Part Five
GEORGIE
Holy crap, it’s a spaceship.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
Well, actually, I do. I was so tired after our journey that my brain was a fog. The need to help save the others constantly burned in the back of my mind. Vektal seemed to have a sense of urgency, too; he crossed over valleys and climbed up sheer walls with me clinging to him, more agile than a mountain goat. I held on for dear life, but it was still exhausting. The cold hadn’t let up, and the wind felt as if it had chapped my face into one big cold burn. But I still had it better than the other humans, so I didn’t complain.
By the time we finally stopped for the night, I’d barely glanced at my surroundings. Yes, the cave was perfectly made inside. Yes, it was in the side of a hill that also seemed perfectly oval-shaped outside. I’d noted it and stumbled inside, heading for the warm furs that I now knew waited within.
It wasn’t until after sex, as I relaxed and cuddled against my alien, that I saw a light flash. I’d thought my eyes had deceived me until it did it again. Then I stared at the ice really hard.
And realized that the cave was perfect because it was the interior of a ship.
“It’s a ship,” I tell Vektal. Behind the thick layer of ice, I can barely make out a control panel of some kind.
His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. “Es sa-khui tokh.”
That doesn’t sound like spaceship to me. Right. My big blue barbarian probably wouldn’t know a spaceship if it bit him on his big ridge-covered nose. He wears leather, eats raw meat, and hunts with slings and bone knives. Big guy’s probably never heard of a space heater, much less a spaceship.
I pat his chest. “You know what? I got this. Don’t worry.” I take the blade of the knife I carry with me and use it to hack at the thick ice coating the walls.
Vektal stops me with a gentle hand. He points at the firewood pile in the fire pit, still unlit. Oh. Fire will melt things faster. He’s right. I reach up and give him a quick, smacking kiss. “Clever man.”
He doesn’t know what I’m saying, but he’s pleased by the kiss anyhow.
As I wait for the fire to start, I stare at the walls around us. I’m trying not to freak out. The ice covering the walls is thick. Vektal’s familiar with this place, and it’s set up like a camp as the other caves are, which tells me that this has been here a long time. It looks nothing like the cargo hold the other girls are currently camping out in. The odds of it belonging to the same aliens are slim, I tell myself.
I still worry, though. That’s why I have to see that control panel for myself. I have to know what it is we’ve found.
It’s either a frying pan about to go into the fire . . . or a ticket home.
Or neither.
I need answers. No matter how tired I am, I won’t be able to sleep without answering some of these questions.
When the fire is stoked and burning brightly, Vektal takes up a lit stick of wood and hands me the safe end. It’s like a crappy makeshift torch, and I carry it carefully to the wall and then hold it near the panels, watching the ice glimmer and then melt. It takes a long time to thaw away the layers of ice, but as I do, more and more instrument panels become uncovered. I look over at Vektal, and he seems unnerved by this discovery as well.
It looks different than the sleek, bare walls of the alien ship I crashed in. Granted, I didn’t see much outside of what I assumed was the cargo hold, but this has an entirely different feel to it. The panel I’ve uncovered is upraised with hundreds of buttons, and the blips of light flick regularly. It reminds me of when I’ve set electronic devices on standby in the past, and I wonder if that means everything is functional.
I wonder if this means we can go home.
I steal a look at Vektal. His brutishly handsome features are pulled down into a frown, as if he’s not entirely sure what to make of this. He’s been wonderful to me. And the sex? Okay, the sex is mind blowing. But this place sucks. It’s cold and horrible, and I don’t know if I want to stay here when there’s a ride home.
Ifthere’s a ride home, I remind myself. If.
I return my sputtering torch to the fire and examine the panels again. I see a lot of buttons and one blinking light but no screens. Am I wrong in hoping this works? I lean forward and examine the now-uncovered panel. The blinking light is actually a button with a strange squiggly character on it. I move forward to press it, then pause.
Is it dumb to press a strange button on an even stranger spaceship?
Yes, yes it is.
Do I have many options? I contemplate all the different things this button could be. It could be a distress signal. It could arm a security system. It could be nothing at all. Do I want to chance it?
I look at Vektal again.
Actually . . . I don’t want to chance it, I realize. I’d be just as happy turning around and going out of here with him. I know I’m safe with him. I might even be able to be happy with him. But the other women don’t have the same option as I do. They don’t have a big, wonderful alien treating them like gold and catering to their every need.
So I suck in a deep breath and punch the flashing button.
It clicks.
Nothing happens.
Well that’s . . . disappointing.
Then a slow whine starts, like the hum of something coming online. A smooth, androgynous voice says something in a fluid language that’s unlike mine. Lights appear and begin to flash. There’s a noise and then a hiss like central air was just turned on.
Vektal grabs me and hauls my body behind him, pulling out one of his blades to protect me.
I’m chicken enough to hide behind his back for a long moment. Then I pat his arm again and push forward. “It’s okay,” I say. “I think stuff is just . . . uh, booting up.” I approach the panel.
As I do, the voice speaks again. This time it raises its voice at the end, almost like a question.
It’s . . . asking us something? “I don’t understand you,” I say aloud.
There’s another whirling, chirring sound. A picture of Earth appears in midair, three-dimensional. “Query,” the voice says. “Language: Earth English. Is this correct?”
I gasp. “Yes! Yes, that’s correct! You know English?”
“This ship’s artificial intelligence is programmed with over twenty-thousand common languages. Do you wish to change language selections? If so, say—”
“No,” I say quickly. “Stay on English!” I point at the picture of Earth, spinning in midair. “That’s my planet!”
“Settings accepted. Please wait for system to come fully online before requesting a query.”
“I . . . all right.” I look at Vektal with wide eyes. He seems equally as astonished as me. He puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close, prepared for a just-in-case sort of scenario. It’s strangely comforting.
The computer hums for a moment longer, and then I feel a gust of warm air brush my face. “Environmental controls online. Ideal habitat temperature for humans is 22 degrees Celsius or 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Ideal habitat temperature for modified sakh is 3 degrees Celsius or 37 degrees Fahrenheit. Which shall I program?”
“Modified sakh?” I ask.
“The male at your side is a sakh lifeform, modified for habitation on this planet.”
Oh. “Is he not from this planet?” Is Vektal a stranger here, too?
“Sakh originate from a planet that they call Kes, or home in their language. It is approximately 3.2 million parsecs from your planet Earth. This planet is 5.8 million parsecs from your planet Earth.”
That sounds . . . far. I feel faint. I have so many questions. I don’t know what to ask first. “I . . . what is this place?”
