Cage knew his mother loved him. She hugged him and fawned over him. His father was a hard man, a good leader. His mother kept her distance from his father more often than not. It was what his father wanted. Cage wanted more. He needed to be hard and cold and fearless, outside his home. Inside, he wanted the caresses, the hugs, a kiss to his forehead once in a while.
Yes, this bad ass could use a hug every now and again.
It would never be now. A stolen female would hate him, she would hate their offspring. Everything had changed. His poor son would only know affection from his father, and Cage wasn’t certain he knew how to give it. He had been eager for his son to be loved by his mother. Cage wanted the best for his offspring, now his poor babe would be deprived. Perhaps the human female would be grateful if he spared her, and she could love the child. If humans could love, some aliens weren’t capable. Cage would have to ask her.
“I will permit the human female to live with me. I agree to protect her, she may prove useful. She will not be my son’s mother, but she will be allowed to be a close second. Inform the warriors of my decisions.”
Zenon nodded. He turned and left.
“Cage?”
Cyra was calling to him. When he went into the room she was seated on a mound of furs, Cage’s bed. Her feet were bare, as were his; Cage had tossed the ugly encumbrances encasing her feet she called boots. Even the name for the item was distasteful. Her pink skin wasn’t really unpleasant; it was different, not breathtaking, not unattractive. Her ankle was swollen and many different colors. In places where her covering was torn there was more bruising. Cage didn’t like those colors, they were angry, mean. For a moment, he felt sympathy and the emotion surprised him. He smelled her fear as she gazed up at him. Again his mind swirled with certain creatures. She was wondering what he would use to frighten her with.
A strange swimming thing formed in his mind. A water creature. Long and grey and sleek with a mouthful of huge teeth. Something told him if he experimented on that form near her, his bed would be soaked in urine in seconds. He had encountered warriors who soiled themselves from fear, but this female took it to a whole new level. Leave it to him to find a female with a nervous bladder. He would have to control her liquid intake when practicing.
Cage sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t a revolting creature. Her looks were growing on him even after this short time. He supposed it was because she was unthreatening, tribe leaders tended to dip toward leniency with weaker species. Keeping her around, he supposed he would get used to her. Her dark hair was in disarray but thick with a few curls. Her eyes were dark brown and wary. She was curvy, but different from their females. She had two round breasts, not one large rectangle rounded mound on her chest for nursing. The articles of clothing covered her femaleness; it was unheard of on his planet. How was she to attract a mate while clothed and colorless? Her mate would never seek out her scent, nor would the warriors who followed him.
Her looks were odd, but they did draw him closer. Her hands were so tiny compared to his. His mother had been little, like Cyra. Her features weren’t as pronounced as his. Cage had seen his reflection numerous times. He was huge, everywhere. His jaw was square, his nose suited his face. He inched closer and wrinkled his near-perfect nose. It was a shame she smelled so bad. Cage wasn’t certain if it was the pee or if all humans stank.
Cage could see the pulse at her neck beating. She was sweating. She swallowed hard as he neared. Dots covered her bare arms; there were larger red blotches in a few places drawing his interest. Cyra appeared capable of some coloring; the manifestation was apparently geared to her emotions, as with their own females. She was frozen to the spot. He could smell her fear. Pee was imminent. He had an idea.
“We have pets on my world,” he said keeping his deep voice calm. “Do Earth creatures have pets?”
“Yes.”
In seconds, he pictured the tiny animal. Cage almost laughed. That’s a pet? The teeny being looked like a snack for a praefuge. Cage changed into a small creature. He was geared to hideous scary beings. Her creatures weren’t necessarily hideous, but he could expand on them. Instead, he changed into something he knew she would find unthreatening. The small creature was like the lion only much, much smaller. Cyra blinked.
“What is this form?” Cage asked.
She blinked and cocked her head. A gruff deep voice from this tiny being must have been odd.
“A kitten. A little grey kitten, like my old cat Smokey.”
