198. Ability to Stay Alive
198
Ability to Stay Alive
M aya
We leave the bathroom and A’Dar hands me the knife he gave me the first time he fed from me. He grabs a spear from his closet. I don’t even want to ask why a guy from outer space who has an armory worth of high-tech laser weapons in his closet would need anything as old-fashioned as a spear. Does it really matter?
Now that we’re armed, he tells his friends to come ahead, unlocks his door, and we wait to see who barges through.
I almost jump out of my skin when the door slams open and four people charge through. His two Xenon friends each have one of my friends in tow. I actually let out a soft, startled bark when I focus on Anna and Emily. My nervous giggle is next. Both women join in.
“It looks like I wasn’t the only one donating to the cause,” I say as I take in their golden eyes and increased stature. Even formerly five-foot-two Anna’s cuffs are barely rolled up anymore.
“I think it’s less about the donatin’ and more about the receivin’,” Emily says with a self-deprecating laugh.
As much as I want to retreat to the far corner of the small cabin to have a private talk with my new besties, I’m inexorably drawn to touch A’Dar. Whatever odd alien chemistry is binding us together is powerful.
Although I’m embarrassed, I can’t control the urge. I finally approach him, even though getting close to his two friends is terrifying. Once I grip his hand and lean in, sneaking a whiff of his scent, I’m fortified enough to go to the far corner and talk.
“You guys okay?” I whisper.
The three males aren’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. They’re bald-facedly watching, not even talking—the better to hear you with, my dears.
“As okay as I can be considering we’ve been watching the alien females get picked off one by one out there,” Anna says.
As if on cue, a screeching wail pierces the air so loudly you’d think the person was standing right outside in the hallway.
“You both… donated blood?” I ask, then see both of them have telltale marks on their necks. I didn’t get that far when I examined myself in the mirror, but I imagine I bear the same red punctures.
“Yeah,” Anna says, trying to laugh it off. “Although the real freak-out came when I reciprocated.”
She gives a huge, teeth-baring smile. Her fangs are proof positive of what she’s done. Emily and I mirror her smile, all of us coming clean.
“They licked your wounds from the roach acid?” I ask.
“First thing,” Anna says. “Healed me immediately. Then I needed blood and sex worse than an addict needs heroin.”
“Mine was like that, too,” Emily adds. “Ran’Kin had no idea. None of them did.”
“They’re good guys,” I concede.
My friends agree.
I’m growing distracted. If I don’t touch A’Dar or smell him within the next few seconds, I’ll die. Unable to control my compulsion for even a minute more, I finally give in to the urge, cross the room, sniff his collarbone, and then return to my friends.
I’m still capable of blushing, I imagine my cheeks are pink.
“I swear,” I tell them, “I’ve never been the clingy type before.”
Before the sentence is out of my mouth, freckled Emily walks to her guy, Ran’Kin, leans in to take a deep breath of his scent, then rejoins us.
“It gets better if you just fuck ‘em a few more times,” Anna says as if that wasn’t the most TMI statement ever uttered.
When Emily and I don’t hide our shocked looks, she says, “What? You mean you haven’t had sex with them yet? I couldn’t stop myself.”
Although I’m trying not to look scandalized, I must not be doing a very good job.
“Don’t look at me that way,” she says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been dying to do it.”
Emily and my mouths snap shut. Neither of us can say we haven’t been tempted.
“As I was saying,” Anna continues, the image of innocence, “the desperate need to touch them will slow down once you do it a couple times. Although, my urge is getting stronger even as we speak. If your guys are anything like Mel’Kan,” she eases toward the males, then says over her shoulder, “it won’t exactly be torture.”
When Emily and my faces express our shock, she says, “Okay, don’t do it because it will feel good. Just lie back and think of England, or the Queen, or whatever that saying is. When we’re running for our lives in a few minutes, you’re going to be glad you don’t have to pause the action to get it on.”
“Shit!” Emily and I say at the same time. She’s right. Our desperate need to touch and be touched could seriously impede our ability to stay alive.