“This planet has many names depending on the language. Your species has not discovered this solar system yet. Our current location is the second planet in this binary sun system. This particular world completes an orbit around the suns every 372.5 days and rotates on its axis every 27.2 hours. The current temperature is—”
“Cold. Yeah. I know.” I wave a hand because none of this information is helping me out any. “So if he’s not from here,” I say, pointing at Vektal. “How did he get here?”
“This vessel was originally a sakh pleasure cruiser,” the ship continues in a melodious voice. “Due to a solar storm, the crew was forced to shelter at the nearest habitable planet, which you are currently on. They experienced technical difficulties.”
“Technical difficulties?” It sounds so absurd. “Really?”
“This ship is keyed to a specific pilot. The pilot experienced congestive heart failure, and a secondary was unavailable to pilot the ship. A distress signal was launched but malfunctioned. No further signals were sent.”
So Vektal’s people are stranded here too? “When was this?” I ask, feeling a little faint at this new tidbit of information.
“This event occurred 287 years ago. Please note that when this system references ‘years’, it is calculated based upon the orbit of this planet versus the planet Earth.”
And the years are longer here. Jesus. I look at Vektal with wide eyes. He’s looking at me curiously, impatience stamped on his features. I know he has questions, and my conversation with the computer is probably just giving him more of them.
But I still have more questions, so I’m selfish for a little longer. “How many of his people crashed here?”
“Log books record sixty-two passengers and one pilot. Many also died before accepting the symbiont.”
That catches my attention. “Symbiont?”
“The definition for ‘symbiont’ is an organism that lives in symbiosis with another organism.”
I’m starting to get creeped out. “Wait . . . Vektal has an . . . organism in him?”
“This planet has an element in its atmosphere that is toxic to human kind and also to sakh. It is a gas element similar to nitrogen that has not yet been discovered by humans as it does not exist in any form on Earth. Your body is not equipped to filter it out of the air. Once you reach toxic levels of the element, your body will slowly shut down. The sakh at your side exists in mutualistic symbiosis with a creature they refer to as a khui.”
“Khui,” Vektal says, suddenly speaking up. He asks the computer a question, and it immediately answers him. Then he nods and looks at me.
“I told him I am explaining to you how the khui functions in the atmosphere,” the computer tells me.
I rub my forehead. “I’m not understanding. So you have to have this khui thing inside you or . . . you die?”
“The khui enhances the body of its host and makes subtle changes in order to allow it to thrive in an otherwise hostile environment. Those who originally found themselves stranded on this planet lasted eight days without the symbiotic relationship.”
Eight days? All I have is eight freaking days? “M-modifies it?” I ask weakly. I feel sick. I either get a . . . parasite or I die?
“The khui modifies its host. Genetically modified khui-symbionts are altered to perform at lower temperatures and to filter the chemicals from the air that the body cannot process. It improves the host’s recovery from wounds and sickness, and it ensures procreation of viable offspring.”
Oh, God. So I get a cold-resistant tapeworm, or I get to die. “What if I get this khui thing for now and when I leave, have it removed? Can I do that?”
“Once implanted, the khui and host are dependent upon each other. The khui cannot exist outside of its host for longer than a few minutes, and the host will need a replacement khui in order to survive.”
And here I thought staying on Not-Hoth with my sexy barbarian was the better option than waiting for the little green men to come back. If I choose to stay here, I can’t ever leave again. It’ll just be me and my parasite . . . forever.
Ugh.
But if I don’t get the parasite, I only have days left to live. Not even a week, now. The green men must know that we humans can’t survive on this planet for long. That means that either they aren’t intending to pick us up again . . . or they’re going to be returning very, very shortly. I suck in a breath at that.
The odds are not looking good. I have to get the others out of there, and fast.
I want to ask the computer more questions, but the welfare of the others takes priority. One step at a time—we have to rescue the other women, and then we’ll figure out the khui thing. I turn to Vektal. “We need to talk.”
He touches my face, glowing blue eyes tender. “Sa-akh mevolo.”
“Shit. You’re not understanding me.” I turn to the computer. “Can you translate for me?”
“That is one of the functions of this unit,” it says in an amicable tone. “Would you like to learn the sakh dialect he is speaking?”
“You . . . you can teach me?”
“I can perform a one-time linguistic upload. Would you like to do this?”
“God, yes.” I want to be able to hold a real, honest-to-goodness conversation with Vektal. “Please.”
A small red circle appears in midair. “Please step closer to the marked location.” When I do, it gives me additional instructions. “I will perform a retinal scan. When I do, please do not blink or attempt to move. This can interfere with the transfer of information. It will be connected in three . . . two . . . one . . .”
A low hum starts. I freeze in place, trying not to blink as a red laser shines into my eyes.
“You may experience some discomfort as your brain processes the information,” the computer tells me, just before a rush of symbols crashes through my brain and my head feels like it explodes.
VEKTAL
My mate collapses, and my khui slams against my chest in protest. I grab her before she can sink to the ground. “Georgie!”
“Please allow several minutes for recovery,” the strange voice coming from the walls intones.
I snarl at it, at the air. I don’t know where this faceless voice is coming from, but if it’s hurt my Georgie, I will tear this place down to its strange-looking rocks and scatter the pieces to the icy seas. I cradle my mate against my chest, unable to breathe out of fear. I place a hand over her heart, where she has no protective plating. She’s too soft and vulnerable, my poor human.
But it thumps steadily in her breast, and I exhale in relief. I press my lips to her strange, smooth forehead and hold her against me as the room becomes uncomfortably warm.
The disembodied voice speaks again. “Standby. Please indicate if you have questions for this unit. Otherwise, I will return to hibernation mode.”
I hold Georgie against me, stroking her hair, her face, her cool skin that cannot retain enough warmth for her to be comfortable. I ignore the strange voice, even though it’s now speaking my language. When Georgie jabbered at it in her tongue, it sent a red beam through her head and knocked her unconscious. I do not want it to do the same to me, so I narrow my eyes at the flashing lights and wait.
Georgie’s sleeping face turns to my chest and she nuzzles me. “Mmm.”
“Georgie?” I ask, touching her cheek. “Are you well?”
Her eyes blink open, and the pale, ugly white with a weak blue circle in the middle is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Oh. I hear you,” she says in my language. “Your words. They’re . . .” she thinks for a minute, and then a smile breaks across her face. “Wondrous.”
“How did you learn my language?” I ask her, shocked.
She tilts her head, her nose scrunching adorably for a moment. It’s as if she’s considering something. Then she smiles again. “The words are a bit different than the ones in my head. Maybe it’s the die-ha-lekt that the kom-pu-tohr has.” Some of her words aren’t mine. They make no sense.
“Kom-pu-tohr?” I ask.
Georgie gestures at the air. “The voice. The ship. It taught me.”