The sides of her lips twitched into the barest of smiles. To his surprise, she picked him up and ran her cheek against his fur. Horrified, Cage began making the oddest sound in the back of his throat. It was a cute sound. Cage didn’t do cute, he did cutthroat.
“Oh, you can purr. How adorable.”
Shit, adorable me, not fucking likely.
She squeezed him tighter. Pee was no longer an issue. Mauling him was. She squashed him to her chest where her boobs attacked him with skin as her clothes were ripped low. The odd covering she wore called a t-shirt stunk. Under her arms were sweat stains. His mother had never smelled like this.
Mate a cesspool? No thanks.
Cage changed back and disengaged her hands. She scooted away from him. Her face turned bright red and for just an instant something flickered inside Cage. The emotion was gone before he could analyze it. She ran a hand down her hair.
“I’m thirsty,” she said. Her tone was quiet; it was a plea of sorts.
Oh no, it wants to refuel.
“I will give you liquid, if you can keep your issues under control. And off my bed.”
“It’s not my fault you scared me.”
“You only pee when frightened?”
“Everybody pees sometime.”
“Some more than others.” He gestured to a small space off to the side. “You may relieve yourself in there. Only in there.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
Petulant?
She may be female, but she was still his prisoner and he would demand respect. An image formed in Cage’s mind. In seconds, he turned into a huge beast. His long tail waved back and forth. Sharp teeth protruded. He was bald, his skin leathery. His huge feet were clawed. Smaller arms with claws waved, scratching the air in her direction.
“Dinosaur,” she whispered on the barest of breaths, her eyes were wide with terror.
Cage roared, it was a pleasing sound—to him. Cyra went flying into the room he had indicated. Cage liked this form. In fact, he had seen other larger forms swirl within his mind. Cyra was indeed a secret weapon. He just needed to keep her alive and preferably his home dry. Perhaps his life wasn’t completely as unfair as he had thought this morning.
Chapter 5
Cyra sat on the cave floor in the room she guessed was the washroom. The only light streaming in came from the room she guessed to be Cage’s bedroom. There was a hole in the floor, nothing else; where it led she had no clue. It was built for a man to relieve himself in. She was miserable, wet, she stunk, and she was scared. And she wondered if the dinosaur was still in the bedroom. Never in her wildest thoughts had she wondered a question like that.
There’s a dinosaur in the bedroom and it ain’t cheery or purple. I bet it doesn’t even sing.
Cyra had been curled in a ball for a while. She wasn’t prone to tears, she was dry-eyed but sad. Her life was over. She would never get home, never have a family or find love. If the planet wasn’t in possession of any space flight, there was no hope of escape. Everything around her seemed so primitive. Cage’s home was built in the side of a mountain and cold. Everything was hard, just like him. There wasn’t anything vaguely resembling clothes she could change into. Her boots and socks were gone, her toes were frozen. Her ankle throbbed. She was tired, hungry and thirsty. She had hit rock bottom.
“What are you doing?”
Cyra yelped and jumped. Cage stood staring at her. He was so big his physique blocked the small amount of light until he shifted. Thankfu
lly he was once more a commando. The room had turned bitter and she shivered; it was dark, but there was enough light she could see he was confused.
“I didn’t make it to the hole,” Cyra admitted. She felt herself burn bright red with embarrassment. She had made it, but by the time she figured out where to pee it was too late.
Cage sighed. “The hole is meant for a male to piss in while standing, not a female’s delicate needs for squatting. You might have fallen in. Silly female. You could have asked me.”
“I hate dinosaurs. They’re extinct for a reason.”
Cyra was wishing Cage was extinct. He reached for her but she shied back, concerned what he would turn into. He dragged her to his chest and wrinkled his nose. Shaking his head he took her further back into the small cave and pushed at the wall. The door opened and Cyra blinked. The room beyond was huge and so beautiful it took her breath away. The air was nippy and steam rose close by from a water source. The cave was darkish and she wondered how the plant life flourished.
“This hasn’t been used since my mother left. It’s private. You’re not my female, but I wouldn’t expect you to be treated any differently. I have taken responsibility for you. You smell. You’re soiled. You are to wash and give me these things you call clothes.”
