by Shea Malloy
I reach for my dragon and relish in the freedom of unfolding myself. Sometimes, there are moments in my primary form when I feel boxed in. Restricted. All it takes to assuage that sense of claustrophobia is to spread my wings and take to the skies.
Rosalind cranes her head and regards me with awe, and my dragon and I swell with pride. I lay low to accommodate her and she comes forward without fear or hesitancy.
She runs her hands along the scales on my neck then skims her hands along the edge of my left wing. Her gentle touch strengthens the fire in my chest. She does not know what she’s doing is regarded as incredibly intimate to my kind. I’m on the brink of returning to my primary form and showing her the result of her actions.
“I’ve always wanted to ride a dragon,” she confesses, excitement brimming in her eyes. Satisfaction fills me I’m fulfilling one of her life’s wishes.
She struggles atop my back. “My ass is glad you don’t have these down your back,” she says as she holds onto one of the spikes on my neck. Even though my hide is thick, her softness and the warmth between her legs press against me. I snort fire to clear my head from those thoughts and I’m amused by her tiny squeal.
I spread my wings and take off. Rosalind squeals again then laughs.
“Oh my god, this is—” Her words are cut short when she cries, “Garan! Look out!”
The tree branches come alive. They knit tightly together blocking our exit, while others whip at us. I dodge and weave the attacks, breathing fire on the branches. But though the thinner branches acting as whips blacken and disintegrate into ash, the thicker ones obscuring the sky remain intact.
“They don’t want us to leave,” says Rosalind, a mixture of terror and incredulity in her voice. I growl and fly toward other open sections but the result is the same no matter how fast I fly. The blue branches form whips impeding us and band together blocking our path.
It’s true. This strange forest wants to hold us prisoner.
I drift downward, shifting to my primary form the moment my feet touches the ground. Rosalind shimmies off of my back, marches to the nearest of the trees and gives its trunk a kick as she insults it with her usual colourful language. The tree remains stoic in response. Her amusing behaviour and the tantalizing jiggle of her breasts soothes my irritation.
“We’re never going to find the beach if this keeps up. She glares up at the trees surrounding us.
“Maybe so, but that’s the least of our worries now.” I force my gaze away from her appealing figure and survey our area. Above us, the once pink-blue sky is now rose, the suns’ gleam dying. “It’s getting dark soon and we need to find shelter if we can’t leave. There’s no telling what other menaces lurk in this forest.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Big bad dragon scared of the dark?”
“I fear nothing, human. My concern is for you.” I smirk. “But provoke me enough and I might turn a deaf ear to your screams when the monsters snatch you for their dinner tonight.”
I walk past her, pushing through bushes along an unmarked path. Rosalind follows closely behind me.
The earthen floor is an umber colour, damp, and littered with decaying maroon leaves. Knee-high tufts of blue-green grass shoot up sporadically from its surface. Along the way, I pause to retrieve the creatures I killed earlier to protect Rosalind. She must have dropped them accidentally during our fight against the animate trees.
“I don’t believe you,” she says, taking one of the roasted creatures I hand her. “Everyone fears something. What about death? You don’t fear that?”
I shrug and continue on our journey.
“It is a natural part of the cycle all life must endure. Death is necessary to encourage evolution, prevent stagnation, and avoid the distress of resources due to overpopulation.”
“Those are all obvious, logical explanations, Mr. Know It All.” The rolling of her eyes are clear in her tone. “But what about the irrational fear of death? You know… that creepy feeling of dread when you realize, inescapably and without a doubt, one day you’ll no longer exist. And you don’t know when it’ll happen either. One moment you’re conscious and the next… poof! You’re dead.” She pauses. “Not afraid of that?”
I pretend to give it some thought by casting my gaze skyward.
“No,” I say finally. “Fearing the inevitable is a pointless waste of energy.”
Though she is right. Everyone has a fear of some sort. But I don’t want to give her any ammunition when she has some unexplained animosity toward me.