“Magic?” I ask dubiously. The only magic I know of is khui-magic, and it does not teach languages.
She giggles, the sound bright and glorious. Then her eyes grow a bit dull again, and she rubs her forehead. “Not magic,” she says. “Learning. I probably do not explain it right.” Her eyes close again, and she curls against my chest. “My head hurts. Will you hold me for a bit longer?”
“Always,” I tell her and cradle her close. My khui throbs in my chest, and for the moment, I am content. Full of questions and wonder, but content.
???
“Eat,” I urge my mate, offering her my rations.
Georgie makes a gagging noise and shakes her head. “That stuff burns my tongue. Even now, it’s making my eyes water.”
I peer at her small face, and she’s right; her pale eyes are weeping and glossy. Curious, I sniff the travel rations. They have a slightly spicy taste to them, but it’s meant to be pleasant, not choking. “Humans have weak tongues.”
“Gah!” She gives me an exasperated look. “We do not.”
“Weak tongues, weak eyes, weak bodies,” I murmur, enjoying the look of irritation on Georgie’s face. It’s such a pleasure to be able to speak to her—really speak to her—and to tease her. “Weak in many, many places . . . but a delicious cunt.”
Her face goes bright red, and she bats my arm with her good hand. A hint of a smile curves her mouth. “You are always thinking about sex, aren’t you?”
“It is difficult not to when my mate is so soft and beautiful.” I brush a finger down the curve of her cheek.
She looks sober at my words. “Vektal . . . I’m not your mate.”
“Yes, you are. My khui has chosen you. When you receive a khui, it will thrum for mine. Wait and see.”
She shakes her head. “Humans choose their mates. I haven’t chosen anyone. Not that you aren’t nice,” she tells me, giving me another soothing pat to the arm. “And not that I don’t care about you. It’s just that . . . mating should be a mutual decision.”
A mutual decision? Is she mad? Are humans mad? “It is not a decision. The khui chooses. It always knows.”
“But I don’t have a khui.”
“We will remedy this soon enough,” I tell her. “Once we return to my tribe, we will organize a hunt to take down one of the great sa-kohtsk. They carry many khui in them. We shall provide enough for you and your tribeswomen.”
“Vektal,” she says, her face unhappy. “You’re not listening to me. I . . . I don’t even know that I want a khui.”
My heart turns to ice at her words. “You must. It is a death sentence—”
“Only if I stay,” she says softly. “I’m not sure. If there’s a chance I can go home . . .” Georgie drops her gaze and looks away. “I just haven’t decided yet, all right?”
“And where is your home, if it is not here?” My heart starts to pound a slow, unhappy beat. Georgie talks of leaving me as if she does not feel as I do. As if her heart is not torn apart at the very thought of being separated. My khui brought us together, but I am proud to have her as my mate. I want no other. Not now, not ever. It is unthinkable.
She lifts a hand, points at the cave ceiling. “In the sky. A really, really long way away from here.”
My eyes narrow at her. I do not understand.
“Like in this ship,” she continues. “Your ancestors came here in this thing from another place.”
“This is the cave my ancestors came from,” I agree slowly. “But it does not fly.” I imagine a flying cave, moving through the skies like a bird. The thought is ludicrous.
Georgie makes a frustrated sound. “It’s a ship. Do you know what a ship is?” When I remain blank, she drums her fingers on her lip, thinking. “It’s a craft that floats through the stars, Vektal. You know I’m not from here, right? I don’t have a khui. So I can’t be.”
I nod because I know this to be true. But the thought of her coming from . . . the stars . . . is strange and bizarre. Unfathomable. But there are things I cannot answer. Her strange language. Her clothing. Her lack of khui. “You . . . wish to go back to the stars?”
Her expression softens into something sad. Her pale eyes gleam for a moment, wet with unshed tears. “I don’t know. I think I hate not having a choice more than anything.”
So it is not me she hates. My khui begins to thrum in my breast again. I press a hand to it. “Then I will go with you.”
Her tears vanish, and she gives a soft chuckle. Then she moves close and squeezes my arm with her good one. She lays her cheek on it and sighs. “I wish that you could.”
I trace my fingers down her soft cheek. Does she not realize? Anywhere she goes, I will gladly follow. She is my heart, my resonance, my soul. My mate. It grieves me she is so miserable here, with me.
“Even if I wanted to stay,” she says softly, “I cannot make that decision for the others. If there’s a chance we can go home, I have to let them decide that for themselves.”
My mate is noble. I grunt my understanding, though the animal side of me wants to drag her back to a hunting cave and keep her there, naked and pink, until it is out of the question.
But then my Georgie might die, because she has no khui. And the other girls will certainly die with no rescue. And all of my tribesmen who have no mates—Dagesh and Raahosh and Haeden and so many others—will never know this pleasure. Like Georgie, I cannot be cruel.
“We must go and rescue your friends,” I tell her. “If we travel swiftly, we will make it to my tribal caves tonight. We can collect the best hunters and return after them in the morning.”
“Let’s do it, then,” she says, determination steeling her voice. “Every moment that passes is another moment I feel guilty.”
“Guilty?” I ask her, cupping her small face up so she can look me in the eye. “Why guilty?” Why does my mate carry such burdens?
Her cheeks pink again. “Because I’m here with you, and I’m warm and happy and fed, and they’re not.”
Ah. My thumb strokes over her full mouth. “And because my cock makes you cry out with such pleasure?”
The pink deepens, and she ducks her head. “Ohjeez,” she says in her language. Then in mine, “Let us keep such talk between us.”
I am amused. Is my mate shy? Is this what the pink of her cheeks means? A sa-khui woman gets a flush at the base of her horns when she is embarrassed, but Georgie has no horns. “It is but talk between mates, my resonance.”
She tilts her head. “Resonance? What is that?”
I take her small hand, her good one, and press it over my chest. My khui responds, thrumming a content beat inside my chest. “It is this. Only you call to it. Only you make my khui hum in my breast with happiness. It is a sign that one’s mate has been found.”
Her lips part, and she looks up at me, startled. “I thought you were purring.”
“Prr-ing?” I am not familiar with this word.
“Like a cat.”
“Cat? A snow cat?” I think of the ugly creatures with whiskers and tufts of fur all over. I don’t recall them ever purring. They are tasty eating, though.
Georgie giggles. “You know what? Never mind. We should get going.”
She gets to her feet and straightens her clothing. We have eaten, and all is ready to go, except I find myself strangely reluctant to continue on. If I do, I am acknowledging that I might not get to keep my Georgie.
The thought staggers me with misery. I press my face to her stomach and hold her against me, seeking a measure of peace. To think that I might lose my sweet resonance so soon after finding her. I cannot bear it.