Cyra wrapped her arms across her chest. “I can’t go naked,” she wailed.
“You can’t wear stained smelly clothing. It’s disgusting. Why you wear these things on your body is a mystery.”
To her horror Cage began to take her clothes off. She batted at him but it was useless. His huge hands ripped at the tears, shredding the fabric. She stood nude before him in no time, her tattered clothes torn into pieces she wasn’t certain she could mend. Her bottom lip trembled. She was mistaken—now I’ve hit rock bottom. Cage looked at her worriedly.
“You’re not going to pee again are you?”
“No.” She swiped at her nose and shivered.
“Get in the bath.”
It wasn’t really a bath; the water source was an underwater spring of steamy water. Cyra had her arms wrapped across her breasts; she turned from him and entered the deep water. The water looked green, but she guessed it was the odd lighting glowing from the underwater plant life. She gasped as she waded further. The water was hot. It lapped at her calves, then thighs and she dropped her arms to dangle her fingers across the surface. The bottom was smooth but not slippery.
When waist deep she sunk to her chest and turned. Cage was watching her. She gazed up at him as she paddled around; finally, she ignored him, used to always having eyes on her, though she always told herself drones weren’t perverts. The government was very strict about random taping of nudity; it was forbidden unless there was consent from both of-age parties. Distributors of any illegal unwelcome nudity were dealt with swiftly.
In a far corner of the cave was a place to relieve herself. The toilet was rounded and black. There was a small waterfall for washing her hands not far from the facilities. Though the cavern air was chilly, she was in a tiny piece of warm heaven.
“My mother used to invite me in,” Cage said.
Cyra stopped her motion and pondered his thoughtful expression. “It’s your bath.”
“No, it belongs to a female,” Cage said. “The Mountain of Creation makes our homes; each cave has a revered place for a specially-created female. Tribe leaders are demanding of their mates and so our females are gifted with their own sanctuary. Our females are treasured. They honor us with life. Only a tribe leader isn’t created, he is born.”
“Some mountain makes your warriors and your women? Boring.” Although there was some intrigue. Full grown humans suddenly appearing from a mountain would be a scientist’s dream discovery job on Earth.
“It’s not just any mountain it’s the Mountain.”
“How?” Her interest now piqued. He was adamant.
“Special chambers. Mates and warriors are created for a tribe leader, kept in a cryonic state of stasis, then awakened when needed. You still haven’t invited me in.” He stood waiting patiently.
Cyra thought it an odd time for chivalry. “So, if I don’t invite you into the water you can’t come in?”
“No.”
“I want my clothes so I can wash and mend them.”
Cage put them behind his back. “No way.”
“Then I’m not coming out and you can’t come in.”
“You can’t stay in there forever.”
She knew he had a point. Her gaze drifted to the scenery. The jungle atmosphere was gorgeous, until the foliage ruffled. She wondered if something else was in there with her. Too late a thought came to mind and quick as lightning Cage changed. The alligator was huge, then supersized. Its mouth opened to reveal massive teeth. Cyra went under the water, holding her breath as long as possible. When she resurfaced Cage was gone, so were her clothes.
For a long time Cyra stayed where she was. Her skin puckered, her long locks were damp from the steamy air, but not drenched. When she waded up to the edge of the water, shivering as her warm skin was assaulted with cooler air, she noted a brown lump. She gazed around and tentatively climbed out, the water pooling under her feet, and grabbed the skin from the cold floor. Cyra had never felt anything so soft. She dried her body and rubbed at her long locks until her hair sprung into the annoying curls she detested. She tied the wet towel around her. The skin was smallish and she squeezed into it. Her boobs were squashed and high, she knew the bottom of her ass would be seen. It was all she had.
Cyra crept from the spring washing room to the little hole toilet cave, she peeked out and saw Cage sprawled out on the furs, he looked to be asleep. She stood there for a moment shivering in the wet skin. Cage hadn’t made a bed up for her, nor had he left her a fur. She thought it was his way of getting back at her.
