Part One
LIZ
Kira and I watch as Megan and Georgie run their fingers along the panel of the alien ship's hull, trying to figure out how to pry it open and get out the girls enclosed inside. There are six capsules, and each one has another captive girl. Each girl inside has no idea of where she is or how she got here.
"I can't decide if they're the lucky ones or the unlucky ones," I tell Kira.
"Lucky," she says, her soft voice flat. Her gaze is fixed to the blinking lights and the dark wall of the hull.
"They don't know what we've gone through for the last few weeks."
I grunt a maybe sort of agreement. I don't know that I agree with Kira, but she can be a real Debbie downer at times. The last few weeks haven't exactly been a party for the rest of us, but maybe it's better to
know everything than to be blind to it.
I guess.
Kira and I are watching the others work because we're too weak to actually help. Of the six of us, Georgie is the strongest still. She's been with the alien guy so she's been getting three squares a day and warm clothing. The rest of us have been stuck in the hull, and Megan is doing the best out of our small group. I'm weak and lethargic, and my toes hurt like mad. Josie has a leg that looks like it's broken in two spots, and no one knows how to fix it. Kira's ankle is swollen and she's super weak. Tiffany is possibly dying, since we can't wake her up out of the deep sleep she's in. She roused for a bit of broth and then fell unconscious again.
We don't need a warning from the aliens that this planet is killing us. Big duh there.
"It's opening," Megan says, and she and Georgie step back. The panel lifts from the wall with a hiss, just like in the sci fi movies. Inside is a girl in a t-shirt and panties, weird coils wrapped around her body and
feeding into her throat.
I shiver despite myself.
Georgie and Megan study the sleeping girl, trying to figure out the best way to free her. Eventually, they just start ripping tubes and cords off of her and she wakes up and begins to gag. A moment later, the new girl is collapsed on the floor and vomiting up the last of the tubes as Megan strokes her back.
Well, that did it. For better or for worse, we have another person.
The girl begins to sob, her eyes wide. She's clearly confused and frightened, and Kira stands up, opening her arms to pull the girl to her. She makes quiet, soothing noises and enfolds the girl in a hug, helping her away from the wall. Without a single person touching them, the rest of the pods suddenly open.
"Shit, I think we triggered something," Georgie says, and they get to work freeing the next girl. In moments, there are several more girls collapsing on the floor. I get to my feet as best I can, ready to help out.
I limp forward, and as I do, I hear the sounds of the aliens talking. I look over even as the girl nearest to me begins to hysterically wail. "What's happening? Where am I? Who are you?"
I offer her my hand. "I'm Liz and I'll explain when we get the others, okay?"
She keeps wailing and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from shouting at her. Look, I feel like shit and am probably a few steps behind Tiffany on the death ladder, but am I squealing and moaning? No, no I am not. I am sucking it the fuck up.
I gather up a second new girl, this one with freckles and bright red hair, and as I do, Squealer starts to make horrified, choking cries. "Oh my God, what is that?" She points a trembling hand in the distance, and I slap it down.
"It's not polite to point," I say, but the other girls are sucking in horrified breaths at the sight of the aliens lurking at the edge of the hull. Another begins to cry, and a third clings to my neck like she's going to climb me for safety. It's making my broken toes hurt like the dickens, and I look over at Georgie. "We have a situation," I tell her. "Do something, fearless leader."
"Right," she says, and hurries over to the aliens. A moment later, they all climb back out of the rip in the hull and it's just us human girls.
"Let's all go sit over here," Kira says, voice soothing. "We have a fire and water and blankets."
"It's cold," whines one. "I'm so cold and I don't have any pants! Where are my pants?"
"That's because the aliens took you while you were sleeping," I say brightly. "No one has any goddamn pants."
Kira bats my arm with a slap, indicating I should shut up. Okay, so I'm not the most patient woman in the world. Sue me.
"Blankets over there," I encourage, and it's more like herding cats – caterwauling, screeching cats – than baby ducklings, but we manage to get them around the fire and tucked under the blankets that the alien guys have provided.
"I'm still cold," one says, teeth chattering, as she hugs the blanket to her.
I just watch her and try not to judge. We didn't even have this much a week ago. Blankets and a fire and food? This is fucking luxury. But again, these girls have been in pods and don't know any better.
"What now?" Kira asks. Why is she looking at me? I'm not the leader, Georgie is. But Georgie's off trying to convince the aliens to keep their scary faces away from us, so I guess I'm…Robin to her Batman?
Something.
So I take charge. "All right, kids, let's sit in a circle. We're going to do an introduction game like they do at corporate retreats. Any of you work in an office?" When two of the sniffling girls raise their hands, I nod.
It's a start. "Then you'll know how this works. We go around the circle, give your name, your age, and what you do for a living. Then you list off three interesting things about yourself. It'll help us get to know each
other."
"Where are we?" one weeps.
"We'll get to that," I say. "Soon. Now come on. Let's start with you." I turn to the freckled redhead at my side. She's handling the bizarre situation better than most, which is good. She's staring at me like I'm crazy, but that's okay.
I'm pretty sure I'm crazy at this point, too. Heck, I'm trying to do a meet and greet on a crashed spaceship.
But the girl at my side gives a sniff and scrubs her face, deciding to remain calm. "M-my name's Harlow, and I'm twenty two, and I'm going to college to be a veterinarian." She blinks for a minute, looking lost and
forlorn.
"Add some stuff about you."
"I…hate shellfish?"
Close enough. I point at the next girl.
She's the sobber. She weeps and blubbers and her nose runs the entire time. Through a torrent of tears, we get out that she's Ariana, she's born in Jersey, and she's scared. Next to her is Claire, who has big brown eyes and looks frightened. Her voice is barely a whisper, but I don't force her to speak up. Then there's Nora, who looks fierce and pissed off. Marlene, who has a blank expression and a thick French accent, and Stacy, who's weeping but trying really hard not to. I give her props for that. As each person introduces themselves, it becomes obvious that they're all the same age.
Then they get to me. I put a hand to my chest. "I'm Liz Cramer. I'm twenty two, just like you guys. I was a data entry clerk in a small machine stamping office. I grew up in Oklahoma and I like hunting and shooting things with a bow. And three weeks ago, I was kidnapped by aliens."
The girls gasp. Ariana sobs harder.
"Way to ease them into it," Kira mutters.
I ignore her. This'll be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Best to just get it all out there and let them process it.
"Sit back, kids, because you are about to hear the shittiest campfire tale ever."