“Oh, Vektal,” she says softly. Her hands stroke over my horns, a tender caress. “I wish it was just me that I had to think for. Then this would be easier.”
“It is easy,” I tell her, pressing my face to her leather-covered body. Even through her coverings, I can smell her wonderful scent. I long to taste her again. “Accept the khui. Accept me.”
She’s silent, but her hands continue to touch me and smooth over my skin and stroke over my horns in what feels like a loving embrace. She must care something for me. She must. But she only says, “Something has to be my choice,” she says softly. “So many things have been taken from me. I need to claim something for myself. For now. Grant me that.”
I look up at her, at her sad face. “You know I can refuse you nothing.”
Her smile is sweet. Sad. “I know.”
GEORGIE
I ponder my choices all day as Vektal plods relentlessly through snow drift after snow drift, carrying me on his back.
Even though I am doing my best to deny it, it’s entirely possible that we’re never going to be able to get home. If Vektal’s ancestors were stranded here, then we probably can’t get home, no matter how hard we try. Our other option is to wait for the little green men to come back and try to hijack their ship and force them to take us home.
Or we can leave the ice planet when they return, taking our chances as cattle.
Or we can get the parasite—excuse me, symbiont—and make the best of things here with Vektal and his people.
I feel like if I were making an individual choice, it would probably be an easy one. Though the thought of leaving Earth and friends and family behind hurts me, a life with Vektal could be sweet and full of pleasure. I already am starting to look forward to the sight of his smiles, the feel of his skin against my own. I love the rumble of his laugh.
I love knowing what he’s saying now.
If it were just me? I’d definitely be Team Vektal.
But I feel like the humans have to make a decision together. I don’t want to influence the others. I lucked out and got Vektal, but if we stay here, we might be condemning ourselves to a life of hardship and snow, and who’s to say that the others in Vektal’s tribe—the sa-khui, as he calls them—will treat everyone as wonderfully as he has me?
And who’s to say that the little green men wouldn’t sell us to someone on a nice Tahiti-like planet full of sexy men who want nothing more than company while drinking Mai Tai cocktails? No one can say for sure. The odds are likely against that . . . but it’s another reason not to influence the others. Whatever we decide, we’ll decide as a group. We’ll be making decisions not just for the six of us remaining but the six still tucked away in the wall, slumbering.
Before anyone decides anything, we need to talk it out.
If they want to stay, we’ll figure stuff out together. If they want to fight the aliens for control of the returning ship, we’ll need weapons and a plan.
My bad wrist aches and throbs, reminding me that we’re all battered and wounded from the crash. Taking over anything seems like a horrible idea. Maybe that’s just me being negative. I shake the thought away. I’m with my girls. If Liz, Megan, Tiffany, Kira, and Josie want to fight for our freedom, the least I can do is join the cause. Staying back and rolling in the furs with my big sexy alien seems disloyal after everything we’ve been through together.
“There,” Vektal says, rousing me out of my dark thoughts. “Home is just ahead.”
My arms tighten around his neck, and I peer through the drifting snowfall. There’s nothing ahead but another rocky cliff, this one barely peeking out of a deep thicket of the eyelash-like pink trees. “In there?”
“The entrance is hidden and guarded to prevent metlaks and other predators from entering. Do not worry. We will be safe and warm there.” He pats my arm. “No one would dare harm you.”
Am I tense? I must be tense for him to throw out a comment like that. It’s just that for so long, it’s only been Vektal to have to worry about. Now I’m about to be dropped in to meet thirty-odd others. My arms tighten around his neck. What if they all hate me? What if they all think I’m gross looking? What if—
“Ho,” a deep, sonorous voice calls out.
Vektal raises a hand high into the air in response. I cling to his back, worry thudding through my body as another big body appears in the distance.
“That is Raahosh,” Vektal tells me in a low voice. “He must be back from his hunting treks.”
The other male jogs through the snow toward us, churning a path through the drifts. The pink, flimsy trees wave overhead, and the entire scene looks ludicrous. I try not to stare at Raahosh as he approaches, but, well . . . I’m staring. Where Vektal’s horns are big and thick but sleek, Raahosh’s horn-crown is a busted mess. He has one that juts out and then arches back high above his head. The second is broken off, a mere jagged stump. As he gets closer I see scars covering one side of Raahosh’s broad face. His skin, er, pelt, er, whatever is a deeper gray than Vektal’s…like dark smoke. And if I thought Vektal was fearsome looking, Raahosh takes things to a new level.
He grins and raises a hand as he jogs out to meet us, and then his steps slow as he sees me. “I thought you were burdened with the hunt, brother. I was about to come and relieve you.”
“I have much to tell,” Vektal says, and I can hear the pride in his voice as he gently lowers me to the ground. His chest starts to vibrate with a loud, incessant purr.
Raahosh’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Vektal then at me. “Her?” He gazes at me up and down. “What . . . what is she?”
“She is Georgie, a human and my mate.” Vektal’s arm goes around my shoulders, and he tugs me against him. I can feel the purr moving through his body, so strong that he’s practically vibrating. Resonating, as he calls it.
Raahosh stares at me for so long that I feel uncomfortable. He considers my face, my hair—no doubt looking for horns—and then the rest of my smaller, shivering form. I’m wearing someone else’s jumper, and I haven’t had a comb in weeks, and I probably look like hell. This is the first time I’ve felt it, though. Vektal always makes me feel . . . pretty. Like I’m the sexiest thing to ever grace his presence and he can barely keep his hands off me. I’ve been taking for granted how wonderful it feels to be special to someone.
My hand goes to Vektal’s waist, and I slide it down his back until I encounter the bump of his tail base. I circle it and caress it absently.
At my side, Vektal stiffens and the thrumming takes on an even more urgent beat. He reaches back and gently removes my hand, then nuzzles my ear. “Wait until we are in private, my sweet resonance. I know you are not comfortable with public displays.”
Oops. Did I just give him the sa-khui equivalent of a public handy? A hot flush covers my cheeks, and I nod. I don’t look at Raahosh, though, because then I will be completely and utterly embarrassed.
“Hu-man?” Raahosh says after a moment, the word swallowed and thick in his throat. “Her eyes—”
“She has no khui,” Vektal says. His hand goes to my hair, and he combs through it with his big, thick fingers. I feel pretty once more. He still can’t stand to take his hands off me, and, okay, I kinda adore that. “We will fix that problem soon.”
I nudge Vektal with my elbow. “We’ll talk about it.”
“We will talk about it,” he amends.
I sneak a glance at Raahosh, and he’s still staring at me. But it’s not a look of disinterest or revulsion. Rather, I see a yearning as he looks at me. Not in a sexual way. Instead, it’s as if his best buddy just showed up with the Christmas present he’d been wishing on for years.