Even though the water was warm in the spring room, the air was as nippy in the cave. There was no fire burning in Cage’s bedroom. When she tried to look past the cave walls, it was too dark. Cyra wasn’t certain what to do. If the cave was open anything could come in. She didn’t want to be too far from Cage, he was an ass but he was a scary ass, she doubted anything would take him on.
Cyra padded over to the side near his bed but out of his reach. She sank to her knees shivering, not wanting her bare ass on the cold floor. Goose bumps dotted her arms. She would have taken a fur but there were only two huge thick black furs. One under Cage, the other over Cage. The wet skin would have to do. She huddled over and wrapped her arms around her knees cuddling her body tight. She began shaking, her teeth chattered. She was clean and miserable as hell but she wouldn’t give in to tears—that was something she needed to take control of.
“The clacking noise you make is irritating.”
Cyra gazed up at Cage who stood naked before her. For a second her gaze settled to where he wore a jock strap—except he wasn’t now. Cage’s cock was huge even at rest.
“I’m cold.”
“Then why aren’t you in bed?”
“With you? No way.”
Cage growled. He yanked Cyra to her feet and snatched the wet skin from her. She squealed as he plopped her onto the bed and climbed in beside her. The massive fur on the bed was overwhelming, and heavy when he threw it over her. Cyra groaned as her elbows batted the weight. She bent at the knee and stuck her hands straight out. Within moments her legs buckled and she was pinned spread eagle.
“I can’t sleep like this,” Cyra complained. “The fur is too heavy. It’s going to smother me.”
Cage wrapped his huge arms around her and pulled her to his chest. His shoulders and hips kept the bulk of the fur off her. Cyra didn’t know how he could stand the weight—and all night. She’d look like a pancake come morning without his aid.
“Stubborn female. It’s nice to know humans don’t stink all the time. Go to sleep, and don’t pee.”
Cyra wasn’t scared. She was annoyed. She had never encountered such arrogance. As she fumed, she warmed. Before long she reali
zed it wasn’t her anger making her blissfully warm and sleepy. Cage was a furnace, in a nice way. The air was cold but the fur bed was too warm. Wiggling Cyra stuck her foot out from under the fur, then up to her knee, where she cooled down immediately, perfect. She heard Cage chuckle.
“My mother slept the same way, it must be a female thing,” he mumbled.
Every reference Cage made was to his mother, and Cyra wasn’t certain if she should be weirded out. Then she realized Cage had no sisters, no aunts, no grandmothers, there had only ever been one woman in his life—ever, until now. There was no one else to compare Cyra to. Cyra seemed to do a lot of things his mother did. That was weird.
Warmth permeated her skin. Cage’s breath was even.
“Cage?”
“Hmm?”
“What if something creeps in and tries to kill me?”
Cage pulled her closer, her ass rested against his cock until she shifted. “If something did,” he began gruffly, “which it won’t, you had best look the other way. Once I’ve gutted it into a million pieces, I’ll want to return to my warm, dry, bed.”
Cyra knew he wasn’t joking. He would kill for her, the idea was baffling. She was his prisoner, not his wife. Cyra had other males to compare him to. There was only one man in her life who would’ve killed for her, and her father was gone. Cyra gazed out into the bleak darkness, her mind took flight with fears and she scooted back into Cage’s cock. She shifted again until he held her still. She didn’t feel right sleeping naked beside a male commando.
“Cage, where are my own clothes?”
“Gone.”
“I can’t ever go anywhere then. I’d be too embarrassed and scared to wander naked around so many males. I really am a prisoner.”
Perhaps it was the sadness in her voice that made Cage get up; Cyra groaned when the weight of the fur pinned her again. Imprisoned by a dead animal, ironic, nicely played dead animal. Cage went to a rock shelf and returned with something he handed her. It was her panties. She could see they were clean. Cyra battled to get a hand loose and wanted to yell triumphantly when she wiggled her fingers in the air.
Cage (Dark World Book 1) Page 5
