Barbarian Alien (7 page)

She points at the raw meat I’ve been cutting off the kill. I’m surprised. Didn’t Vektal say his mate was squeamish about raw food? But Liz’s eyes are wide and curious, and she’s watching my mouth in a way that makes me imagine the two of us mating, my mouth pressed against her soft, pale skin.

I will give her anything she asks for. Anything. Everything.

I cut a thick, meaty chunk of flesh from the quillbeast for her. When she reaches for it, I brush her hand aside. If my mate wants my food, I will feed it to her. She gives me an irritated look when I try, but I’m used to that by now. After a moment, she dutifully opens her mouth, waiting for me to feed her.

A low groan of need escapes me.

She doesn’t open her eyes. “You are such a pervert,” she says in a husky voice and her mouth opens a little wider.

I delicately place the bit of meat between her lips. The thoughts I’m having about my mate are carnal and wrong, because I’m picturing her pink mouth moving over my skin, caressing the ridges along my arms and stomach…and then moving lower.

I’m not entirely sure if that’s done, but now that the image is in my mind, I can’t get rid of it. My cock strains behind my breechcloth, desperate to claim my mate.

She takes the meat and chews slowly, considering. Then she nods and opens her eyes. “Better. Much better. Now I see why you guys eat the raw stuff.” Her hand goes to my knee and she gives me a wide-eyed, innocent look I have seen on young kits trying to coax a parent. “Can I eat yours?” She points at the meat I’ve laid aside for my own meal.

And then to emphasize her point, her thumb strokes my knee.

I am being coerced by wide eyes and a simple touch. I know it’s all to manipulate me, but I find I don’t care. If she keeps her hand there, I will feed her every scrap of meat in the cave. I cut her another chunk and feed her again, fascinated by her small mouth working, the pleased expression on her face.

The hand on my knee. I’d give anything for it to be under my breechcloth, stroking my cock.

I feed her bit after bit, and she takes it from my hand, her own khui thrumming. I’ve forgotten all about food. My mate’s nearness has taken over all my senses.

Eventually she sighs and pats her stomach, and waves me away when I try to offer her another bite. I get up, though, to find the waterskin and offer it to her, so I can be close to her for a few minutes more. She drinks, her mouth wet and glistening, and I’m fascinated by it.

When I first saw the humans, I thought they were ugly, their faces strange, and their skin too soft. They have no hard ridges along their arms and chest like we do to protect muscle and organs. They have no horns or tail. They are utterly defenseless. Even her small face is different than my own people’s, with its flat forehead and pale hair unlike any color I have ever seen.

But it is burned into my dreams. Now, when I imagine happiness, I imagine her face. It doesn’t matter that she is different – she is mine and I am hers.

“You’re staring at me,” she says as she puts the waterskin down. “Always staring, dude.” She sighs a moment later, before I can look away. “I wish you spoke English so I could tell you how weird I find all of this.”

I feign ignorance and reach out to touch her face again.

“Newwwp,” she says, and I don’t recognize the word. It’s obviously a dismissal, though. She raises her hands and shakes her head. “Enough with the kissy-kissy stuff for now. We need to talk. Language lesson time.” She puts a hand to my chest. “Raahosh.”

I put a hand to her chest in the same spot. “Liz.”

Her face goes crimson and she slaps my hand away. “Not the boobs!”

What did I just do wrong? I reach for her again, and she slaps my hand away once more. Her khui is thrumming, and I see her nipples hardening under the thin leather of the tunic. Ah. This arouses her? Unable to help myself, I brush my fingers over one of her nipples.

She emits a shriek and slaps me across the face. “No means no, dickface!” Then she gets up and storms away.

I reel, touching my cheek. Her little smack on my jaw didn’t hurt, but I’m more stunned that she struck me than anything.

She’s fierce, my Liz. I like that.

And if she thinks she’s going to scare me away with a slap on the cheek, she is very wrong. I grin to myself as she grabs the blankets and huffs away, deliberately turning her back to me. I can still hear her khui thrumming. It gives away how much she liked my touch — as does the scent of arousal on the air.

My mate’s arousal.

This must be more of the curious human mating rituals. Maybe that’s what
newwwp
means. I mentally repeat the word to myself so I can tell her the same thing at the appropriate time.

