Chapter Two
Belle did her best to pretend she was completely oblivious to any possible interest, tried to convince herself that it was her that, for reasons unknown, had just suddenly become hyper aware of them. Not that they were focused on her.
And, really, it defied all logic that they might be--first off because everyone was far busier than they typically were, aboard ship, because they’d had to shift into high gear to address minimum needs as soon as they began to settle on the new world.
Whereas the ship had been constructed with everything they needed to thrive and they had only had to maintain it throughout the voyage.
They didn’t have to work like fighting fire.
Their minimum requirements for survival were being met because they had temporary shelter and sufficient food supplies, and a security perimeter had been set up before they even arrived on planet by the security-construction bots they had brought with them.
They were busy, however, because they were still ‘roughing it’ compared to life aboard ship and everyone was anxious to achieve a higher level of comfort and security as quickly as they could.
That should have made it less possible for her to be spotted at all--not more likely.
However, there actually weren’t as many people on the ground as there had been on the ship. Because everyone still hadn’t arrived on planet--the majority, yes--all, no.
But everyone had been pretty much pitched together, which was not the case on the ship since there had been private quarters on the ship and everyone was assigned to different jobs at various times in different areas and rarely all came together even at meal times.
Maybe it wasn’t those circumstances working against her, though?
Assuming she wasn’t just being paranoid--just because she’d actually spotted three of the five when she’d barely seen any of them enough times to recognize them on sight.
Not even Captain Carnegie except at a distance.
Maybe arriving had triggered her own biological imperative to reproduce because they were ‘nesting’?
She supposed, doubtfully, that that could be the case.
But it was unconscious if that was true--not conscious--because she couldn’t recall any point where she had actually had any particular interest in pursuing a ‘mating’ with any single male that she knew--and was allowed to consider for that purpose.
And she thought that was likely because she knew all of them--too well.
They weren’t all the same age. In some cases there was a fairly wide gap in years between them--as there was between her and Captain Carnegie, who was a full ten years her senior, which no doubt accounted for a good portion of his lack of interest in her--although not a full generation.
Even so, there wasn’t a single one of them--the males--whose ‘good’ column overbalanced their ‘bad’.
The boys closest to her in age had tormented her and or bullied her pretty much as far back as she could remember.
Not just her matches, either.
Because all of them were coded with their genetic partner matches at birth so all of them knew who they were ‘allowed’ to consider as a mate--any sexual congress at all with.
And the males, the majority, took that to mean they owned their matches and they could do whatever they pleased with them.
And, since the girls were owned, they were ‘property’ not people. So the boys that weren’t matches also felt free to treat them any way they liked.
Apparently.
Not that that mattered in the ‘mating’. Those who didn’t match couldn’t actually force themselves on the girls that weren’t matches--without some fairly harsh repercussions--but that apparently pissed them off, offended their male persona to be told they couldn’t help themselves to anything they felt like they wanted.
And they retaliated by being total assholes--at a bare minimum--to any of the girls that tried to fight them off and occasionally took it further and slapped them around ‘for attacking them’.
They were jailed, of course--for breaking the peace--but that had led, at least once, to a more violent confrontation.
Where the female had not only ended up hospitalized for her injuries, but she had then been jailed when she recovered enough to be tried for instigating the assault.
It was a harsh lesson for all of them--the females--and Belle wasn’t the only one that had completely lost interest in the available breeding partners.
Fortunately, those who chose to eschew male company altogether actually made up a small number, however--so it didn’t throw the entire colony into a war over the female genitalia.
The majority of the women either still wanted the assholes or felt like they had no choice but to try to settle on one to make a family unit and to have help with their homestead.
So the men weren’t ‘encouraged’ to any worse behavior and the women who opted for a different lifestyle--artificial insemination--were mostly just ignored by the male population and left in peace--at least part of the time.
Belle wasn’t even certain she was willing to opt for that solution to her problem--because it would very likely present a challenge for her in getting along by herself.
But it certainly occurred to her that it might be the best she could expect.
There would at least be less pressure for her to accept any male at all as part of her household and she could still have children--or at least one--and she couldn’t be accused of upsetting their population/genetic balance.
“Who are you holding out for?”
Working at a task--cleaning--that required few active brain cells, Belle was deep enough in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even been conscious of anybody being anywhere near her and the unrecognizable voice sent a jolt through her.
She whipped a sharp look toward the sound, realized she didn’t recognize the woman or her voice, and then scanned the immediate vicinity, trying to decide if the woman had spoken to her or not.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked after a moment, thoroughly confused.
The woman scanned her length assessingly. “You haven’t bred yet. I was just wondering if you were holding out for somebody in particular.”
The tone set Belle’s back up--well, and the look. It was rude--almost accusing. She didn’t think she would’ve taken exception, though, if not for the condemning tone.
She wrestled with the urge to retaliate with an equally rude response. “How do you know I haven’t?” she finally asked with just an edge to her voice.
“Have you?” the woman shot back at her with barely a pause.
So much for thinking you could make any kind of response to that sort of verbal attack without escalating it.
Because it was an attack.
Belle just couldn’t figure out what it was about. “I’m sorry … Do I know you?”
The woman nudged her chin in the direction of the code on the back of Belle’s right hand. “You’re one of Captain Carnegie’s matches. Just an FYI, I’ve decided to accept him as a genetic donor and domestic partner.”
