfala’s boots. And if I didn’t have an entire battalion behind me.
But she isn’t, and she does, so she just studies the pair and addresses all of us with her words. “You will calmly proceed my party out of these doors. We will take you to where you will be-“
Kept. Confined. Caged. Studied.
“-Staying.” She finishes.
With no alternative but to follow her command – we go.
37
ANGIE
“You’re the best,” I say, trying to cheer up my very grim, very clingy alien. Well, clingy isn’t quite the word. But I’ve become his security blanket and worry stone in one.
Right now, at his insistence, he’s on his back on the bed, with me draped on top of him. I tried to protest; it’s uncomfortable on his neck, it has to be with his horns in the way – but he just tugged me over his chest and moved so that his arms were around me tight.
And he needed this, that was clear. But so did I.
It’s been what feels like weeks since we were self-consigned into captivity.
Not as bad as it could’ve been. In some ways it was good. And then some days were just odd, like today. They initially separated us; testing how long Arokh’s thread of tolerance (and by tolerance, I mean sanity) stretched before he snapped.
It got shorter every day.
He loathed these tests, even more than I did. For my part, I mostly worried about him, because he was such a wreck by the time he made it to me. Credit to that Gryfala though; she’d kept her word. They hadn’t hurt me.
Today though. What a weird day. I was put into a simulated forest looking pool and told to “act naturally”. On the banks were lots of sticks, and twigs, and soft reedy looking things. Some were still standing, but a lot of them had been cut down and were laid in neat bundles and piles. The water was warm and clean and clear enough to see down to the bottom, but to be honest I was a little afraid to get in. What if they had some nightmarish sea monster that would bubble up and bite me and they wanted to see how a human would react to that?
No thank you.
I walked along the sandy bank, enjoying the big UV lights heating me as I went, and I made my way to the bunches of …stuff. I examined them, picking them up, helping whoever had cut the bundles because one bunch of long grass looked like it had tipped over. I patted it back into a pile, wondering what the purpose was of this particular exercise.
That’s when Arokh burst into the room.
Panting, bleeding from where he’d struggled so hard to break loose – again - he took one look at what I was sitting cross legged in front of, and he got worried. He rushed to me and started to bend down like he was going to scoop me up – but then it was like he thought better of it, and instead, he crouched next to me, managing a little distance between us.
“Where’s my hug?” I said, throwing my arms out and looking goggle eyed at him. I had come to adore my overly tactile alien. What was this nonsense?
His eyes ran over my outstretched arms… then he looked down at the ground and his nostrils flared.
“What?” I said.
Slowly, he leaned forward. More tentative, almost testing, as he bent into my space… yet didn’t reach for me.
“Arokh, what the heck?” I shook my head at him. “What are you doing?”
He looked down at the ground again before speaking. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like my man is being strange, that’s how I feel. What’s going on?”
“You… don’t feel like attacking me?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He tensed.
“Quit being stupid and hug me!” But I made the move, getting up and grabbing one of his horns.
His arms came around me gratefully, and he pulled his head back to gaze at me, eyes roving my features for a moment before he buried his nose in my neck.
And licked.
I squealed.
He made that gruff huffing noise he had and did it again. He was doing this more and more, and I tried to roll with it. Back home, some guys watched football, some guys rebuilt engines, some played video games – my guy liked to lick me.
Everybody has to have a hobby.
Then he eased me away a little and looked down again.
“What is your preoccupation with the mud?” I asked, truly perplexed.
His eyes met mine. “Do you need more mud?”
“Do I…” I’m pretty sure my squinty eyes and dropped jaw were giving that “Baby, You Crazy” face, but in case he wasn’t reading me right, I said, “Okay. Let’s start over. Why would you ask me that?”
He slowly reached for something by my feet. I looked down to see him haltingly tugging a reed between us.
Th
en another.
And another.
They’d done it. They’d pushed him past his limit. He’d lost it and he’d gone crazy. Fine. I sighed.
Then I helped him.
He sat back when we’d made a big… ball of crap. Well – not literally crap – gross. Just forest floor gunk.“How do you feel now?”
“Tired.” I shrugged. “Bored.”
