Chapter 13 Jean
Just before I woke up, I was having the most wonderful dream.
It was about Keith. That’s my fiancé’s name—my ex-fiancé—but in the dream we were still engaged, and we were cuddling together in bed on a lazy Sunday morning.
The kind of cuddling that leads to other, more energetic activities.
Keith’s arm was draped over my body, and his warm breath was softly stirring my hair from behind.
I could feel his morning wood pressing against my butt. It felt… nice.
In the dream, Keith’s arm and his wood were both a bit bigger than the real things. A lot bigger, actually.
I wasn’t complaining.
Unfortunately, like most dreams of that sort, it ended before it had a chance to get really good. I woke up, and my pleasant slumber was immediately replaced by a series of progressively less pleasant reminders.
Like the fact that Keith left me for a younger woman, for starters. Okay, technically I left him, but the younger woman was the reason.
Then there’s the fact that I’m alone and stranded on an alien planet, sheltering inside the carcass of a giant bug.
That’s a slightly bigger problem.
At least I had a good nap. I haven’t felt this well-rested in a while.
My little “self-care” session might have had something to do with that, and I can vaguely remember waking up two or three times to do the deed again.
Each time, that strange purring sensation was what got me through.
Then it eased me back to sleep again. I don’t know if that’s a side effect of the Znthian drugs.
Maybe it’s a withdrawal symptom? Or maybe it’s just my body’s way of coping with the horrible situation I’m in.
Whatever it is, I hope it makes an appearance the next time my urges strike.
God… I wonder how long I was napping.
That thought wakes me up a little more, and I start paying closer attention to my surroundings. The inside of the bug is still dark, but not quite as dark as it was before. There’s a thin gray light coming in through the neck-hole, and it sounds like the storm has stopped blowing outside.
I guess I’d better go out there and have a look around, figure out how much farther I have to walk before I reach the ship—and figure out how the hell I’m going to find Mel again. With a little luck, she’s already waiting for me at the crash site.
Then again, probably not.
Most likely, she’s staying put wherever her escape pod touched down. That’s what I would have done if mine hadn’t landed in the middle of a damn tar pit.
The universe really has it out for me, doesn’t it?
Still, I can’t hang around inside this stupid bug forever. I’ve got to get up, move around, come up with a course of action.
There’s just one little problem…
As soon as I try to move, I realize I can’t. Keith’s arm is still draped over my body, holding me in place, and his boner is still pressing against my butt. Both pieces of anatomy are just as big as they were in my dream.
Far too big to be Keith’s.
I scream.
As soon as I do that, the arm loosens its grip. Not that it was holding me very tightly to begin with. More of a relaxed drape, really. At the sound of my voice, it lifts just enough for me to scramble out from under it.
I should probably run for the exit, but my panic sends me toward the wall instead. At least I have the presence of mind to remember the small gun in my survival pack. In two seconds flat, the pack is open and the weapon is in my hands. I point the business end at the intruder.
That’s when I actually see him for the first time.
The first thing I notice is the skin, which is a deeply saturated blue.
Then I notice the muscles underneath, hard and athletic.
Without meaning to, I let my eyes drop to the alien’s lower body.
He’s wearing a pair of leather pants—tight ones—and I can clearly see the shape of his anatomy bulging beneath the material, big and hard.
Oh, dear God…
A second later, the purring starts—the same purring I heard before I fell asleep—and it has the same effect on me now as it did then. The tension melts from my muscles. My eyelids grow heavy. So do my arms. For a moment, I actually consider lowering my gun.
Then I remember everything else that happened the last time I heard that purring, and the pieces start coming together in my brain.
I tighten my grip on the gun and point it right at the alien’s face.
To call that face handsome would be an understatement. The features are sculptural and almost feminine in their beauty. The eyes are wide set, paler blue than the skin, and utterly devoid of fear. The smile below them has fangs. Sharp ones.
“What the fuck are you?” I whisper.
The words come out a bit flat thanks to the breathing mask I’m still wearing, but apparently my voice is not muted completely. Tapered blue ears twitch forward at the sound.
“My species is Hassaith,” the alien says, pressing five long fingers against his bare chest. “And my name is Scythro. What about you, little female? Who and what are you?”
Actually, he doesn’t say that. Not exactly. His low, rumbling voice is speaking a language I cannot understand, but the words are rendered into perfect English by tiny speakers built into my breathing mask.
A translator device.
Apparently it works both ways, because the blue guy obviously understood my question. Or maybe that was just a lucky guess. I decide to test it by answering his question.
“My name’s Jean,” I say. “I’m a human.”
This time I notice my own voice being translated into alien words by additional speakers on the outside of the mask.
I guess that’s been happening ever since I first put it on in the escape pod.
