Cage (Dark World Book 1)

by C. L. Scholey

  She leapt as far as she could and closed her eyes. A flat hard surface hit under her feet. Cyra was jostled and her eyes opened. Beneath her was a cloud. Cage had been right, she believed in Cage and the clouds were solid, as solid as trust. Behind her, she heard screaming as aliens fell to their deaths, unable to stop their forward momentum. The flailing creatures slipped fast from her sight; she never heard them hit bottom.

  Cage came closer and Cyra flew to him. Her face tilted into the breeze, her hair whipping around her head. She had never felt so free, so certain. She was a Cloud Flyer; she was a mate. She belonged to a tribe. When she neared, the image of the warrior became clearer; she realized it wasn’t Cage. It was a tribe leader who was furious with her; she could see the rage and fury on his face. She couldn’t fly to him; she didn’t trust him.

  Her cloud exploded into dust as the pair collided. The tribe leader, Roar, had her pressed to his chest. He was now grinning into her stunned features.

  “Well, little female, it looks like the advantage is now mine.”

  “Your mate needs you; your tribe needs you.”

  “They killed my mate and the child she carried.”

  Cyra gazed up into his eyes. Grief mirrored back. “I’m so sorry.” She should have known the female killed was Roar’s. Roar should have let his mate go, instead he had lost everything. He thought it was Cyra’s fault. Roar’s grip tightened as she slumped. He hauled her tighter to his chest.

  “I want to see the images you gave to Cage.” He tilted her chin harshly, forcing her to gaze into his enraged eyes. “I want to see everything.”

  * * * *

  The cave protection wall was down. None of Roar’s warriors tried to stop Cage as he stormed inside. None would have tried but his gaze fell on a few, some seemed relieved he was there. The natural order of the planet’s ways was in an upheaval. Stealing another’s mate was too shocking to comprehend and it hit home in Cage the damage he had done. The planet’s females had their own protection against him—him. He was their greatest fear. Cyra had so many fears Cage worried for her sanity. He had tried not to frighten her, he was curious. What had he condemned her to with his greed of power?

  The fight on the planet was over—for now. It would come again, Cage was certain. All but one of the alien’s vessels had been crushed. The one remaining was presumed flight worthy but Cyra was needed. Cage wanted his mate back. He understood Roar’s anger, but his female had returned to him, and was lost to him. This was not Cyra’s fault. Nothing of the mess the aliens left was Cyra’s fault.

  Everywhere Cage had looked after the battle was a chaos of bodies; he had lost five warriors and grieved for each one. Many of the tribe leaders had taken far worse damage. With their numbers low they were vulnerable to an attack. The tribes needed to boost their numbers significantly and fast. Cage understood why the Mountain had chosen human females; with their ability to have multiple births, there would be hope for his kind’s survival. One day their own females would return, if the Mountain permitted it.

  Cage strode through Roar’s bed chambers to his small cubby. He pushed on the solid door leading to the female’s room he knew would be there, every tribe leader had a special place for their honored mate. Roar was standing, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest. He gazed at Cage and stepped back.

  Cyra was curled in a corner. Cage went to her and knelt. His hand touched hers. Her saddened gaze at him through her tousled hair before launching herself into his arms hurt his heart.

  Roar waved his arm. “You are free to go.”

  Cage stood. “How many times did you torture her?”

  “I’ve done nothing to her,” Roar replied. “There is nothing.”

  Cage was confused. “Nothing?”

  “You are untouchable except for one thing. Your female. Your biggest fear is the same as hers. Losing one another. I have no want of your tribe. I will not kill a female. There is nothing I can search her mind for when her biggest fear is loss. Everything else is blocked. Human females are a strange commodity. Take her and go. My need for revenge will not include death. There has been enough death. It sickens me.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Cage said. Every tribe knew Roar was suffering. Cage was furious with him but knew the warrior, and he knew Roar wouldn’t kill Cyra.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I was selfish. I’ve lost my mate and my child. I’ve killed my tribe.”

  “No,” Cyra whispered.

  “Finally,” Roar mumbled. “She hasn’t spoken two words to me since entering this chamber.”

  “What do you mean, Cyra?” Cage asked.

  “They went home to the Mountain. When the wars have stopped they will return, but it will be over a hundred years. The Mountain has begun to close itself off to sleep.”

  “My mate was killed,” Roar said.

  “Your mate was created,” Cyra corrected him. “The Mountain will create her again. If you choose, she will come to you when this is over. Your babe will still be born. Until that happens, you need to build your cave stronger. You have a human female waiting for you.”

  “I want my true mate,” Roar said.

  “She will be your true mate. You will not be cheating on either mate. Your Mountain has yet to create your first mate again. I’ve told you, it will only do so if you choose.”

  “You speak in riddles female,” Roar said with annoyance. “Why would I not choose for my mate to be created?”

  “Cyra?” Cage said. “Is it true our females will return in a hundred years? What of you? You are my true mate.”

  “I don’t know. The Mountain is closing, sealing itself off to protect the vulnerable.” She went limp in his arms.