And I start talking.
I tell them about how, three weeks ago, I was taken by Little Green Men during the night. When I woke up, I was in a dark, dirty hold with a bunch of other women clad in nothing but their pajamas. That we were going to be sold off at some sort of interplanetary trade station, like cattle. That the aliens had six women stored in some sort of stasis pods in the hold, and me and my new best friends in the pen were the ‘extras’.
From their gasps, I can tell they're starting to put things together. That's right, they were the real cargo.
Me and Kira and the awake girls? Well…"You know, when you go to the grocery store for beer and chips are on sale and the next thing you know, you have a cart full of chips? Just call me Pringles."
No one laughs at my joke. That's okay. I still find it funny. You gotta find humor in something. "Anyhow, it seems our alien buddies got greedy and were scooping up as many human women as they could squeeze into their space ship. There were nine of us originally."
Eyes widen. Ariana starts sobbing again. I wish I had a sock because I'd stuff it in her mouth.
"How do you know?" Nora accuses.
"Know what?"
"That they were going to sell you? Maybe they were taking you somewhere good?"
Right, and I'm Casper the friendly fucking ghost. I point at Kira, who's frowning at me.
"That's Kira. Kira’s the only one of us that has a translator. She was ‘lucky’ enough to be picked up first, so they stapled some device into her ear and now she can understand whatever the aliens say to her. That's how we found out what was going on – that we were going to be sold. With the translator, she was able to understand what the aliens were saying. That's how we knew they weren't taking us to Planet Malibu, where we can all sip margaritas and work on our tans."
"Liz," Kira says softly. Nora flinches.
I know I'm not being understanding. I know, and I'm not sure I care. "Here's the thing. Those aliens stole us from our homes. They tagged us like cattle." I point to the bump in my arm where there's a little metal object that I suspect works just like GPS. "And they're going to take us to a meat market and sell us like prize hogs to the highest bidder. And while some dudes fuck their hogs–"
"Gross," mumbles someone.
"–A lot of other guys just eat them," I finish. "So you'll forgive me if I'm not willing to cut our captors any slack. The Little Green Men were not nice. They had guards, and those guards raped several of the girls while we were captive. They kept us in a cage. They made us shit in a bucket. They treated us like less than human. So you need to know that, so you can understand where we're coming from when we're smelly and tired and hungry and sick. Okay?"
The girls around me nod. Ariana starts crying again. "Someone's going to eat us?"
"Not now," Kira soothes. She should be talking. She's the nice one. But she looks at me to keep explaining, and so I do.
"Those aliens are gone. For now." I briefly explain our quick rebellion and how Georgie took out one of the guards, just as our cargo hold was dumped planetside. Now we’re residents of Not-Hoth, as we’ve come to name the place. It’s cold as hell, snow-covered, and completely inhospitable.
Our landing was pretty fucking rough. No one came out unscathed – two girls died. So did three of my toes, which left me incapable of walking further than a few feet. But at least I was alive. "Once we’d assessed our injuries, Georgie – our bravest girl and the least injured – headed out in the only piece of warm
clothing we had, looking for help. The rest of us got to stay behind and freeze. Did I mention the rest of us were in our pajamas? Not exactly warm."
The girl next to me – Harlow – looks ashamed and offers me her blanket. I shake my head. I'm too tired to bother. And weirdly enough, I'm used to freezing my ass off. This is new to her, so she can keep it.
This last week was a week of huddling into a pile with filthy, miserable, injured women for warmth. It was a week of ignoring each other’s smells, abject terror every time there was a sound outside the half-broken hull of the ship, and wondering what was going to happen to us next. Our hair was filthy, our pits stank, and our poop bucket overflowed. But we had no shoes and barely any clothing, so it wasn’t like we could just saunter outside and clean up. Because outside it was one constant blizzard. We were trapped. Trapped, and our food and water supplies were dwindling. I fight back the memories.
Every night, I fell to sleep wondering if I'd live to see the next day.
"Georgie went off to get help," Kira prompts when I'm silent for too long.
I nod, picking up the story again. "Georgie came back after a few days, with a big blue hulking barbarian with horns, a tail, and glowing blue eyes. His name is Vektal, and he's one of the locals."
I skip the part where Georgie was clearly shacking up with Vektal. I mean, the guy came with food and blankets, so I didn't care if she was giving the Incredible Hulk hand-jobs on the side as long as he took care of us.
"They left us with some supplies and went to get reinforcements for our rescue," I say. "Those are the demon guys outside."
A few faces brighten. "So they're nice?"
"They're conditionally nice." I wonder how much I should tell them.
Because our story is pretty fucking grim and there's not a lot of choices to be had.
Not-Hoth, it turns out, isn’t a hospitable planet. In addition to being cold as heck and full of monsters that want to have us for dinner, our new home also some sort of poisonous gas that’s going to kill us slowly.
It's already working hard on us. Tiffany's comatose off in the corner, and I'm so exhausted I can barely raise my head. Right now? I just want to fall over and sleep. And it's going to get worse. This element in the air is going to kill us, because we don't belong here.
But there's a fix. Sort of.
The ‘cure' for the death sentence on this planet? A symbiont that the natives call a khui and we humans call a ‘cootie’.
To live? We're supposed to get…infected. Now, I admit that I've been pretty gung-ho about a rescue here. I'm the chipper one to Kira's glass is half empty. But I am royally wigged out at the thought of getting some sort of bug to live inside me.
The cootie sounds like it’s the answer to our problems, except there’s a catch, Georgie has told us.
Because the cootie is interested in propagating species. So when it sees two people that it thinks should be good mates and will make a perfect baby together? There’s something called ‘resonance’ that happens.
The cootie starts vibrating in your chest whenever you’re near your new ‘mate’ and it won’t stop until the baby-making happens. And Vektal’s tribe of seven-foot tall blue, horned aliens? They’ve only got four females.
If we stay, we’re getting more than a rescue. We’re getting husbands. Georgie's already been claimed by Vektal, and she's pretty happy about it from what I can tell. They can't keep their eyes off each other.
But not only are we getting a cootie, we're getting a man. And we don't even get to pick the man. I'm not sure how I feel about this. So when I say that the guys are ‘conditionally nice', it's true. They're nice because they want someone to put their baby batter into.
"They're nice," I say again, a tight smile on my face. "And now I'm really tired." I ignore Kira's concerned look and this time, when someone offers me a blanket, I take it and curl up.
"What's wrong with her?" Someone asks. "She looks like hell."