“You are lucky,” he says finally, his voice thick, “to have found your resonance.”
“The luckiest,” Vektal agrees, and his fingers stroke my neck. “But my mate needs the healer.”
I want to protest about the mate thing since I haven’t said yes yet, but my wrist gives a pathetic throb, and I realize how much it still hurts. “Healer sounds good,” I say faintly. “Food, too?”
“Food, yes,” Vektal says and nuzzles my brow. “And warm clothing. And you shall sleep in my furs tonight.”
I blush because I feel like that is an obvious way of saying ‘we’re totally doing it’ to his buddy, but Raahosh doesn’t blink an eye. “Come,” the new alien says and gestures for us to follow. “There will be many questions.”
“I am ready for them,” Vektal says.
“I’m not sure I am,” I chime in. The thought of being quizzed by dozens of staring aliens makes me feel exhausted, and we haven’t even entered the cave yet. “We’re still going after the others in the morning, right?”
“Others,” Raahosh says, and there is more than casual interest in his gaze.
“Georgie has arrived with five other humans,” Vektal says. “They are in need of rescue.”
“Five other humans?” Raahosh asks, his glowing blue eyes going wide. “Do you speak truly?”
“All female,” Vektal says in a low, almost reverent voice.
As I watch, Raahosh staggers. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
I’m starting to get worried, and I haven’t even told them about the six other women in the hibernation pods. “Is this a problem?” I ask. “Vektal, you said your people would help mine.”
“It is not a problem,” my alien says in a grave tone. He caresses my cheek. “It is a blessing. There are only four adult females in our tribe, and all of them are mated.”
“Do they resonate?” Raahosh asks in a harsh voice.
“They have no khui,” Vektal says. “But I resonated for Georgie. Others might resonate to a human female.”
I stop in my tracks. “Wait, what? This isn’t open season on human ladies! I thought we were getting rescued, not playing matchmaker.”
Raahosh simply stares at me like I’m insane. My words probably don’t make sense in their language. I don’t care. I’m trying to get help for my friends, not hook them up with alien boyfriends. I think back to Vektal’s ‘greeting’ of me in which he just grabbed me and initiated sex. Sure, I orgasmed a few times, but that didn’t give him the right to make the decision to mate me, nor did it give him the right to decide the others got mates without their say so.
“No one is being mated without their agreement,” I say, crossing my arms. Then I wince because I keep forgetting my one wrist is total shit.
“It is agreed, my Georgie,” Vektal says. He caresses my cheek again. “I am the chief. They will listen to me. Any male who wishes to mate a human woman must have her agreement.”
I relax a bit at that.
“Agreement?” Raahosh sputters. “But resonance—”
“Doesn’t happen for humans,” I say sweetly.
“It is something to be argued about later, when my mate is not cold and hungry,” Vektal says, breaking in before Raahosh protests at me again. He puts a protective arm over my shoulders. “We have traveled far, and we will be traveling far again in the morning.”
“Of course,” Raahosh says stiffly. He turns and heads back to the trees, and Vektal and I follow him in.
The trees thicken, and as we approach the cliff, I see the entrance to an extremely large cave. The mouth of it is enormous and wide, bigger than any human or sa-khui—even if I stood on Vektal’s shoulders and tried to touch the ceiling. It narrows down further in, and this is where Raahosh and Vektal lead me. I cringe at the thought of spending endless hours in a deep cavern. It doesn’t strike me as safe.
But as we make our way through the winding tunnel, the air gets warmer. Noticeably so. It feels like we’re going down, so shouldn’t it be getting colder? I’m puzzled by this until the cave opens up into a larger chamber and the faint smell of rotten eggs touches my nose.
And then I’m just stunned.
The hill the sa-khui live in is hollow. The cave opens up into an enormous cavern that reminds me of a gigantic hollow donut. It’s circular, and the center is composed entirely of a large, incredibly blue pool. Another heated spring, I realize with wonder. That is why it smells so strongly of eggs.
I pinch my nose and look around in surprise. There are people bathing in the pool, a tiny child with nubs for horns splashing in the water as a man holds it and a female laughs nearby. The cavern walls round upward, and the roof has a hole in it, almost like a sunroof. From here, I can see snow drifting in, but it melts in the presence of the warmer air and drips down harmlessly.
The edges of the cavern ‘donut’ are riddled with caves, most with ledges and walkways built from additional rock or woven reeds of some kind. A reed-like bridge spans one side of the donut’s ceiling over to the other. There are aliens everywhere, too. Some sit in the entrances of their cave-homes. Another pair weaves baskets in the distance. Off to one side, an alien with enormous, arching horns and pale skin scrapes a hide stretched over a frame.
“Vektal is back,” a voice calls out happily. Exclamations of joy and chatter erupt in the cave . . . and all heads turn toward us.
And then everyone’s staring at me.
It feels weird to be the center of so much attention. As more heads turn and people stand, others approach. And there are a lot of men. A lot of them. Some are dressed only in loincloths due to the warmth of the cave. All of them are muscular, tall, and good looking for sa-khui kind, I’m guessing. And they’re all staring super intently at me with a mixture of curiosity and longing.
“My mate,” Vektal says proudly. “A human.”
“Mother, why is its face so ugly?” A tiny voice asks. Voices raise to hush it.
Raahosh looks chagrined or choked. I can’t decide which one. Vektal growls low in his throat and takes a step forward, clearly insulted on my behalf.
I giggle. To think that these weird people think I’m ugly. They’re the ones with horns, tails, glowing eyes, and a downy suede over their bodies. They’re the ones with ridges all over their foreheads and noses and, um, other interesting body parts.
Vektal drags me against his chest in a possessive grip, and I suddenly find myself pressed against one rock-hard, vest-covered pectoral. “This is my mate. I resonate for her.” As if on cue, his chest starts to vibrate, the thick, steady purr jiggling my cheek. “She is beautiful to me. Different, but beautiful nevertheless.” He brushes his fingers through my hair. “I have seen her bravery, her spirit, and her will. She has trusted me when she has no reason to. She has given me her body when she has no khui to compel her. And it does not matter what any eyes think of her but mine . . . and to me, she is the most wonderful, most attractive, and most compelling of creatures.”
My eyes prick with emotion. Okay, for a barbarian, he’s pretty good at making a romantic speech. I’m totally giving him a handy for real when we get alone again.
“What is a huu-mehn,” someone else asks.
“Are there others?” says another voice.
“He says there are five,” Raahosh says in that low, rumbly voice of his. “All female.”