LIZ

Dumb, dumb Liz. Your communication skills need some serious work
, I tell myself. I put my hand flat on his chest and said his name. He knew my name, though. He gritted it out between those big fangs when he stroked himself off.

I’m not getting hot thinking about that. I’m not. I’m not.
I slap my chest to make sure my khui is listening.

So of course he put his hand on my tits. It’s the same spot, just on me. Except I forgot how sensitive my body is thanks to the cootie, and I nearly leapt out of my skin at his touch. I might have freaked a bit. Just a bit. Because one more touch after that nipple grab? I’d have been shucking my barbarian version of panties–

Oh wait, that’s right. I don’t have
any.

I’m pantsless under the blankets, my half-finished skirt-now-pants still needing more stitches. My hand is desperate to press between my legs and relieve my need…except I know it won’t. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he grabs himself and starts stroking his ginormous cock again. I don’t trust my cootie-crazy self to not just, like, shimmy on up to him and start tonguing him everywhere and anywhere.
Oh, is that your ear? My bad, it’s so sexy. That elbow, too. And dig those eyebrows. They’re just begging to be licked.

Actually I’m so horny that even the thought of a good eyebrow licking is making me wet. Then the word ‘horny’ makes it worse, because now I’m picturing his big horns and what it’d feel like if I licked those. Or, you know, straddled one and rubbed my girl parts on it for a bit.

Stop it, Liz! You suck!

I do suck. I sigh. I need a game plan. The longer I’m in this cave with no one but Raahosh and my cootie, the harder it is to deny the urgings my body is singing with. I need a plan of escape. I’m not sure where to go, but I know I can’t stay here. I mentally catalog the things I’ll need for survival. Food. Drink. Weapons. Shoes. Warm clothing. Shelter.

My dad and I used to go on hunting trips back in Oklahoma, back before he died. I know how to build a fire. I know not to drink the yellow snow. I’ve got clothing and these blankets will do just fine as wraps to keep the coldest winds out. I know how to hunt, so food can be had if I have a weapon. Shelter might be tricky but I can’t plan for that, really. I just have to hope for the best.

I’m really down to shoes and weapons. I can make shoes with leather from my pants and one of the blankets here – I just need to do it when Raahosh is out hunting so he won’t notice.

As for weapons…I could steal Raahosh’s spear, I suppose, but it’s huge and heavy, and my muscles are wimpy. I don’t know that I’d be effective with it. What I really need is a bow. If I had a bow, I’d be able to rock this survival shit. I’ve got mad skills with a bow and arrow.

So. Shoes first, then I can look for stuff to make a bow. Once I have a bow, I can get away out into the wild white yonder.

And do what? Not entirely sure, but it’s a plan. Sometimes all you can do is run with what you’ve got.

RAAHOSH

My mate’s too quiet.

Liz, who talks endlessly even though she knows I can’t understand her, Liz, who would talk to a stone if it had ears, Liz, who even talks in her sleep — is silent. She awoke from her nap with a cunning look in her glowing blue eyes, and watches me as I prepare to go hunting again.

I’m out for most of the day, getting food for my mate, and when I return, she’s still silent, but her mood is pleasant. She lets me feed her raw bits of food and doesn’t even push me away when I caress her cheek.

I sense a trap.

But she yawns sweetly and smiles at me when she crawls back to the furs for sleep, and I’m drawn to her anyhow, my khui thrumming with need and want. Is this…part of the human mating ritual? Do I tell her newwwwp now? Will she fall into my arms and part her legs for me so we can mate and become one?

I have no experience in this. I lay down in the bed with her, unable to stop from caressing the shoulder and back turned in my direction.

She flicks my hand away, and oddly enough, that makes me feel better. That is familiar. I wait until she goes to sleep, and then I drift off as well.

Sometime just before dawn, I feel her small form tense next to mine.

I keep my breathing even so I don’t alert her to the fact that I’m awake. I’m curious to see what she’s going to do. Run? Try to kill me? This isn’t like before when she rolled out of bed and smacked her lips noisily before heading out to relieve herself. This time, she’s trying to be sneaky. She slowly, carefully removes my hand from her waist and lays it flat on the furs. Then she carefully peels the furs back and wiggles her way out, trying not to disturb me as I ‘sleep’. When she’s out of the furs, she looks over at me, but I’m still feigning, my eyes closed, breathing peaceful. Satisfied, I hear her take a few steps away and I open my eyes a slit, peering at her through my lashes.