  Cage lifted her higher to hold her close. For a moment, both warriors regarded each other. Cage could see Roar’s emotions cross his face. Both warriors realized their world as they knew it had changed. Cage held in his arms the key to their survival. If the Mountain had sealed itself there would be no more warriors created. The tribe leaders would have to create their own.

  “There is one alien vessel that survived,” Cage said. “I have my mate and will not allow her to leave my side, but she can lock Earth’s coordinates onto the alien vessel. She can point you in the right direction. The choice is yours.”

  “Why would either of you help me?”

  “Our sons will stand together in battle one day. It would be best if their fathers united.”

  “Agreed.”

  Cage spun on his heels and marched from the cave. As he walked toward home, he saw warriors from every neighboring tribe removing bodies. The bodies would be thrown off the cliff for the Mountain. The Mountain would take its warriors home, they were its most vulnerable too; the aliens could rot where they landed, if they landed. It was presumed by Cage’s people anything that fell into the void and was not caught by a cloud spent eternity tumbling through space.

  Cyra stirred in his arms as he settled her onto the furs. She blinked and a small smile curved her lips.

  “I didn’t pee once. Not even a dribble.”

  Cage chuckled. “I’m impressed.”

  “I need to go make sure the space ship we have been working on is fine. The Mountain showed me another vessel while I was with Roar.”

  Cage nodded. “One alien vessel remains intact. Roar needs to find his mate on Earth. I think it can wait until tomorrow. Before I let you leave our home I want the warriors to make certain the bodies have been taken care of.”

  Cyra grimaced. “I saw.”

  A single tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. Cage grabbed her wrists and sat beside her.

  “It’s all right to grieve,” he said. “Warriors don’t cry but we grieve. I will grieve with you.”

  Cage pulled her into his arms and pressed her face into his chest. Soon his shoulder was soaked with her sadness. She made almost no noise but sucked in great amounts of air on pitiful sobs. His hand stroked her hair until she quieted.
Once spent, he lay her down and cuddled her next to him. She reached for him and, to his surprise, she kissed his lips. Cage kissed her tears away.

  The soft white fur of her coverings under his hands teased his flesh as she brushed against him. Cage had to admit he found the coverings intriguing. Guessing what was under was a new concept to him. Their women came to their mates showing everything. There was no discovering. Cage thought the idea was alluring, and there was something to be said for peeling off her garments and exposing her delicacies inch by inch.

  His hand squeezed her tender breast and she arched her back. Cage gazed into her face, her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. She wanted his touch. The females which came from the Mountain were compliant; they accepted everything their males did. They were created for their mates. Cyra was meant for him, not created for him. She had her own thoughts which she shared whether he wanted her to or not. She thought for herself. At first, her independence was annoying, but now Cage realized he would never wonder if she did what he wanted because she was created to. There was a lot to be said about free choice and free will. Wanting him when she didn’t have to made her love more important.

  Cage realized when the aliens attacked there was a chance he could lose her. Cyra was right; the fear of losing someone you love more than yourself can knock a warrior to his knees. The small human female was everything to him and he didn’t realize how it had happened, but it had. The Mountain couldn’t have created or found him a better mate.

  Cage peeled her covering off, baring her completely. He sucked a breast into his mouth, thinking she was perfect. He liked the idea of two single breasts instead of one. He laved his tongue around her perfect nipple, hardening it to a pebble. She shuddered, and he realized she needed a soft touch. Cage was a hard warrior, but when he slipped his hands under her shoulders to pull her breasts closer, her body was tender and red angry welts were noticeable in places.

  Zenon had tried his best to save her. His body was in his home, placed on his furs. Cage would return him to the Mountain himself. In his heart, he knew the Mountain would accept the brave warrior home. Zenon had been more than an advisor, he had been a friend. Cage buried his face against Cyra, her hand caressed his hair.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cyra said. “Zenon was a courageous warrior. He saved me.”

  “Our Mountain must have need of him. I was hopeful he would have been recreated when our son is born. Sadly that won’t happen. Now I’m hopeful the Mountain will open once more for long enough to welcome him home.”

  “Your people believe in reincarnation?”

  “Our Mountain takes a piece of its warriors when they die. There is said to be something of great importance in each creation.”

  “Humans would call it a soul.”

  “When a warrior or female is created there is always some part that remains attached to our Mountain. Like a babe when it’s born, he is attached to his mother. Only, the babe’s cord is cut; the Mountain’s hold can never be severed.”

  “When I die, I won’t go to your Mountain.”

  “I don’t know what will happen. You weren’t created for me, but we belong together. I don’t know why I was never given a created mate. Roar and the other tribe leaders are devastated by their losses, wondering why their mates were created and returned. All I can think of is they are all older than me. Perhaps when I was born, the Mountain got its first glimpse of what was to come. The females must have already been created and shown to their mates so their mates can choose when the time comes what is best for them.

  “I can only guess our Mountain has a plan for our survival, we all need to sacrifice. When the time comes, I won’t go back to the Mountain if you can’t be with me.”

  The idea startled Cage, but he spoke the truth. He waited to feel the wrath of the Mountain to invade his thoughts, but it stayed quiet. Maybe Cage was a sacrifice. Either way, the idea didn’t bother him.