I'm sick, not deaf, I think crankily. But all that talking made me tired and I decide to let Kira answer.
"She's got the sickness," Kira explains in her soft voice. "We'll all get it unless we get the symbiont."
"Is that why she's so mean?" One of them – Claire, maybe – whispers.
Am I mean? Impatient, maybe. Tired, definitely. And sick. I just huddle down in the blankets. I can't even smell the hold anymore. I can't even feel the cold. I'm just…tired. So tired.
"She's having a bad day," I hear Kira say. "Give her time."
It's true. I am having a bad day. To think that despite being kidnapped by aliens and living in a smelly, freezing, broken cargo hold for the last week wearing nothing but a short nightgown…I can have a day worse than that? Why yes, yes I can.
The reason for my bad day shows up a moment later. He saunters over to me, where I'm trying to make myself small and invisible under the furs. He ignores the frightened cries of the other women and more or less storms over to my side. Then, he rips back the furs and thrusts a cup of something steaming under my
nose.
He says nothing, just waits.
"Go away," I tell him crankily, and try to tug my blankets back.
The alien won't let me have them. Instead, he pulls them further away, out of my reach. He then pushes the cup under my nose again. It's obvious that if I want my blanket back, I'm going to have to drink that cup of steaming hell he keeps putting under my nose.
He's such a dick.
I take the cup from his hand and glare at him, then try to offer it to one of the nearby girls. "Anyone thirsty?"
He grabs my hand and guides it back toward me with a small grunt, indicating that the drink is for me and only me.
"Who's that?" one of the new girls whispers in a tiny, frightened voice.
"Part of the rescue," I say drily. "The pushy, asshole part." I lift the cup to my nose and sniff it. It smells meaty and like some sort of plant. It also smells like a dirty sock. And there's something peppery in it that makes my eyes water. "I don't want this." I try to push it away. My stomach has shrunken in the last week due to starvation, and the thought of downing this makes me want to puke.
The alien's big hand pushes it back toward me. There's a scowl on his ugly face and he shifts on his feet, waiting. The message is clear: he's not going anywhere until I drink.
Goddamn it.
I take a sip of the broth and immediately start to cough. The aliens have some weird taste buds. Georgie shared some of Vektal's travel rations with us, and it was like biting into concentrated pepper spray. This smells like the sock-flavored hot tea version and tastes even worse. I grimace and push it away, only to have the alien force it toward me again.
"If I spill it, I wonder if you'll make me lick it off the floor," I mutter to myself, but take another sip. It's not as awful on the second taste….oh, who am I kidding? It's rancid. But I drink it, because Tall, Dark, and Brutish isn't leaving until I do. It takes me forever to choke down the sips, and when I get to the bottom of the cup, there's a sludge that makes me gag, but I force it down, too. Then I hand the cup back.
The alien sweeps the fur over my shoulders and tucks it close to my body. He leans in close and I hold my breath. The rest of the ship is utterly silent, and I can feel all eyes on us. He adjusts the blanket, and when I
glare at him, says one word.
"Raahosh."
Then he stands, scowls at the others for staring, and storms away.
"What did he just say?" one of the girls asks.
"It doesn't translate well," Kira says, touching her ear where the translator piece is. "Something like ‘Angry one who growls'."
"It's his name," I say, though I'm guessing. ‘Growly Bastard' suits him. This isn't the first time Raahosh has shown up to say hello. I woke up from a comatose slumber to find him in my face, forcing water down
my dry throat. He'd staked himself out as my own personal rescuer, showing up to hand me meat, drinks, and making sure that I am warm.
In short, he'd been hovering since the hunters had arrived, and it is pissing me off.
Normally I wouldn't mind when a guy showed up and started giving me presents, especially since I was starving. But these presents weren't freely given. Captain Obvious wanted a mate, and he'd staked me out.
He wasn't doing that weird vibratey thing with his chest, though. Georgie had told me that Vektal had a khui – the cootie, as we liked to call it – and that when it recognized its mate, it would make him purr and make him want to sex me up. Vektal had vibrated for Georgie. Raahosh was silent, though.
Which made me thankful…and confused. If he wasn't vibrating for me, why keep coming after me? It made no sense. Stupid alien. I licked my lips and then made a face, because they still tasted like the tea.
"He's hideous looking," Claire says. "Do they all look like that?"
"No, Raahosh is scarier than most," I say cheerfully. I'm glad he doesn't understand English, because I don't know what he'd do if he hears me talking shit about him.
Vektal's kind of cute in an overgrown sort of way. He's blue, and Georgie says his skin is like suede. He's got big, arching horns that emerge from the edges of his hairline and curl around his head like a seven-foot tall ram. He's muscled all over, has a tail, and has these weird bumpy ridges on his arms and across the brow.
Most of the other guys have a similar make-up, with only variations in height, coloring, and horns. Just your everyday blue alien people.
Raahosh stands out from the others in a few different ways. For one, he's the tallest. Which isn't much of a thing considering they all stand above seven feet, but it makes him seem to tower more than most. His shoulders aren't as broad as Vektal's, which means he's only enormous, instead of gargantuan. And while Vektal seems to be more of a pure blue, Raahosh is a darker shade, a grayish blue shade that just makes him seem like more of an Eeyore than the others.
The scars don't help that impression, either. One side of his broad, alien face is scarred up, deep gouges over his forehead and eye telling of a past encounter that he lost. They continue down his neck, and disappear into his clothing. The horn on that side of his head is a jagged stump, his other arching upward as a sleek reminder of what he's missing. Add in a firm mouth pursed with dislike and narrow eyes that glow with the weird blue provided by the symbiont?
I think it's a fair assessment to say that Raahosh is scarier than the others, yeah.
The fact that he's staked me out as his property is…irksome. I told Georgie and the others that for a cheeseburger, I'd do just about anything. But having an alien lay claim to me feels…weird. I don't even get a choice? This is like me saying "I want a cheeseburger" and someone slapping a pickle into my hand and saying "Fuck you, you get a pickle."
And then because I'm thinking of phallic objects, I eye Raahosh again. Not in an obvious way, of course.
I'm lying down and my eyes are mostly closed, but I can see him and another alien guy moving at the edge of the ship, packing bags and double checking things. Georgie and Vektal are nowhere to be seen. I watch Raahosh as he bends over and then stands up.
He has a really long tail. I wonder if that's an indicator of anything going on in another, ahem, area.
Not that I care. Maybe if we have to get this parasite thing, it'll choose someone other than him.