On either side of us are rows of spindly yellow green shrubs with flat, oval-shaped maroon leaves. They emanate a sweet, fruity odour that stirs my appetite. My stomach grumbles and I swallow. My throat is dry from the excessive dragon fire I used moments ago. I need food and water. A nap too, as is customary after an active shift.
In time, the ground slopes into a steep decline and the sound of moving water drifts on the wind.
“Give me your hand,” I say to Rosalind when she stumbles for the second time as we inch our way down the hill.
“I’m fine. I don’t need help.”
I shuffle the roasted creatures in the crook of my arm and reach for her hand anyway. She sounds a protest, but she does not pull away.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
Our fingers interlace and I marvel at how much smaller her hand is to mine as I guide her down the hill. I remember the projects during our schooling, the machines we were tasked to construct. Rosalind was my sole competitor. This woman with her big mouth and tiny hands, created imaginative, impressive designs that often outshone my own.
Her palm is somewhat rough, but her skin is soft and her heat impresses on my palm. The simple contact arouses me and from the light pink colour on her cheeks, it’s clear our touch affects her too. I am both relieved and regretful when the ground levels and she tugs her hand free from mine.
“Thank the stars,” she says and I agree. Stretched before us is a river, curving its way down until its tail hides behind a bend. The water flows clear and seemingly trustworthy. There are more of the blue trees standing sentinel on either side of the river bank, and though they’re not as thickly clustered here, I’ve no doubt they can rapidly form a canopy over the river, blocking yet another attempt at escape.
But not now. My energy needs restoration first. Rosalind rushes forward and kneels at the riverbank. She eyes the river before reaching a tentative hand into the flowing water.
“My hand hasn’t turned green and nothing has taken a bite out of it either so I guess it’s safe.” She cups her hands together and scoops up water to her lips, drinking greedily.
“Unless the negative effects occur after ingestion. Thank you for being the unwitting taste-tester, Fry. I suppose I’ll wait now to see if you’ll keel over.”
I grin evilly as she coughs and splutters and spits. Then she glares at me and makes a gesture with both of her middle fingers. My knowledge of human history is not extensive, but I’m aware of her gesture’s rude meaning.
“Gladly,” I say, still smiling as I join her at the riverbank and drink the water too. It’s blessedly cool and its crisp, clean flavour is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in a while.
“On the bright side at least our deaths wouldn’t be in vain. We’ll have thwarted Leeka’s stupid plans.” The corner of her mouth quirks up, her eyes bright with amusement and I chuckle. “A worthwhile sacrifice if you ask me.”
7
Garan
We eat then discuss building a shelter. Of course, both of us possessing an inventive mind and a competitive spirit, Rosalind and I argue on what type of shelter we should build.
“A hammock will keep us off the damp floor and protect us from insects,” I say. “It will also ensure we keep warm.”
She glares. “You mean it’ll ensure you get to cop a feel while I’m sleeping, right?”
I smile. “When I do touch you, human, you’ll be awake to enjoy it.”
&n
bsp; “Doesn’t carrying around all that arrogance get tiring, Dross?” She stabs a finger in my direction. “I’m not sleeping in a hammock with you. Besides, do you know how time-consuming making one would be? Not to mention the fact that it wouldn’t have a covering. We should build a tent. It’ll protect us if rain falls.”
I indicate the clear sky. “Rainfall is highly unlikely. However, an uncomfortable rest due to a cold, damp floor is guaranteed.”
“OK, I have an idea. How about we play a game and the winner gets to decide the shelter design?”
When I agree, she strikes out a hand and indicate I take it. Then she pops her thumb up and instructs me to do the same so that only our remaining fingers are locked together.
“It’s called thumb wrestling,” she says, hazel eyes sparkling, confident smile on her lips as she wiggles her thumb. “And I’m good at it, just so you know.”
The rules are brief. I consider it an absurd and ridiculous game until I win on my first try.
I grin. “I guess I’m better.”