I wince at the awe and wonder that fills the voices in the cavern. Fuck a duck. These guys are going to think it’s straight-up mating season if this continues. Especially if there are only four adult women in their tribe. That is a lot of unfulfilled sexual need. And what’s going to happen when they find out there are six women in stasis in addition to the six who are awake? “Vektal,” I murmur uncomfortably. As the other aliens get more excited, I get more nervous.
All eyes turn on me at the sound of my voice.
Vektal tugs me tighter against him. “There will be time to answer questions later. My mate has survived an ordeal. She is hungry and tired and needs the healer. Where is Maylak?”
“Here,” says a sweet voice. A woman with curling horns and long, flowing dark hair steps forward. She holds a child to her breast, and her belly is rounded with another. Her glowing eyes watch me with fascination.
“Good,” Vektal says. “Come with Georgie and me to my cave.”
She nods and hands her child off to another man. “Let me get my healing basket.”
My alien takes my hand and pulls me along after him. The others follow, and I don’t blame them for staring. More whisper as I turn my back to them, and I hear comments about my missing tail. I glance around, just in time to see Raahosh sink into the shadows, a spear gripped in his arms. He watches me intently but not in a creepy way. If I had to place bets, I’d say that Raahosh is going to lobby hard for a human mate.
The thought makes me uncomfortable. It’s got to be hard in a tribe full of single, lonely men….no pun intended.
Vektal takes me through the labyrinth of caves to one of the back ones along the edge of the donut. There are a few feathers and what look like decorations on the outside of the door but nothing to mark it as a chief’s lodge. It looks just like any other cave to my eyes. Inside, though, it’s warm and cozy. Furs spill over a plush nest in the corner, and there is a shelf made out of rock that holds a few household implements. There’s a fire pit in the corner, not in use, and what looks like a reed net hanging on one wall. I give Vektal a curious look. “Fishing?”
He grins, the look boyish. “I wanted to see if we could catch one of the great fish in the salt lake.”
Salt lake? Are we near a sea? I have so many questions.
“This is my cave . . . and your home now, too, Georgie.” After a moment, he adds, “If you accept me as mate.” He sounds uncertain, unhappy, and I feel a twinge of sadness that my indecision is hurting him.
The pile of furs looks inviting, though, and I can’t help but move toward it. I sit on the edge and moan with pleasure as I sink backward. This is by far the nicest, snuggliest bed I’ve had since I got here. “I’m looking forward to curling up in this,” I tell him.
His eyes light up, and I hear the thrum in his chest start.
Oh. He’s taking that as a come on. I should correct him. Instead, I luxuriate in the furs a bit longer, thinking of his sweet words earlier about how beautiful and strong I am. I arch my back so my breasts jut out. His attention goes there, and I see the look in his strange, glowing eyes grow heated.
“Shall I enter?” says a female voice.
Vektal rubs a hand over his face. “Yes. Come, Maylak.” He moves to my side and presses a kiss to my hair. “I shall go and talk with my hunters. Maylak will take care of you.”
I want to pout, but my wrist hurts, and if Maylak’s got food, she’s my new favorite person. “All right. Don’t be too long?”
“Never,” he says fervently, and his fingers trace my jaw. “If you are asleep, I shall wake you up by mating your mouth.”
A scorching blush colors my cheeks. “It’s called a kiss, Vektal.” Saying it like that makes it utterly filthy. And I’m perverted enough to be completely aroused at the thought.
He simply gives me a roguish look, presses his mouth to mine, and then bounds out of his cave. I’m admiring my last glimpse of his tight ass in his leggings when Maylak steps through the entrance a moment later, parting the door hangings. She carries a large basket in her hands and smiles at me, flashing dainty fangs. “May I join you?”
I nod. I watch her as she glides into the room, all fluid steps, and note the difference between her and a male of Vektal’s tribe. Her horns are smaller and more delicate, though it seems horns are like noses for these people in that some are huge and some are just smaller and less twisty. It probably has more to do with heredity than testosterone. Her features are as strong and heavy as Vektal’s, but her eyes seem to be bigger and longer-lashed, and her mouth is full and pouty. Her breasts are small, and her entire body seems more wiry than soft, but she moves in an utterly sensuous way that makes me jealous. Her hair is long and gorgeous, rippling in a dark waterfall to her waist and tail.
She’s dressed curiously, too. Her leathers seem more intricate than Vektal’s, with interesting little designs worked into the soft hide that remind me of embroidery. The designs edge the artfully jagged hem of her neckline that crisscrosses over her broad shoulders and drapes loosely over her belly. It’s knotted high on one hip, revealing leggings covered with more of the woven embroidery dotted through the leather. Her feet are bare when she sits next to me, though, and I’m surprised. It’s warmer in the caves, granted, but it’s still chilly to me. But Vektal’s people seem to be wearing clothing as if it’s a summer’s day.
I’m rather envious of that. I’d like to be warm for a change.
In one fluid motion, Maylak sits in front of me, cross-legged. She sets her basket down on the cave floor next to the bed and places both of her hands, palms up, on her knees. “May I heal you?”
“Um . . . yes?” There’s no word in their language for ‘okay’.
She takes my bad hand gently in hers, pulls back the leathers, and then unwraps the bindings that Vektal put on it. My wrist is still bruised and swollen, and as the bandages are removed, it throbs with renewed pain. To my surprise, Maylak closes her eyes and cradles my wrist, as if waiting for something.
Er . . . okay. I wait, since it seems impolite to ask what the hell she’s doing.
After a long moment, she opens her eyes and frowns at me. “You have no khui. I thought perhaps Vektal was mistaken.”
“No,” I say with a faint smile. “He’s right. I don’t have a khui.” The word feels strange in my mouth.
She sets my wrist down gently. “Strange. I cannot do much for you, then. My khui is a special one,” she says, touching her breast and then extending her hand outward. “It can call upon your khui and encourage it to work stronger.”
“Ah.” Well, at least she isn’t offering to rub crystals or pack mud on me or something barbarian-like. “It’s all right, really.”
“I can re-wrap it for now,” she says, reaching into her basket. “Once you have taken on a khui, then I can heal it for you.”
I say nothing. I haven’t exactly decided that I want a planetary parasite, though the odds certainly aren’t looking in my favor at the moment. “Can I ask something?”
“Of course.” Her big, glowing eyes look up at me.
“Do you remember getting your khui?” Is that why all these people are so blasé about having a tapeworm?
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Our children are born helpless, with no khui. They are vulnerable until they have passed four days of age. Then, we hunt the great sa-kohtsk and transfer a khui to the child.”
“Why wait four days?”
“The child must be strong enough to accept the khui,” she says. “Otherwise it is death for both child and khui.” Her hands are gentle as she takes bone splints from her basket and works them into my leather wrappings, supporting my wrist.
“Does it hurt?”