Wouldn't that just piss Mr. Pushy off?
I fall back asleep daydreaming of the look on his face when my cootie rejects him.
RAAHOSH
My khui is an idiot.
It must be. Why else would it ignore the women of my clan and the moment we enter the den of the dirty, ragged humans, it begins to bleat in my chest like a quill beast? Or that it chose the frailest of the sick humans to select as my mate?
A mate that glares at me with knowing, angry eyes and refuses to eat the medicinal broth that I bring her? That pushes aside my hands when I try to help her to her feet? Who scowls when I bring her water?
It's clear that my khui is full of foolishness.
"Did you resonate for anyone?" Aehako asks at my side. He stuffs a fur into a traveling bag. We are preparing the humans' cave for travel, since they are too weak to do so. Everything must come with us, Vektal says. It does not matter that it is stained and filthy, or useless. The humans have so little that he is sure they will treasure whatever they have, so it must come. Two of the hunters that resonated for females have been sent off to get furs from the nearest hunter caves, because the humans are poorly equipped to face the harsh snows, and they have no khui to keep them warm.
This will be remedied shortly, however.
A sa-kohtsk is near. The large creatures carry many khui, and we will hunt one for its meat and ensure that the humans will not die of khui-sickness.
I think of the hollow eyes of my new mate and how miserable she looks. Most of the human hides are a pale color, but my human is paler than most. That must mean she is sicker. I will insist she be one of the first to get a khui.
Aehako repeats his question. "Raahosh? Did you resonate?"
I don't like to lie, but I also don't want anyone to know, not when my mate is glaring at me as if she is
furious.
Raahosh is scarier than most.
Her words cut. She is smooth and pale and weak, and yet I am the one lacking? I shrug and shoulder the pack. "It matters not. We will see what happens when the khui are in the humans."
"I didn't resonate." Aehako looks glum, his broad features downcast. "Do you think more will resonate when they come into season? Perhaps they're not in season." He gives me a hopeful glance.
"Do I look as if I know human seasons?" I snap. "Finish your bag. We need to hurry if we are to get the humans close enough to the sa-kohtsk to hunt it."
Aehako sighs and returns to work. I tell myself he is young. In fact, he might be the youngest hunter in our clan. He will get over his disappointment, or another human will resonate for him later. Or even a sa-khui woman, perhaps one not yet born.
All I know is that I am resonating for one of the dying humans, and if she dies, she takes all my hopes and dreams with her.
I have never had a mate. Never had a lover. Women are few in our clan, and women that want to mate with a scarred, surly hunter even fewer. I never dreamed that I would have a mate of my own.
Now that she is here…I'm not entirely sure how to act. So I remain silent and it takes all of my energy to will my khui to remain silent when the humans stand up and begin to ready for the long trek back to the clan caves. Hunters have returned with furs and one is being cut up to make foot coverings. Others are securing their flimsy clothing, and Vektal's new mate, Shorshie – she of the tongue-tangling name – helps another wrap a thick fur cloak around her.
Only a few of the humans are not readying themselves. The one with dark skin and hair like a tuft of sweet-weed lies unconscious under her furs. Vektal says she is one of the sickest. There is another who has a broken limb, and she leans heavily on Pashov for support to stand.
And then there is mine. My human, who ignores everyone around her and resolutely huddles under the blankets.
She is stubborn. My khui chose well in that aspect. I am stubborn, too. Together, we will make very stubborn kits. A bit of the resentment in my heart leaves at the mental image of the human holding my child to her breast. I would have a family after so long.
"Ready all the humans," Vektal says as he passes by, heading for Shorshie. "We leave very soon."
"What about the ones that cannot walk?" Zolaya asks. "Or the one that cannot be woken?"
"Then we carry them. We do not leave any behind."
Shorshie gives Vektal a loving smile and turns to hug him. "You're so good to us. I can't thank you enough."
He touches her cheek. "You are mine. That is all that matters."
I pretend not to see when she playfully nips at his thumb with her mouth. It is no sin to be affectionate in public, but knowing that my own sick mate sits in her corner and scowls at me makes it difficult to see. She is not happy at the thought of a mate.
She is not happy that it is me. She finds me hideous.
Raahosh is scarier than most.
I grab one of the furs, angry, and storm toward her. It doesn't matter if she likes me or not. The khui chooses the mate. She will simply have to accept it.
"Wake up," I say as I stride to her side and pull back the blankets. "You–"
Her head lolls and she slumps against the floor. She is not willfully neglecting my attention, then. She is unconscious. Fear strikes my heart and I cradle her against my chest, pulling her against my warmth. Her skin is so cold. Can she not retain heat? How will she possibly survive? For a moment, I panic. This must be how Vektal feels when he looks at Shorshie. Helpless in the face of her fragility. I cradle the woman against me and tap her cheek.
She rouses after a moment, and then recoils at the sight of me. "Captain Obvious. I should have guessed."
I ignore the sting to my pride. I don't understand who this ‘Captain Obvious' is. A lot of the human words don't make sense. At the ancestor's cave, we received the knowledge gift of their language, but it's clear that things don't match up properly. Sometimes when my human speaks, I don't understand her.
Though I understood her disdain for me well enough.
I prop her up against my chest and help her to her feet. She hisses with pain as she does, and falls back against me. Her small back hits my chest and my khui immediately stirs to life…as does my cock.
I close my eyes and concentrate, willing both to remain unaffected. Now is not the time.
The human struggles against me, shoving aside my hands. "Quit touching me! Let me go!"
Let her go? She cannot even stand. I won't let her go. I ignore her slapping palms as I run a hand down her bare legs, looking for wounds. She bats my touch away, but not before I see that three of her many toes are swollen and bruised. They are likely broken, and she does not have a khui to heal her.
And she thinks to ignore my help? More foolishness. I ignore her protests and sling her into my arms. I will carry her to the sa-kohtsk hunt if I must. She will get there. I cannot bear to think of she does not.
"Hey! Put me down, you big oaf," she yells in my ear. Her lungs are not suffering, at least. I ignore her bellowing and make sure she is wrapped in the blankets despite her flailing.
"Raahosh," a warning voice says.
I look over – even as the human's hand smacks me on the jaw in protest – and see my friend and chieftain stalking over to me.
"You cannot haul her around if she does not wish it," he says in our language. "Humans must be gently wooed. They are fragile."
My ‘fragile' human's fist slams into my cheekbone. "Put me down," she bellows again. "You fucking
suck!"