She purses her lips. “That was a fluke. Best out of three?”
I say yes, but I should have said no. Despite my larger finger, hers is nimble. She beats me on the other two attempts.
After Rosalind has her fill of gloating, we gather some of the firm, cylindrical yellow green shoots clustered in a section of the riverbank. We knock them against rocks and wash them in the river to rid the tiny, orange insects inside them. By the time we’re finished constructing a rudimentary tent, night has fallen as well as the temperature.
In the daylight, the jungle is quiet. Now it comes alive with chirps and croaks of night creatures. Lying on a bed of soft leaves in our new and hopefully temporary home, the sounds of the night begin to lull me to sleep when Rosalind speaks.
“What if we’re stuck here forever?” The unease in her voice is clear in the absolute gloom surrounding us.
“Then I suppose we’ll have no choice,” I respond, keeping my eyes closed.
Even though she lays beside me on the bed of leaves, there’s a large gap between us. She shifts closer.
“No choice to do what?”
“Create a new world by populating this place with our offspring.”
She lets out an amused snort. “Yeah, we’d make gorgeous babies. But I’m pretty sure I’d chop your dick off first before I let you knock me up, Dross.”
“Such savage promises are considered foreplay to my species, human.”
She laughs and I smile in the dark, pleased that she is genuinely amused. Sleep beckons me forward and my dragon anticipates the rest. Until I’m woken up again.
“The next time I see Leeka I’m going to teach her a lesson for messing with me like this.”
“Fry, go to sleep.”
“I can’t. I’m cold. And it’s all that bitch’s f—hey! What the hell are you doing?”
I tighten my grip around her, pressing her close to my body.
“Warming you up so you can be quiet and let me sleep.”
She squirms and pushes down on my arm but I don’t budge.
“I can feel your dick against my ass!”
“Continue moving around like that, human, and I guarantee you’ll feel a lot more of it.”
She stiffens in my arms and makes another half-hearted attempt at freeing herself before giving in.
“Asshole,” she mutters. But when I attempt to release her, she stills my hand. A short moment later, she is asleep.
But sleep evades me. Instead, I battle arousal. There’s a soft naked woman in my arms, the undersides of her breasts grazing my forearm, her smooth, round ass pressed up against my groin. I lose the fight as the thoughts of what I would love to do to this desirable human woman plagues me. My cock hardens and I shift my hips away from her. Rosalind murmurs, unconsciously seeking my warmth by pushing against me once more.
Mother’s Suns. I should have made a safur when she complained of the cold. Why did I touch her?
I scowl in the darkness, resigned to a night of torture.
8
Rosie
Daylight spills into the tent’s opening, dappling the floor through the gaps of the sticks. Unlike the chilly night before, warmth surrounds me. Sleep filters from my brain as awareness takes its place.
Garan’s erection pokes my butt and his large hand palms my left breast.
My first reaction is indignation, until I hear him snoring. OK. He’s asleep. His inappropriate touch isn’t intentional.
Or is it?
What if he’s faking it so he could—Oh!
I’m startled when his hand slips and his thumb grazes my nipple. I bite my lips and squeeze my thighs to ward off the heat stirring in my core. I frown, not sure who I’m irritated with the most. Garan, for touching me or myself because I’ve yet to push him away.
I should… but I don’t want to. I can’t deny I’m enjoying his powerful arms holding me against his hard body. His presence makes me feel safe. More so with his arms around me. If I were stranded in this strange place on my own, I’m certain I would have gone insane by now.
When Garan’s hand slides over my breast again, my nipples tighten. Surreptitiously, I lean into the touch. Wait a minute. Have the tables turned? Is it me who’s violating him since he’s asleep and not aware that I’m sorta kinda definitely forcing him to touch me?
I should push his hand away.
But he cups my breast and a soft moan escapes me. I hope he didn’t hear it.
He did.
His erection twitches against my ass and he’s stopped snoring.