“Bored?” He looked incredulous.
Then worried. Strike that. More worried.
“Yeah, when do you think we can go back to our room?”
“You need rest? And you want to sleep in our room?”
I sucked in my upper lip and bit it as I stared at him. Hard.
Relationships are difficult things.
Especially when one of you is an alien.
“Arokh… I’m trying to be patient here. But I need you to explain what is going on.”
He gave a sharp nod.
Then he hesitantly reached to pick me up. And that’s when he’d carried me to bed, and insisted on holding me “the hob way” and he kept petting low along the sides of my abdomen, which was making me squirm a little on top of him.
Not enough that I wanted to do anything about it, but enough to keep everything warmed up for when I did.
We were being monitored. I hated that part. Most of us did.
Except Bitchy, who I was now back to calling Gracie whenever she was on her best behavior.
So not often.
She called us under-blanket-fuckers, and overshared about her and Dohrein embracing their new porn star life together. Electro boy was long gone; had actually bonded to another human. His affection for her was completely returned; they were sigh-worthy in their level of coupledom. Good for them, I thought.
“Arokh.”
“Mmm?”
Knowing that some team of alien scientists were undoubtedly listening and watching absolutely everything after this latest test, I tried to choose my words with care. “What was the purpose of this one?”
Sometimes Arokh didn’t know, but sometimes he could guess. He seemed resolute this time.
“They are testing your interest in nesting.”
His slid a hand between us and used his thumb to rub slowly along my belly. Oh. Oh.
“That humans livebirth…” He tugged on his ear. “In natural state, do you get the urge to build a nest?”
“No,” I scoffed.
His hand stilled. “Do you den?” He curled upward to snag a blanket and drag it over us.
“No, Arokh, I’m fine,” I protested as I accepted his blanket – not because I needed it, but because I felt one layer less exposed this way, infinitesimally just a bit less under the microscope lens.
I had an epiphany as he arranged another one, rolled up to act as a bolster behind my back. “Have they been stocking us with all of these blankets in case I was going to ‘den’ with them?”
He paused long enough to meet my eyes. Then he nodded, and grabbed another.
I laughed. “Honestly, I'm fine. And we don’t do that,” I said for the benefit of not only my fussing alien, but the incredibly curious and surprisingly accommodating research team that now managed our lives.
Arokh’s ears flicked as someone tapped their knuckles to the door. “I wish to speak to you.”
Dohrein.
Arokh didn’t say anything so I looked back at him only to find him watching me curiously. Probably waiting for me to go postal and “protect my nest”. Aliens. I shrugged. “Yeah. Come in.”
“I have developed a scent mixture for you both.”
Always to the point, this guy. “We’re doing great, thanks for asking. Uh huh, good to see you too.” I’d been working with him, teaching him all about the custom of exchanging pleasantries. And by teaching, I mean that I told him, and I got a dour look for my effort. “And developed, huh? What, do you have your own chemistry lab or something?
“Yes.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Cool! Hey, where’s Gracie?”
“I have been able to allow her more autonomy, thanks to our own formula,” he said as he strode to our little utilitarian bedside table. He respectfully toed the line - the literal, actual line - the one that Arokh had scored into the floor with his knife.
It was as close to me as he'd allow others to get while we were in our 'den' together.
“Though my bonding instinct is not as intense as a Rakhii, it has still remained unmanageable compared to a normal hob’s.” He set down two small jars. “This one,” he pointed to the green one, “is yours,” he said to Arokh. Then his gaze moved to me as he flicked the red bottle a millimeter forward. “And this is for you. Put it on before you separate.” He gave a pointed look to Arokh. “It will suppress your instincts. To a point.”
“What will hers do to her?”
Dohrein’s wing lifted. “It is a concentrate of your bonding secretion. For your peace of mind when she isn’t with you.”
“It’s a spray bottle of secretion? Really?”
Dohrein did that wing-shrug thing again. “It repels males quite effectively; I can assure you.”
“You sayin’ I stink?”
I think his lip quirked. It did. “Ha!” I said pointing, triumphant. He shook his head at me like he thought I was too much. I sat back. “Well, wow, thanks. This actually is really cool.”