I…suck? But I am eating nothing.
"Raahosh," Vektal warns. "You know my orders."
I do know his orders. Do not do anything the humans do not want to do. I gently set mine to the floor with infinite tenderness, resisting the urge to crush her against my chest and stroke her filthy hair. "She is wounded," I tell him gruffly. "I wanted to help."
"There will be time enough for that," he says and claps my arm good-naturedly. Of course he's in a good mood. He has his mate. Mine looks at me as if she'd like to bury my knife into my back. "Let her walk if she wishes to walk."
"Fine," I growl out. I make sure the furs are bundled tightly around her and offer her foot coverings. It's the least I can do, and I pretend not to see when she winces and says more vicious, incomprehensible words as she tries to ease one over her swollen foot. She's covered in wounds, this human creature. There's a fresh one on her arm where a ‘sensor' as they call it was removed from her flesh. This was from the ‘bad guys'. All I know is that I want to get a khui into her so she can heal and get well.
Mating is not even on my mind at the moment. I simply want her to thrive. My hands twitch, desperate to comfort and caress, but when she shoots me another hateful look, I go to join the hunters.
I cannot be around her and not want to touch her.
LIZ
I like to think that I'm not particularly squeamish. I'm really not. My dad was a hunter, and I grew up at his side, baiting fish hooks and skinning the day's catch so we could roast it over a fire. I'm an expert with a bow. I'm not half bad with tracking. I can butcher a carcass like a badass.
But the sa-kohtsk is a creepy mutant motherfucker.
It's been a few hours since we left the ship behind for the last time. I wish I could say I wasn't sorry to see that smelly pit disappear into the distance, but I'm a little freaked out. This planet is an ice planet. It's like Antarctica on steroids, and the sun is setting. There's so much snow that my newly-covered feet sink into it like quicksand, and I see no familiar trees or shelter. It's cold as fuck, my toes feel like red hot pain every time I take a step, and I'm feeling so weak I can barely lift my head. This is not exactly survival mode. At one point, I fall behind the others so far that someone swoops me up and carries me over his shoulder. I don't even have to see the guy's face in the driving snow to realize who it is.
Raahosh. Of course.
Now the girls and I are seated under a few flimsy, willowy trees that shiver with every step the sa-kohtsk takes. The sa-kohtsk is impossible to describe. It's like a wooly mammoth mated with the love child of a brontosaur and a long-legged AT-AT from one of the Star Wars movies. The resulting thing looks like a hairball propped up on spindly legs, and it screeches and moans as the hunters bring it down.
The men crowd around it. Vektal immediately trots over to the women and runs his hands over Georgie.
"Are you well?"
She fusses over him, too. Oh, puke. I tune out and gaze at the downed creature. I miss hunting. I haven't done it since my father died, but seeing the dead thing and the scent of its blood on the air brings back memories of hunting together. I miss Dad. I miss hunting.
I look up and see a pair of glowing, intense eyes watching me from a distance. Raahosh again. I hug my furs closer and ignore him, hobbling closer to Georgie and Vektal so I can hear what's going on.
They're busy making out. I watch Vektal kiss Georgie's forehead. “Now, we get the khui. Gather the women.”
So sexist. Yes, gather up all the little women-folk so they can be taken care of. My lip curls at this, but I hate that I'm such a stereotype. Truth is, I'm too friggin’ exhausted to do anything other than stare.
Georgie steps forward with Tiffany at her side. Poor Tiff. She's from El Paso and really, really isn't doing well with this weather. Plus, I think she's diabetic, so she's not doing so hot. She's been practically comatose all week. Tiffany stands weakly, and Georgie continues to move forward. "Where are the khui?"
"Inside," Vektal says and points at the belly. "Are you ready, my Georgie?"
Like we have a choice? I let Georgie answer, though, and she says, "Let's do this."
The creature is then sliced open from belly to sternum, and blood rushes out. Weirdly enough, it makes me homesick again. "Just like skinning a deer. No big deal. No sweat."
I look over, and Raahosh is still watching me. My skin prickles with awareness and…something else? I might be about to pass out again. I hope not.
At my side, Georgie swallows hard.
There's a cracking sound, and I look over to see Vektal standing on the ribcage of the giant creature, prying it apart with big, straining arms. It gives the loudest snap I've ever heard, and then splits open.
"Really, really big deer," I comment.
Georgie swallows again. Tiffany moans and stumbles away a few feet.
I keep watching, because I need something to concentrate on. I'm afraid if I look away, I'm going to see Raahosh approaching to put his hands on me again. I'm not sure why the thought both annoys me and fills me with a liquid sort of heat.
Vektal takes the heart from one of his men, and it's swarming with wriggling, glowing spaghetti-noodle looking worms. Okay, yeah. This is not cool in my book.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Kira says somewhere off to my side, and Tiffany makes a hurking noise. But Georgie's watching Vektal like he's about to give her a diamond ring or some shit. They murmur quietly to each other, and then he pulls out his knife.
"What…what if it goes to my brain?" Georgie asks.
This is a worm. This is not cool. I am not down with this. "Like that's any better than your heart?"
Seriously?
"The khui is the essence of life," Vektal says in a reverent voice.
And then dumb Georgie takes the worm from him and he cuts a nick in her throat. And I watch the thing wriggle into it like a heat seeking missile.
Oh, hell no. I am not down with this shit. I have seen what worms do to an animal's heart. Hunters know you don't eat the diseased meat. You certainly don't sign up to become the diseased meat. I back away a few steps. Georgie's shuddering and gasping, and she collapses into Vektal's arms. A few other women make cries of distress, and then the men are everywhere, offering glowing cooties to them.
I am so getting out of dodge. Nope. Nope. Nope. I will figure something else out. There simply has to be another option. I stumble backward to the copse of trees that provide no protection. The other girls look at me curiously, then turn back to Georgie. She's our leader, so they're looking to her.
That's fine. If Georgie jumps off a cliff, it doesn't mean I have to, also. She may be blinded by big blue alien dick, but I am not. There's intense, throbbing pain in my foot but I ignore it. If it's not too late, I can go back to the ship, regroup, and figure something else out. I know I'm panicking. I know this isn't logical, but everything I've ever learned at my father's side is telling me that this is a terrible idea.
Parasites kill their hosts.
As I awkwardly shuffle past the others, I see the aliens gently leading the women forward, toward their doom. Gee, that's sweet of them. There's no proof this works on a human, and Georgie went down like a light. That is not normal. Hugging my furs tighter, I waddle away a few more steps.