Belle gaped at the woman, blinking, too stunned to really assimilate the ‘challenge’ for what it was. Honestly, she was having a hard time figuring out what the lunatic was talking about.
She flicked a sweeping glance around in search of the object--bone of contention--of the woman’s fantasies and caught a glimpse of him near the waste processing plant under construction. “Ok,” she said finally. “That’s between you and him.”
“It is. I’m just letting you know I don’t expect you to get in my way.”
Her first assessment, she realized, had been right on point.
Psycho!
Thankfully, hopefully, she was the Captain’s problem!
She was tempted to inform the bitch that she needn’t think she was afraid of her or that had anything at all to do with her decision regarding her own choices.
But she wouldn’t fight over a man--any man--if she’d wanted one.
Or one in particular.
Because it was just plain stupid even if she’d felt the urge!
It might stroke their ego, might amuse them, but they weren’t going to fall at the woman’s feet.
Yeah, he was pretty awesome, but she wasn’t hanging out for any of the bastards. There wasn’t a thimbleful of difference between one or another.
Except she was inclined to think Captain Carnegie was the most domineering of all and that was not a trait that she found the least bit appealing.
Not that spineless and weak appealed to her, but she didn’t want to be any male’s slave.
The woman stared at her for a long moment and finally turned and walked off.
Belle watched her, trying to decide how she felt about the confrontation.
Besides uneasy.
Now, she was going to have to worry about the other women threatening to beat the fuck out of her? It wasn’t bad enough the men were scary aggressive/domineering?
She was on the point of just dismissing the woman from her mind and going back to her task when she realized the woman had gone as straight to the Captain as she could go.
And maybe confronted him?
Because he lifted his head and stared straight at her and her heart tried to leap right out of her chest.
Bitch! She thought, whipping around abruptly and heading toward the perimeter palisade with no clear idea of what she was doing or where she was going.
A gate was open--or at least a segment of the wall--when she’d followed the wall for a short distance and she saw some of the colonists were moving in and out carrying firewood and other forest debris they were apparently collecting from the forest that surrounded the colony.
She didn’t think she actually grasped that thought.
She simply followed those who were heading out, glancing back in the direction she’d just come from.
She caught a glimpse of the captain as she ducked out behind another colonist. He at least seemed to be headed her way.
It gave her a ‘goose’ of an unnerved jolt, sent a couple of notes of panic through her that added impetus to her flight.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of the captain in any sense of the word.
She hadn’t done anything.
She couldn’t be in trouble.
Unless the bitch had said something to get her in trouble ….
She didn’t want to find out why he seemed to be following her, though.
She’d already ducked behind some of the taller, thicker growing alien plants before she began to get the uneasy prickling sensation of being watched.
She glanced behind her for a quick survey to reassure herself and then returned her attention to watching for the captain, peering between a couple of branches while she tried to convince herself she was behaving erratically and irrationally. He wasn’t after her … for any reason.
But he appeared at the opening.
A jolt went through her.
She should just head back and see if he really had come to look for her, she told herself--and why if he had.
She was being silly.
She was scaring herself for nothing.
She was still undecided and trying to get up the nerve to just see what it was about--if it was anything. And yet ….
She stepped back, away from the bush she’d hidden behind.
And turned slowly, still trying to convince herself she’d blown the entire thing all out of proportion.
Just because that crazy woman had made her feel threatened.
And she suspected the lunatic had thought of some tale to carry to him to get her in trouble.
When she’d just spent the past few weeks in the damn brig for nothing more than being caught up in the unrest the captain’s report had created.
She wasn’t certain what made her look up.
Maybe she heard something that seemed out of place?
Maybe she just felt as if she was being watched?
She did look up, though.
And it still took several moments for her brain to decipher what she was looking at perched on a thick limb perhaps fifteen to twenty feet from the ground … and maybe that far from where she was standing.
She thought it was partly that he seemed to blend surprisingly well with his surroundings, but probably mostly because she hadn’t expected to run up on a native of the alien world at all.
He was wearing nothing from the waist up, exposing a chest and torso that was beautifully sculpted with rippling muscles.
The skin molded to his muscular frame was a very definite shade of blue.
There didn’t appear to be a single hair exposed anywhere except the multi-colored hair on his head--which seemed mostly a deep purple mixed with black and even some hair that was brown to golden.
It seemed to be braided along his scalp, but it was loose beneath that and trailed over his broad shoulders and down to his male breasts.
His face was …. Lean to a point of almost sharp, infinitely alien, and yet exotic in a strangely appealing way.
Despite the horns that grew out of his forehead near the hairline.
After a long, breathless moment, while he studied her as keenly as she did him, he abruptly flexed the bat-like wings he’d had folded close to his back, dropped from the branch where he had been crouched studying her, and landed barely a yard from where she was standing--frozen immobile.
Belle sucked in a startled breath, but she felt like she’d been literally rooted to the ground, unable to command her body to take flight. To move. To draw breath.
Even to think of it when he straightened slowly and she realized he must be every bit of six feet tall--maybe as much as six and a half. And, despite the lean look of him, he was a very long way from thin. He was just plain big.
“Ryne,” he said, lifting a hand to touch his chest. “I am called Ryne. My padur, just there in the trees, is Torr. You are a pretty little thing. What name are you called?”