She’s moving to the corner of the cave, and as I watch, she takes my boots and slides them onto her smaller legs. I watch as she rolls the leather up to her thigh and then secures it with the ties, and the picture is breathtaking in its eroticism…despite my curiosity as to what she’s doing. My cock’s hard as stone by the time she puts my other boot on. My khui hasn’t stopped thrumming all night due to her nearness, and the ache in my body is becoming a palpable thing. I need to possess my mate.

She looks at my spear, considers it, and then glances back at me to see if I’m still asleep.

I remain still, waiting to see what she does.

Liz turns away and pads out of the cave on quiet feet, my spear in her hand.

Well, now I have to see what is going through her mind. I roll from the bed and decide to follow a safe distance behind. The snow’s cold on my feet, but I ignore it. My skin’s used to the harsh conditions and I can stand a little ice, unlike her fragile human flesh. I notice she’s also finished her leggings while I was gone. I admire the curve of her bottom as she moves through the snow, clearly struggling in my larger shoes. The snow near the ice wall is up to my knee, and goes to her hips. She mutters unhappy words in her human language as she struggles forward, every footfall sinking into the powder. Perhaps she’ll get tired and turn around.

But my human is made of sterner stuff, and I suppress a smirk as she struggles onward, muttering human words under her breath that I can’t quite catch.

To my surprise, she heads for the distant trees. Is she hungry? The leaves are inedible, and the bark is only medicinal, good when steeped in hot water for long hours and left to soak overnight. Curious, I follow a safe distance behind. What is she up to?

I wish the khui let me read her thoughts, because my human mate is impossible to understand.

LIZ

There are trees not too far from our hidey hole. I make a beeline for them, slugging through the heavy snow. I have to be fast, because if Raahosh discovers that I’m gone, he’s going to lose it. I’m not trying to escape — not yet. I’m looking for materials for a bow. I need some elastic sort of material for the string, but rawhide will do if I can twist it into a tough, flexible cord. Raahosh has been saving the pelts from our kills, and I have plans for them. I can even make a string from fibers or even my own goddamn braided hair if I have to – I’ll figure something out.

But I haven’t seen a lot of material that would make a good bow itself. It has to be a long length of something wood-like. It needs to flex a bit, and bend, but not too much.

I spent a lot of time studying Raahosh’s spear, because it’s nearly seven feet long and has a bit of flex to it, but it’s too heavy for what I need. I need lighter, stronger.

So I trudge through the snow, heading for the trees. They don’t look like any sort of regular tree that I know of. For one, they look more like eyelashes or feathers than actual trees. They whip back and forth in the bitter winter winds, and the leaves look like pinkish, fluttering floss. Still, they’re the closest thing I can think of to wood, so I head toward them.

I make it to the trees and the snow shallows out a bit, which is nice. It makes it easier to trudge along, and I head for the first tree, running my hand along the bark. At least, I think it’s bark. But it feels spongy and slightly sticky, which squicks me out. The trunk itself is maybe as thick as a can of soda, and as another breeze rises, it flaps and flutters in the wind. Damn it. This probably won’t work. I use the big stone spearhead on Raahosh’s spear to cut into the side of the bark. Maybe if I get past the bark, the core itself is solid and usable?

But as I saw into the wood (and really, calling it that might be a joke), it just seems to get more gelatinous and mushy, and begins to ooze pink stuff that smells terrible and sticks to my fingers. I wipe my hands on the snow and wrinkle my nose.

That is not going to work for a bow.

I sigh and stare around me, miserable. There has to be something on this damn ice planet that will function as a bow. Seriously. I know that Raahosh and Vektal’s people are super low-tech due to being as stranded here as we are, but come on. Bows are basic.

Then again, I haven’t seen anyone here with a bow, either. They all had slings, spears, and knives.

Dammit.

I haven’t been gone that long, so I trudge onward in a straight line. I’m not sure where I’m heading off to but fuck it. There’s a big giant glacier of ice behind me that I know the cave is at the base of. I’ll just follow it home if I get lost. I crest a hill or two when I see…something. I trudge through the snow a bit more – while it’s nippy, it’s not bone-chilling cold like it was before, and I know my cootie’s probably the one to thank for that. It’s adjusting my body to the environment, adapting me.