I’d made it my hobby in life to lay on the compliments. Because it was a nice thing to do for one.
And I totally loved making this guy blush. It was the little things, really, that got to him. With parents like his, how often did the guy get told something as simple as ‘good job’? It was sad, actually.
Dohrein just nodded before giving a gruff, “I’ll leave you to it.”
But before he went, I had one more thing to needle him about. “D, is that a hickey on your neck?”
Neither Gracie nor Dohrein had been shy about their not-private-private-life – unfortunately – but I still wasn’t prepared for the way he stood even taller, and totally owned it. “That is what she calls the human version of lovebites, yes. She has left them all over my-“
Quickly, I threw up my hands. “That’s enough, I get it.” I nodded… and something flitted in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t get a grip on it. I blinked and shook it off. “Thanks. And hey. Good for you.”
Before he turned to go, Dohrein gave a little smile – but not to me.
To Arokh.
When the door beeped closed behind him, I looked to Arokh, who, eyes slitted, was watching the door like he was lost in serious thought. “This makes for some possibilities. Why don’t you look happy?”
He regarded me solemnly. Almost like he couldn’t help himself, he reached to pet my hair, slowly winding tendrils around his wrist and fingers, playing with it. “I don’t want to be apart from you.”
I grabbed at my chest and smiled at him. “Aww, big guy. Hand me the knife.”
His face! So much alarm… “Why?”
38
AROKH
She smiles wickedly at me.
I can tell that she is feeling playful, and because I trust her, with great reluctance I reach for her knife, and offer it to her handle first.
Her other hand goes up to the back of her head where she pulls a lock of hair up, aiming the blade at the strand held in her view.
“Angie, no!” I roar. Then I grimace. I know that she is not Gryfala, but I am still stabbed with regret whenever I attempt to forbid her anything.
But it’s too late. She has sliced a chunk of her mane off.
I make a dismayed sound that has her flicking her eyes to me. My hand covers hers as we stare down at the chopped piece. Then she gives me a watery smile. “It’s okay. I’ve got a plan.” Then she begins to braid the strand into a bracelet.
“Here,” she says, pressing it to my palm, threading her fingers with mine, so that our hands are clasped, the lock of her hair between us. “For our blanket.”
I stare at her.
&n
bsp; “You know - to sew into the blanket, if we ever have kids. You can be represented with one of your scales, and I’ll have a piece of my hair. If we can even have kids.”
I am so touched. I cup the little rope in my palm, filled with tender feelings for my thoughtful mate.
My resolve is stronger than ever. It doesn’t matter if we never have pups. Our future is so uncertain, but it matters not. She is my everything.
I move in to give her a long, hard kiss.
She is panting and her eyelids are heavy when I finally release her. She wants to mate and I live to please her.
Yet I can’t let one small thing go. I know I should - I need to, yet, I am compelled to ask. “Why haven’t you given me lovebites?”
She pulls back. Blinks at me.
“Can I? Your skin is different than… what I’m used to.”
I bristle. “You have given lovebites before?”
She stutters. “Well- w-when I was a teenager… and sometimes when I had something to drink-“ seeing my expression, she quickly cuts herself off. “Nevermind. The important thing is, back home, they aren’t lovebites,” and she does that strange movement with her fingers, “or, more to the point, they aren’t all made with actual feelings of love – we call them suck-bites, or more commonly, hickeys, and that’s kind of the immature version of the word, because a lot of young, horny humans leave them in conspicuous places during make-outs, sort of like a bragging trophy for later, but mature humans find this gauche so if they do it, it’s hidden, then it’s considered sexy-“
There is so much alarming information packed into her explanation that I don’t know what to explode over first. My body is over hers before I realize it, pinning her underneath of me – I’m not touching her, I am braced on my fists in the bedsheets, but even so, I can see I’ve startled her a little. I try to move off but I can’t.
Instead, my insecurity-driven rage is interrupted by a soft, non-threatening computerized voice. “Please expound on-“
“Later,” Angie snaps at the research team. Then her hands cup my face. “Whoa. Has this been bothering you? Arokh, I didn’t know. How could I… Look at me.”