And stop.
In front of me, slitted eyes glowing, is Raahosh. He eyes me.
"Don't you try to stop me, buddy," I retort at him, though I know it's no good. He doesn't understand English.
But he grabs my furs and tries to turn me around anyhow.
I jerk them out of his grip and continue forward. In the distance, I hear another woman cry out, only to fall silent. I shudder.
Raahosh grabs me by the hips and slings me over his shoulders again.
"No!" I say, pounding a fist on his shoulder. "I don't want it! You can't make me!"
He hesitates, and then to my surprise, he sets me down again. He gazes at me for a moment, and then reaches up to caress my jaw. I allow it, since he's not dragging me back there. His touch is oddly gentle, caressing up and down my cold cheek. Then he gestures at the ground, as if indicating that I should wait here.
"Fine. Whatever. I'm just not going back to that." I sit heavily in the snow, taking my weight off of my bad foot.
He turns and strides toward the dead sa-kohtsk and the group of hunters. I watch him disappear into the darkness and shiver. I'll wait for a few minutes, then move on. Maybe he's going to tell the others that I changed my mind, that he's going to guide me back to the ship.
Maybe this Raahosh guy isn't such a jerk after all.
I close my eyes and rub a hand over my face. It's freezing out here, and I'm so tired I could fall over and sleep, snow and all. My brain's getting foggy. There has to be another option, though. If I could think clearly, maybe I'd be able to come up with one.
My mind goes back to Georgie, and the way Vektal cut her neck. The gleeful wriggle of the thing as it burrowed into her. Her cry and then collapse. I shudder.
A figure appears at the edges of my vision. I just barely realize that it's Raahosh before a gigantic hand goes to my shoulder and forces me onto my back in the snow.
"What?" I sputter.
His knee goes over my shoulder a moment later, pinning me against the ground. His hand is cradled to his chest and I can barely see a glowing, snake-like filament wriggling there.
Then, he draws a knife from a sheath at his waist.
"Goddamn it, motherfucker! No!" I fight him, struggling against his weight pinning me down. But I'm weak and he's huge, and I'm barely able to bat at him as he lays the blade against my neck and carefully makes a cut at my collarbone.
"No!" I protest, but he's not listening. This asshole, this jerk, is forcing the parasite on me.
He's not my friend. Not at all. He's not letting me have a choice.
I fight against his hands as he leans in with the cootie.
"I will hate you forever if you do this," I hiss at him, trying to push him away.
He just gives me a hard look and then leans in. I hear a tiny hissssss as the cootie finds my skin, and then
it's wriggling into me.
And I pass out from shock.
RAAHOSH
I tell myself that it doesn't matter that she'll hate me forever as I watch her unconscious body shiver and jerk, acclimating to the khui. At least she will be alive. My father and my mother never liked each other. Until the day my mother died, she cursed my father. Their mating was a supremely unhappy one, but they were still a family.
My human can hate me and still be my mate. I'm not going to allow her to choose to die. I won't. I'll keep her safe, even if I must keep her safe from herself.
I heft her small form into my arms and cradle her against my skin. She's so cold. So fragile. I did the right thing by forcing the khui on her. She wouldn't have lasted another day without it. Holding her close, I consider.
If I take her back to camp, when we return, she will be furious. She will tell the others that I forced her to take the khui.
Vektal, my chief, will not be happy. He says we must cater to the humans. Give them what they want.
It is…easy for him to say that when Shorshie looks at him with love and affection. Not so easy when your human looks at you with anger and disgust.
Raahosh is scarier than most.
If I take her back to the others now, they will be furious with me. My khui vibrates in my chest for my human, and for the first time in the last day, I let it hum freely. I resonate, and it feels incredible.
They cannot take her from me.
I turn and look back at the others, still huddled close to the sa-kohtsk. They will be there for hours yet.
The humans will be asleep for a while. Maybe a day. I don't know how long it will take. There will be meat to
carve up and bring back to the clan caves, and humans to escort and fawn over.
They will be distracted.
Instead of taking my human back to camp, I hold her closer and head in the opposite direction, out of the valley.
I'll take her and hide her away, and I won't return with her until she is full of my child and we are truly mated. Then we will return to the clan and be part of it once more.
Until then? She is mine and mine alone.
• • •
There's a cave out in the wild I like to think of as my own. Our clan cave supports many mouths and sometimes our hunters must range wide to feed everyone. Thus, we have a network of hunter caves dotted through the wilds that provide a resting place for any hunter who needs to stay out through the night. There are furs, fire-making implements, and sometimes a few other supplies to ease things. These caves are for any hunter to use, so long as they are left in the same condition as when the hunter arrived.
But this cave is mine and mine alone. I found it on a hunt when I was a small kit on one of my first forays into the wild on my own. The entrance is hidden by a large sheet of glacial ice in the brutal months, but right now it is merely bitter and the path will be open.
It's not far from where we are, and it has been on my mind for hours as I walk. My human weighs nothing in my arms, nor does she rouse. She will just need time to acclimate to the khui, I tell myself. There is nothing to worry about. She has been sick. It will take time. It still strikes fear into my heart, and my steps increase in speed.
My cave is just as empty as I left it. There are signs that a nesting animal stopped in, but it's empty now. I clear debris off the neatly-stacked furs in the corner and then lay my human down amidst them. She shivers, her body trembling. The bone-chilling cold is gone from her skin, a sign that the khui is warming her, but still she quivers and shakes. I decide to build a fire, and spend time setting it up, trying to ignore the thrumming of my khui as it sings a song to the unconscious woman in my bed.
My bed.
My mate is in my bed.
I groan, hit by a wave of need so strong it makes me dizzy, and I close my eyes, willing myself to be strong. She will be awake soon enough, and then we can mate.
She moans with pain as she sleeps, and her foot twitches. I remove her coverings gently, then massage her small feet. They're dirty and small, without the bony protective ridges that cover vulnerable spots on my own skin. She has five toes where I have three, and at the sight of the purple, swollen ones, I remember that they are broken.
They must be set for the khui to heal them.
She whimpers, her head tossing, eyes flicking under her eyelids. I must do this while she's unconscious so as not to cause her more pain. Strangely, the thought of hurting her makes my stomach churn. I run my fingers over her toes and compare how the bones sit. Then I suck in a breath and set them. I fight back bile as the bones make a snapping noise, moving back into place. She makes a choking sound and slumps.