Garan retracts his hand and rolls me onto my back. Face hot, I meet his gaze in defiance.
“You should learn to keep your hands to yourself, Dross.”
His eyes are burnt-gold and filled with desire.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
A million fluttery things come alive in my stomach.
Yes, kiss me.
“Try it and you’ll regret it.”
Garan dips his head and kisses me anyway. His mouth on mine sends a bolt of arousal straight between my thighs. His tongue slides past my lower lip to touch mine and for a brief moment, we share the hungriest, hottest kiss I’ve ever experienced. He cups my face, holding my head in place and devours me. Between my legs burn with need for his touch. It’s as if the heat of the suns on this alien planet fell from the sky right on top of us.
Still, I make good on my promise he’ll regret his actions by elbowing him in the chest. He pulls back, a dazed look on his face.
I glare at him, struggling to ignore his hard flesh grazing my thigh and regain even breathing.
“Don’t you ever do that again.”
I’m aroused. I’m angry. Angry with him. Angry with myself that I want him and can’t have him because I can’t overcome what he did so many years ago. Why can’t I forget and just move on? Tabitha once said that if reincarnation were possible and I died and came back as someone else, new me would still be holding onto the grudges from old me.
I roll away from Garan and sit up. The tent’s roof is too low for me to stand. A tiny stray leaf sticks to the back of my shoulder so I brush it away.
He sits up and raises his knees to cover his erection. I’m grateful for that. My thoughts are scrambled from his kiss and would be incoherent if I had to prevent myself from gaping at his impressive appendage.
“We’ve always had a rivalry, Fry, but I don’t understand this.” His features are inscrutable. “It’s obvious I’ve wronged you somewhere. How?”
I cross my arms over my breasts to hide my nipples. My body refuses to accept that sexytime with Garan is off the table. Absentmindedly, I brush away another leaf stuck on the back of my upper arm.
“We can start with your unwanted sexual attention and infringing on my personal space.”
“Unwanted?” His lips twist in a dark smile. “That’s not what I gathered from the way you responded to our kiss. So explain your animosity toward me.”
&n
bsp; “You cheated!” I spit. I’m on the verge of reminding him how his underhanded behaviour forever changed the course of my life when he lunges forward and brushes at my shoulder.
“Why did you—” I begin, but I follow the direction of his finger as he points at a spot on the floor.
Scuttling in circles are a few of the orange insects Garan and I tried to evict from the sticks constructing our tent. A shiver of horror and repulsion shakes my body.
“There’s more on me!” I let out a sound of dismay and brush wildly at myself. But it’s not enough. My whole body feels like it’s crawling with the bugs.
Garan swats at himself. They’re on him too.
“The river,” he says.
We hurry out of the tent and into the river. My horror mounts at the thought of the bugs in my hair so I practically drown myself, scrabbling at my scalp and the rest of my body. Contrary to my wild flailing, Garan is calm and methodical about the process. When we’re done, we sit on the riverbank and let the suns shining above dry us. We finish up the last of the day-old roasted not-coconuts.
His hands planted behind him on the floor, Garan leans back with his eyes closed and his face turned toward the suns. His skin gleams golden-brown, the grooves in his thick arms and abdomen pronounced. Even though he looks human, there are rows of reptilian half-circles just visible beneath his skin along his ribcage and curving toward his back.
Light stubble hugs his jaw and my face warms as I remember the soft, scratchiness against my chin when he kissed me. Mother’s Suns, I don’t think I’ll ever be kissed like that again by another man. Furthermore, if that explosive heat bloomed from a simple kiss, what would happen if we ever were to Do The Deed? I’ll die. Either from the ecstasy overload or from Garan splitting me in half the moment his hard, thick, massive—
My thoughts screech to a halt when Garan opens his eyes and slides his gaze my way. I try to swallow but my dry mouth doesn’t offer much. This hot alien dragon wants me. It was evident in the way he looked at me before he kissed me. It’s evident in the hunger burning just behind those luminous golden eyes now.