  “Do your females do everything a mate asks?” Cyra said, her hands were roaming his biceps.

  “Yes.”

  “What would you ask me to do if I were your female, created by the Mountain?”

  “I don’t know. I used to think about things as I was growing up. As a child I would order my imaginary mate to make me food or bring me drinks. As I grew older my orders changed. I would order a back rub or something harmless. My thinking changed as I grew older and I watched my parents interact. My mother was created for Father, but she was by no means a slave. His needs were what she catered to and in return he kept her very well protected and loved in his own way.

  “It was when I saw little things, when they thought I wasn’t watching. The way my mother touched him at times was a definite signal for him to her needs. Sometimes he appeared annoyed. I think I’m like my mother in a very emotional way. I think it’s why I needed more than what the Mountain could create. My mother was somehow different from other females and flustered my father. I loved to watch her get what she wanted.

  “There were certain looks as she wandered into her personal area. My father tried to appear all leader-like, but he soon followed. Maybe that was when you came into the Mountain’s thoughts about what I needed. I wanted a mate who thought for herself, who could express her feelings—make me want to follow her into her private area. Not simply follow wherever I led. You’re a bit too expressive at times, but I wouldn’t trade you for a new mate.”

  “You look young but from the way you speak you seem very old. Does your kind mature differently?” Cyra asked.

  “I think because of the way you describe years, that yes, we mature differently as a species. My parents were long gone before I had any thoughts of a sexual nature. When I got my first erection, my thoughts changed about females and their roles. I wanted a mate to rub me, to do—other things.” Cage was mortified as he felt a slow blush creep up his face. He hadn’t thought of those sexual wants in years.

  “I think maybe you better remove your covering before you bust out of it,” Cyra said and grinned at him, though she seemed a bit shy. She was grieving, but she wanted him close. Cage had never been with a female for comfort. Watching her little tentative actions, he realized now was a good time to let her set the pace for making love.

  Cage yanked his cover off, then let it slip to the floor instead of pitching it across the room. His relief at not being restrained was short lived when Cyra shimmied down the furs and took his hard cock into both hands. She needed both of her hands for his size, her palms were silky soft, her fingertips were magic. Cage could feel his heart hammer in his chest when his sexual fantasy played out without him asking. Cyra’s lips tasted the head of his cock. Her small tongue darted out to lick him. Females from the Mountain would have done this if asked, but Cage would never have asked. They weren’t sex slaves. Cyra was doing this of her own free will.

  Her mouth drew him deep and Cage gripped the furs in his fists. As she sucked him, she slipped her coverings off and they fell off the side of their furs. When he was rock hard she released him and to his surprise, she straddled him. Her hands guided his cock to her heat. She knew when she gazed down at him he was surprised. She impaled herself, rocking steadily allowing only an inch at a time to invade her.

  “Do you like that?” she asked.

  Um yeah. “It feels different from before.”

  “Should I stop?”

  Cage gripped her hips knowing if she stopped, he’d die right there under her. He shifted wanting more of him inside her, but she placed her palms flat against his chest giving her leverage. It was killing him as she took her sweet time with him.

  “Cyra,” he finally warned.

  “Just a little longer,” she whispered.

  All of him was inside her and she didn’t move. She lay down over his chest and pulled him to her as tightly as she could. Cage wrapped his arms around her back and carefully rolled them over. He sensed what she needed. His cock throbbing in want, he pulled gently from her and inch by inch slipped back
inside. They remained locked together. Cyra’s face was buried into his throat. All play was abandoned. He could feel the wetness of her tears.

  “Everything will be fine,” Cage whispered. “I’m here. No matter what battle we have yet to go through, I will always be here. You are safe with me. Our sons will be safe with me.”

  “Cage, you need to know something about human females,” Cyra replied.

  Her tone was muted, pressed against him and he didn’t catch her entire sentence. He thought he caught the word ‘female’ but he reassured her with the many tribe leaders on board the Mountain must have mates planned for their sons. Cyra sighed. She was pliant in his arms, her grip less frenzied. Her tears had stopped. Cage knew as a baby he had cried. The last time he cried he was six. His father found him sobbing his heart out and beating a stick against a tree. Roar was a little older and was able to change into Cage’s worst fear. Cage was angry with himself, warriors weren’t supposed to fear anything.

  Cage’s father told him it was all right to be angry, it was fine to be afraid at his age, but he needed to be strong. No more tears. His father had wiped his cheeks and lifted him to his shoulders telling him one day he would best Roar. Cage hadn’t cried since. His father was a wise man, kind, gentle, but a tribe leader. Cage would be a leader in time. Now Cage was a leader. When Cyra cried, he had no intention of telling her to stop. She didn’t howl or wail, just a few moist, grieving signs of distress.

  “I love you, Cage.”

  Cage stopped moving, he came but he didn’t yell; he pulled her closer. Cyra’s even steady breathing told him she slept. It had been a long day. Cage rolled to his side with her in his arms. He spent a long time running his hand over her hair and breathing in her scent.