I manage to set all three toes and then carefully bind them with leather wraps to hold them in place before my stomach rebels. I barely make it out of the cave before I vomit. Then, I kick snow over the patch of sickness, disgusted at myself. I have set broken bones for my clan mates. I have set my own broken bones.
Never have I been sick at the thought of causing pain.
Already this small female changes me.
My khui hums in my chest, urging me to return to her side. I do, and she looks small and fragile and miserable in my furs. Dirty, too.
I tell myself I should undress her to check for more wounds. That she will appreciate a clean mane and clean skin when she awakens. All the while, my khui thrums and pulses agreement. It wants me to touch her.
To claim her. And I cannot resist its siren call.
I set up a tripod over the fire and hang a snow-filled cooking bladder over it. The snow will melt and warm, and then I can clean her. Now to tend to my mate.
Her filthy clothing is strangely made, and it takes me a few moments to pull it off of her body. Once I do, I toss it aside to clean later. There seem to be two parts – a long tunic that reaches her hips, and a tiny loincloth that puzzles me. Is it for protection? It barely covers her hips, and it's clear that the humans cannot handle the temperature extremes of being outdoors. Is that why she is so pale and unhealthy? Does she not go outside?
When she is naked, I see the differences in our bodies more plainly. My khui sings louder than ever in my chest, but I'm not about to fall atop an unconscious, sick woman and mate her, so I ignore it. Instead, I crush soap-berries into the warming water and stir. Then I wet my hands and slide them over her skin to clean her.
And if I am being honest with myself, also to touch her. My cock is hard as stone at the first brush of my skin against hers, but I will myself to ignore it. She is filthy, and weak, and tired.
And she hates me.
That enables me to be strong as much as anything else. I sweep my fingers over her pale flesh repeatedly, rubbing at dirtier spots and exploring. She is soft all over, her skin without the distinctive, protective ridges that we sa-khui have over our most vulnerable parts. She is almost entirely hairless, too, which I find odd. My people have a downy fur covering their skin, but hers is open to the cold. No wonder she shivers so easily. The only places she grows a mane is on her head, and between her legs. I remember Vektal telling us of the humans and their strange anatomy. He claimed his Shorshie has a third nipple between her legs. Does this one have the same? Curious, I slide a hand over her sex and push her lips apart with my fingers. Surely enough, a small nub is exposed. It is poised at the top of her slit, and gleams with arousal. Even as I touch her, the scent of her sex perfumes the air.
I need her.
I close my eyes and will myself to be strong. My khui throbs incessantly, full of longing. It reminds me of everything I have never had, and everything I have wanted for what feels like an eternity.
She will be my first everything. My first mate. My first lover. The mother of my children. My hand trembles a little as I release her sex, resisting the urge to stroke the soft folds that gleam with arousal. The khui is already working on her if she responds to my touch, even unconscious.
I hope she will awaken soon.
The thought of my mate awake springs me into action. She will need food and drink, and warm, fresh clothing. She will have questions…and she will be angry. For some reason, the thought of her anger amuses me. It's like she blames me for her predicament. As if I could control a khui and choose my own mate. I snort as I go back to scrubbing her dirty skin. Filthy water sluices off of her, and it takes many rounds of washing until her skin is a fresh color that I am satisfied with. I also clean her mane, and it's surprising to me because what seemed dark and unremarkable is now a dark golden color. It is soft and tangles easily, and I get out a double-toothed pick from my bag and slowly detangle handfuls of the wet locks until they’re clean and gleam in the firelight, and run through my fingers like the soft, feathery leaves of a sashrem tree. It's her most attractive feature, I think, because the rest of her is so soft and weak that I don't know what to think.
Even her breasts are heavy but tipless. Her nipples are barely noticeable against her skin. It's strange.
I finish bathing her and pull an extra tunic and a skirt out of the bag I had on my shoulder. We took old clothing from the women of our tribe for Shorshie's humans, but when it became apparent that there were eleven humans and not the five we'd expected, the clothing became a precious commodity, and I hid what I could for my mate. I dress her in these as best I can, then let her sleep by the fire as I take a bite of travel rations. The food sticks in my throat. It's difficult to eat when my mate is right there, her legs covered by a long leather skirt. I could easily slide between her legs and claim her, and her body would welcome mine.
And then she would look up at me with more hate in her eyes. I shake the thought away, rub a hand over the bulge of my groin until the ache goes down, and then decide to hunt for my mate.
Fresh food. That will be what she needs. With that idea in mind, I haul myself out of the cave and pick up my hunting spear.
LIZ
Everything hurts. I feel like I just woke up from an all-night bender. My head feels swimmy, my skin feels hot, and my foot aches.
But weirdly enough? I'm not tired. Not the bone deep ache that has been my constant companion since arriving on this planet. I smell something fresh and fruity and turn my head, realizing that I'm lying in a nest
of furs and the nice scent?
It's my hair.
That wakes me up. I sit up and glance around. I haven't been shower-fresh in weeks, and I suppose I got used to my stank smell. But my hair is clean and soft and brushed, and I'm wearing new clothing.
My nostrils flare and my breathing quickens. I'm wearing new clothing. Someone fucking undressed me while I was unconscious.
A heavy fur covers my legs, and there's a banked fire with a tripod of something that smells like tea over it. I sit up, confused.
As I do, a big figure enters the small cave and looms in the doorway.
Raahosh. He lifts his chin at the sight of me, awake, and then tosses a fresh kill on the floor of the cave.
Then he puts his back to me and works on securing the leather flap that acts as a door.
The sight of him reminds me of why I was unconscious. The cootie. It's inside me. I whimper and my fingers go to the wound that should be at my throat, the wound that Raahosh cut for me when I changed my
mind.
It's gone.
It's all sealed up. The thing is in me. I claw at my throat, desperate to remove it.
As I do, Raahosh storms over to me and grabs my hands, pulling me away. As he touches me, my chest starts to rumble. At first I think it's my stomach, but the rumbling gets louder, until my breasts are practically vibrating with the response. I'm purring…for Raahosh.
Do not want.
I fight against him, now a mixture of furious and desperate. I don't want the cootie. I don't want Raahosh. I don't want any of this. I kick and snarl and fight against him as he holds my wrists. I try to reach for my throat, but he won't let me. He won't let me claw it out. The alien grabs my jaw and forces me to lock my gaze with his.
Then, he gives a small shake of his head. No, he's telling me.
Well fuck that. And fuck him. A moment later he releases my hands, testing me.