She shrugs her graceful shoulders. “I do not know. I was very young when I accepted mine. It is very rare that a khui dies and a new one must be found for a sa-khui. It has not happened in my lifetime.”
This isn’t doing much to help my worry at the thought of taking in a freaking symbiont into my body. “Do you feel it moving? Do you know it’s there? Does it like . . . talk to you?”
“Talk?” Her eyes widen, and she laughs until she sees how very serious my face is. Then her laughter dies. “No, of course not. It does not speak. It is like having a heart or a lung or a stomach. You have a khui.” Again she shrugs her shoulders. “Some go their entire lives without feeling resonance. That is the only time the khui awakens. Then, it makes its presence known fiercely.”
“With the purring.”
“Prr—?”
“The sound,” I correct, then try to imitate it in my throat. “It makes you purr near your mate, right?”
“It is more than just that,” she says, tying down the last of the bindings around my wrist. Her hand goes to her breast. “One feels an intense surge of urgency when the khui comes to life. It is like . . . a rush of spirit.” It’s clear she’s struggling to describe it.
“Like adrenaline?” I guess, then add, “Like running down a hill really fast? Or during a hunt?”
She nods slowly. “More than that. It is . . . possessiveness, too. Your mate is yours, and those who wait to claim their mate find the feeling intensifies over time. It is difficult to describe. It is more than feeling. It is knowing.”
This worries me a little. I imagine Vektal and what he must be going through when he resonates with me. He hasn’t seemed all jacked up, though. Possessive, yes. But content. Maybe it’s different for different people.
“It is part of our lives,” she says gently. “The khui chooses the mate, and the khui is never wrong. It brings greater pleasure than any can imagine when one resonates against one’s mate.”
“And were you happy with the mate it chose for you?”
Her smile curves sweetly. “My Kashrem? No, at first I was quite angry. The khui does not always pick who we think we want in our furs. Kashrem is a tanner, not a hunter. I was young and drawn to one hunter in particular who I shared furs with.” Her long lashes flutter, and she turns to her basket and pulls out clothing. “I brought you these. Vektal says you are frequently cold, so I hope these shall help keep you warm.”
I’m sensing a conversation change. “Who did you share furs with before you, er, resonated?” I ask, wondering if it’s taboo to bring it up.
But her expression is guileless as she looks up at me. “Why, Vektal of course.”
I’m stunned at the stab of jealousy that shoots through me. This is my alien’s lover? My alien who lived a life of bachelorhood before resonating for me? I picture the scenario: Maylak and Vektal rolling around in bed. Him licking her like he does me. Then her getting up and running to another man just because she resonated for him.
Then my jealousy dies away, and I’m filled with sympathy for my Vektal. How that must have disappointed him. To have a lover when there were so few women must have seemed like a gift. Then to have her taken away—it must have been a very dark time for him. Maybe that’s why he’s so stinking happy to have me. I feel a surge of affection for the big guy.
Totally getting a handy tonight.
VEKTAL
The men have endless questions, as I knew they would. Will the women resonate for them? How many are there? What did they look like? Do they have mates of their own? Are the humans shaped like sa-khui women? “The differences are minor,” I tell them. “They have no tails, and their mouths are small, and they do not have fangs. They cannot eat meat fresh. They must cook it until it has no flavor.”
Someone makes a gagging noise.
“But . . . you resonated for her? She is small. Can she take you?” Salukh asks this, the biggest of our hunters. No doubt he’s picturing himself next to tiny Georgie and trying to fit himself into her. The thought makes me curiously angry. I know it is an innocent question—Salukh has never had a mate to share his furs. He keenly wants one.
I should share the information I have. Tell them that sliding into Georgie’s tight, wet cunt is like a dream. That she convulses and clenches around my cock when she’s feeling pleasure, just like our women. That her nipples are tipped with soft, textured skin and that they’re pink like her tongue. But it seems too intimate. As I look at Salukh’s avid gaze, though, I know he is hoping that one of the human females will make his khui resonate. Then he will be able to claim a mate and have a family, his greatest desire.
So I give them a few grudging facts. “She has fur in one other spot on her body. On her sex.” At the exclamations, I add, “And a third nipple.”
“Another nipple?” Raahosh asks, his voice curt. Disbelieving. “For young? Where?”
“Between her legs.”
He snorts, clearly finding this ridiculous. “She is deformed, and yet she will not accept the mating? She should be lucky to have you.”
His words infuriate me. I rise to my feet. “You speak out of bitterness, Raahosh,” I tell him. “You are jealous that I have resonated and your own khui remains silent after all this time. My mate is perfect in every way. It is not her fault that she comes from a place with different customs. In her land, they choose their mates.”
Someone mutters at this strangeness.
“Georgie will take a khui soon,” I tell them. She must. I cannot bear the thought of her declining it and leaving me to go back to her strange planet. The thought stabs me like a knife, and I fight back the agony it brings. “When she feels the khui within her resonate, she will know what it means to be mated. Until then, I court her with caresses and affection. Just because she does not resonate for me does not mean I shall treat her any differently.”
“Probably a good thing that she resonated for you then, Vektal, and not Raahosh. He’d have found her lacking,” Aehako teases.
Raahosh’s nostrils flare. He shoots me a cold look and then storms away from the gathering of men.
I rub my face wearily. I am glad to be home amongst my tribe, but my body aches for Georgie. I am eager to join her in bed. “I need hunters and supplies in the morning,” I tell them. “We go to rescue the other humans. Who will join me?”
Soon, I have a good group of hunters that have volunteered. It does not surprise me that they are all unmated males and young. The elder ones might be used to their solitude, but the others, like me, hunger for a mate. Young, brawny Salukh will go. Laughing Aehako. Quiet Pashov and his sibling Zennek. Hotheaded Rokan, who has a quick tongue but even quicker senses. Skilled Zolaya and grim, unsmiling Haeden, whose sad history serves as a lesson to others. I suspect that, come morning, Raahosh will show up and join us. He is an excellent hunter, for all his bitterness.
It is a good party. Maylak will want to go, but Kashrem worries that the trek is too far for her while carrying her kit. She will stay behind.
Once the hunters have been finalized, I give orders to find rations—blandly cooked and not spiced. Water skins for the human women. Warm foot coverings. Extra leathers. Blankets, as many as the men can carry. We will head straight from the humans’ strange cave-ship to a sa-kohtsk hunt. There we will get the women their khui.
Then, my Georgie will resonate for me. She will be safe, her life unthreatened by khui-sickness. Both she and our child will be protected from harm.
“Sleep,” I tell the hunters. “We will leave at dawn of the second sun.”
The men scatter, though I doubt any of them will be able to sleep. They will be dreaming of flat-faced human women with third nipples and welcoming bodies.