I didn’t notice it before, probably because I was too busy trying not to become a fossil at the bottom of a tar pit.
“Jean…” the alien says, letting my name roll off his tongue like he’s tasting a fine wine. His voice is deep and masculine, a contrast to his strangely androgynous features. My pulse quickens in response. I feel it throbbing at the tips of my breasts and down between my legs.
I’m suddenly aware of my own nakedness. Aside from the breathing mask, I have nothing on. Nothing at all.
And the blue guy isn’t shy about looking.
His eyes are wandering all over my exposed body, and I can feel his gaze sliding over my skin like a physical touch.
I briefly consider putting on my concubine outfit, but I instantly cancel that idea.
Dressing would require me to stop aiming the gun at the intruder, and that’s the last thing I want to do right now.
Besides, it’s not like that outfit would give me much coverage anyway.
I try a different tactic and jab the gun at his face.
“Eyes up here,” I snap, trying my best to sound tough.
He lifts his eyes, but he takes his time about it, almost like he’s testing my resolve.
Then his gaze locks with mine, and I almost wish it was back on my body again.
His eyes are so intense, they seem to drill right into the deepest part of me.
His hair is long and partially braided on one side.
It spills around his shoulders in dark waves. His lips are lush and full.
I feel my pulse ticking faster, and I desperately want to look away, but I’m worried that might be perceived as a sign of weakness. Then something moves in the shadows behind the alien, giving me an excuse. For a second, I think it’s some kind of dark-blue snake. Then I realize what it actually is.
His tail.
Oh God, he has a freaking tail?
Before that detail has a chance to fully sink in, the purring starts again, softer this time, but also more targeted. I don’t hear it so much as I feel it rumbling deep inside the cores of my bones. This time I’m halfway ready for it, so the effects are diminished, though not entirely nonexistent.
“Stop that,” I hiss.
The purring stops.
“That was you,” I whisper.
“Who else would it have been?” He nods toward the skeleton by the wall. “It certainly wasn’t him,” then Gerber, “or him.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say, hoping the translator device evens out the tremors in my voice. “I’m talking about before, when I was…”
I let my words trail off, unwilling to say what I was doing the first time I heard the purring.
“When you were in distress,” Scythro finishes for me.
That’s a charitable way of putting it.
I think about how my so-called distress finally came to an end. The sensations I thought were hallucinations at the time. The fingers on my body, inside my body. The lips, the tongue.
The orgasms.
“You touched me,” I whisper, my voice almost breaking.
“I helped you.”
“You touched me without my consent.”
“I did not wish to startle you, Jean. Based on the way you’re reacting now, I believe that was a wise decision. As for the touching… I was not going to let you suffer all night long.”
My finger twitches on the trigger. For a few seconds, I consider shooting the bastard right between his gorgeous eyes. I was vulnerable, and he took advantage of me. He touched me in places and ways a man should never touch a woman unless he has her permission.
But then, he could have done so much more if he’d really wanted to. And the hard bulge at the front of his pants suggests that he did want to, and still does.
Then something else he said hits me. The last sentence.
I was not going to let you suffer all night long.
“Night?” I gasp.
“It was late afternoon when I found you,” the alien explains calmly. “It is morning now.”
That information hits me like a punch. God, how many hours have I been sleeping? I’m supposed to be looking for help. I’m supposed to be looking for Mel. I’m supposed to be finding a way off this horrible planet.
“I have to go,” I blurt, hating the panic in my voice. “I have to find my ship.”
“Perhaps I can help you,” he says. “I saw the smoke from the crash. What manner of ship was it exactly?”
I hesitate, uncertain whether I should divulge that information. If I tell him I’m a concubine, he might help me in the hopes of receiving a fat reward. Or maybe he’ll kill me so I can’t tell my husband-to-be what he did to me.
“It was a research ship,” I lie.
The alien glances at the damaged cherub propped against the wall beside me. Then he glances at the whisper-thin outfit lying at my feet.
“A research ship?” he says doubtfully.
“Listen,” I tell him, weighing my words carefully. “If you help me get back to my ship, there would be money in it for you. Lots of money.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s true. I’m also not sure I even want this guy’s help, but what other choice do I have? He probably knows his way around this place better than I do, and the last thing I want is to spend another day inside this dead bug.
Or another night.
The alien settles back against the wall of the shelter, resting one long, blue arm atop a folded knee. His eyes grow distant with thought.
“Listen. Your ship crashed, right? I saw the smoke yesterday. It would be unwise to go to that place. The crash site will be crawling with inmates by now.”
My heart skips.
“Inmates?”
The alien gives me a look of genuine pity. “Oh dear,” he says. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“You’re on Ul, darling. The whole planet is a penal colony.”