I slam a fist into the side of his face. "Dress me while I'm unconscious, motherfucker? Bathe me? Fucking force a cootie in me? I hate you!" Each shouted word is punctuated by flailing arms and kicking feet until I'm an unstoppable dervish of anger, beating against him.
His only response?
An annoyed sigh. Then, he grabs my wrists again, wrestles them behind my back, and pushes me into the furs.
"No!" I shriek even as my cheek hits the soft fur.
He mutters something in the alien language and then I feel cords moving around my wrists. The bastard's tying me up.
Just when I think Raahosh can't be a bigger dick, he surprises me. "I hate you so much," I snarl.
He finishes tying me, moves to tie my feet, and then returns to the nearby fire as if it's no big deal.
Panting, furious with anger, my gaze darts around the small cave. Where are we? "Where is everyone?"
He skins the carcass of the small animal and begins to butcher it, ignoring my questions. When he's satisfied, he cuts small pieces and then lays them on a hot rock. His lip curls as they sizzle and begin to cook, and his gaze slides over to me.
My stomach growls. Worse than that, my chest is still thrumming with the reaction of my cootie to him. If this means what I think it means… I just acquired myself an alien husband.
Fuck.
This guy?
I moan, because this is not what I wanted. If I had to have an alien, why couldn’t I have a nice smiley guy?
Someone with a grin that lights up at the sight of me and treats me like gold? Someone that looks at me like Vektal does Georgie?
Instead, I have the alien version of Grumpy Cat, and he just roped and tied me like a calf at a rodeo.
Asshole.
I put my head down on the blankets, trying to calm myself. “Okay,” I tell no one in particular. “You’re here, Liz. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. You’re alive. You’re healthy…parasite notwithstanding.” I adjust, trying to flex my arms in the bonds. “You’ve got a new friend, and a nice warm cave. And someone’s making you dinner instead of you being dinner. It could be so much worse.”
I look over at Raahosh.
He glances at me, then calmly turns a piece of meat over with the tip of his knife, cooking the other side.
It’s clear he isn’t paying attention to my talk, which just further emphasizes that he’s not one of the aliens that got the language zap. Doesn’t surprise me – unfriendly bastard probably didn’t want a wife.
“So he doesn’t speak English,” I breathe, twisting my hands in the ropes. “I’m sure you can communicate with him somehow, Liz. Just use your brain.”
I think for a moment. It’s an old southern saying that you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
Too bad I’m all piss and vinegar, but I’ll try to be honey for a moment. “Hey, Raahosh?” My voice is sweet as sugar.
He stills next to the fire at the sound of his name. His eyes narrow.
I lift my hands and gesture at them as best I can. “Wanna take these off for me? I promise I won’t behave but you don’t know that, do you?” I keep my smile encouraging. “Nice alien. Good alien. Come free the nice
human.”
He blinks.
I lift my hands again and give a wiggle on the furs. The movement causes my nipples to rub against the fabric of my tunic, and…oh shit. I have to bite back the moan that threatens to escape me.
I am so freaking aroused. Stupid cootie.
I press my thighs together tightly, willing the thing to stop drumming a beat in my chest. Stop, I tell it.
Stop it right now. Eventually it calms down, and I look at Raahosh again. He’s gathering the cooked pieces of meat into a small pouch and then moves over to my side.
“Free me, Raahosh?” I nod at my hands.
In response, he stuffs a piece of charred meat into my mouth.
“I really hate this guy,” I say as I chew aloud. “Can’t make lemonade when the lemon’s such a huge dick.”
He simply shoves another piece into my mouth, oblivious to my misery.
• • •
After I finish eating, I fall back asleep despite the ties, and when I wake up, it’s dark outside. The fire’s banked but still giving off low light, and it’s rather toasty warm despite the howling snow coming from
outside the cave mouth.
Raahosh is gone.
So are the binds on my wrists and feet.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I feel better after my second nap, most of my aches and pains gone. I don’t know where the others are, though, and I wonder why it’s just Raahosh and me. I can’t even ask him. Was this part of the plan? I can’t think so, because I picture the newly awakened human girls trying to cope with being split off from the group and paired away with a stranger and I can’t imagine anyone thought this was a
good idea.
“Hello?” I ask.
The cave is silent, near dark. I’m by myself.
For a moment, I think about escaping. Just running away and giving a big fuck-you to Raahosh. But I’m not an idiot. I have no idea where I am, or where he’s taken me. I know nothing about this planet and even if he’s a dick? He’s my best chance at survival for right now.
But I am incredibly glad he’s gone for now…because I am so damn horny.
I don’t want to be. In fact, this should probably be my least sexy moment ever. I’m kidnapped by aliens, forced to eke out a living on an ice planet, and now I’m basically married to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Super Pissy.
Even as I think of Raahosh, though, the mental image makes my cootie start up. It begins to purr in my chest, jiggling my sensitized breasts and making my nipples rub against the thick fabric of the tunic.
I moan and fall back on the blankets.
This feels…way too good. It’s not fair.
My hand slides under my tunic and I cup my breasts. Oh God, they ache so badly. I feel hollow between my legs, too. I need sex, and I need it badly.
And the only guy around is Raahosh of the tall, lean body and permanently scowling face.
Gee, thanks cootie. Thanks a lot.
I imagine Raahosh again, though, and my hand slides under my skirt.
My pussy is soaked, my curls wet and slick with need. The lips of my sex feel swollen and achy, and when I graze my fingers over my clit, it’s so sensitized that I nearly come right then and there. I moan aloud, and begin to finger myself.
Maybe a quick masturbation session while Raahosh is gone is just what I need to keep the cootie under control. Even as I tell myself that, the mental image of Raahosh fills my mind and I imagine his muscular, tapered shoulders bared as he leans in over me. I imagine his firm, unsmiling mouth pulling back in a hiss of pleasure as he sinks into me and we start to fuck.
Great, now I’m masturbating to the alien. I’m going to blame the cootie for this, too. I don’t like the guy.
I don’t.
I can’t deny that the thought of us fucking gets me wet as hell, though. I slip a finger into myself and whimper because it’s not enough. I need more. I need him. But for now, fingering will do. I position my thumb over my clit and begin to rub, and arch off the furs.
“Raahosh,” I moan, sliding my thumb over my clit.
And wouldn’t you know it, the bastard appears in the doorway of the cave as if I called his name.
Which I had.
I’m caught, my hand in my pants.
Moaning his name.
I’m never going to live this one down.