My own body hardens at the thought of Georgie, waiting in bed for me. I sprint to my cave, eager to see my mate again. Aehako calls out a jest, but I ignore it; I don’t care if I seem eager. Any unmated man would gladly trade his place for mine, and they know it.
The inside of my cave is dark and silent, no hearth-stones uncovered for soft light. I don’t need them; I know my small abode by heart. I move to the bed and hear Georgie’s soft breathing, and my khui thrums again. My heart swells with love and desire for this soft yet strong-willed human. She is already everything to me.
I brush my fingers over her soft mane, and she stirs. “Mmm, Vektal?”
“Go back to sleep,” I tell her, pulling off my leathers. “I will join you in bed.”
She sits up, and in the pale bit of light, I see her hair tousled on her head. “I thought you were going to wake me with a mouth-mating,” she says, and her voice is husky and full of promise.
I groan, my cock hard at her suggestion. “You are tired and must sleep, my resonance. We leave early in the morning.”
“Then we’ll have to be quick,” she says, and her hands go to my breeches. I dare not move as her hands undo the laces of my loincloth, and she tugs the leather free. My cock is met by open air and then a moment later is clasped in her small, warm hands. Impossibly, I grow even harder. “Mmm, I’ve been daydreaming about this all day,” she tells me in a delicious voice.
It seems too incredible to think about. “Have you?” My hands steal to her soft hair, unable to resist touching her. I stroke it off her brow as she wraps her hands around my cock and grips it tight. It doesn’t feel as good as burying myself deep into her cunt, but I’m fascinated and aroused by her motions.
“Yes,” she says, and when she speaks, her lips move over the aching crown of my cock. I suck in a breath, and my khui begins to vibrate—a hard, insistent pulse of need.
Then, I can scarcely believe it when she takes my cock into her mouth. I feel the head enclosed by a warm wetness, and I nearly spill my seed then. I groan, my entire body tensing in response. It feels like nothing I have ever experienced before. I’ve had women pleasure me with their mouths, but hers feels…different. Her soft sucking mouth with its smooth, slick tongue feels like dipping into her cunt. It is only through strength of will that I don’t push deep into her mouth. I don’t want to choke her.
She flicks her tongue over the head of my shaft, and I clench my fists against the need to pump into her. I’m too fascinated by what she’s doing. With little nibbling touches of her tongue and lips, she moves over my cock, down the shaft, and then licks her way back up again. Then she takes the head into her mouth and rolls her tongue against it. “You’re too big for me to take deep,” she murmurs, her voice sounding awed. “I can barely fit my fingers around you.”
“Is that . . . good?”
She chuckles, the sound throaty and sexual. “For me it is.” She swipes her tongue over the head of my cock again.
“Georgie,” I rasp. The blood in my body seems to be pooling in my cock. My khui pounds against my chest. “If I am not inside you in the next moment—”
“Wait,” she murmurs softly, and I hear her shift on the bedding. Then the scent of her arousal perfumes the air, and I hear the sound of wet flesh slicking. She moans. “Oh yeah, I’m wet.”
It’s too much. I groan again and push her back on the bed. I fumble at her clothing—it’s all different. Why is it different?—until I find her slick, inviting core. I drag my fingers over her sex, and she’s right, she’s wet and ready for me. I grip her hips, push my cock against her entrance, and then surge into her.
She squeals, and I feel her cunt grip me, hard. “Oh,” she moans. “Oh, Vektal. Again!”
My mate is loud, and others will hear her. I don’t care. I pull back and thrust into her again, my cock pushing deep, the spur above sliding through her wet folds.
She cries out again, and I feel her clench around me. “Imcomingllredee,” she breathes in her own language. “Gahdalmitee!” I pause, worried, and her good hand slams down on my arm. “Again,” she demands in my language. “Just like that!”
With a chuckle, I give my sweet, demanding mate what she wants. I pump into her, over and over, and my khui vibrates with intensity, so strong that I feel it in my jaw and in my cock. Georgie must feel it, too, because she’s squirming underneath me, making aroused noises and panting. Her hands claw at my shoulders, and she chants, “Again,” over and over. I do as she commands, thrusting over and over again until she cries out with her pleasure. Her cunt clenches around me hard, and then I finally spill into her, releasing so hard that stars dance before my eyes. I weave for a moment, and when Georgie tugs me down on the bed next to her, I gratefully follow.
Cock still buried inside her, I turn and cup her body against mine, her back pressed to my chest. She squirms a little at this position. “I feel you pressing into my . . . backside,” she says, struggling with the right word.
“My spur?” I ask, chuckling. I’m aroused by the thought of taking her from this way. It’s not done with my people. Not when we have tails that get in the way. “Is it uncomfortable?”
She squirms again. “It’s just . . . weird.”
I run a pleased hand over her still-flat belly. “We will have time to discover our likes and dislikes together, my Georgie. Do not worry.” Then my heart seems to still in my chest.
If she stays with me. If.
“Mm,” she says, her voice sleepy. Then she makes a huh noise in the dark. “Your khui stopped.”
“It silences for a time after a mating,” I tell her. “It will not go away even when the kit arrives.”
“Kit?” she asks, and I can hear the frown on her face. “What is this word? The mental picture I am getting with the word is a child.”
“That is correct,” I tell her and stroke my hand down her stomach again. “A kit is a child.”
“Why . . . how can I have your baby?” she asks, her body utterly still against me. “I’m an alien. Actually, you are, but for the argument, let us say it’s me.”
Have I not explained this to her? “That is how the khui chooses,” I tell her. “It determines offspring. A resonance mate is the only one who can bear children. Offspring only come through a khui-mating.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wait,” Georgie moans, and then she’s climbing out of bed. I feel a sense of loss as my body slides from hers. Already my cock longs to return to her wet warmth. But she’s making anguished sounds. “Waiiiiiiit. Vektal, be straight with me.”
“Straight,” I repeat, confused by her use of the word. “You wish me to form a line?”
“No! Tell me the truth!”
“I am telling you the truth,” I say, baffled.
“You . . . you vibrated—resonated—because your khui decided you could make me pregnant?” she asks, her voice raising in volume.
“Yes,” I say, not sure where this is heading. “A khui always responds to a fertile female.”
She moans again. “No. You can’t make me pregnant. I’m not due for my period . . . oh fuck,” she says in her own language. “Fuck! FUCK!! I’m never late! FUCK!!!”
“Fuhk?” I echo. “I do not know this word.”
Georgie descends back to the bed, only to smack a fist against my arm. “It means I’m late! It means you could have gotten me pregnant, you asshole!”
“Ass-hole?” I do not know this word either.
“Fuck!”is all she says.