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Chapter Twelve

A liyah

I hold Sirius’s hand and sing one of the songs of our people. To think that just a handful of days ago I was alone and untouchable and now I have a mate who my tribe accepts—that I’m holding his hand as if it’s second nature—the Gods have surely blessed me.

Sirius is quiet, but his face is calm and relaxed. I don’t worry that he’s having second thoughts. It feels good to simply walk with him in silence.

It’s odd seeing so many waruxes but not hunting them. The little brown four-leggeds are so plentiful we’ll find game closer to the Peacefield, and if not we have jerked meat my friends provided. Sirius tells me he felt a deep connection to this place when he came here after collecting the weapons with his new friends.

Sirius lifts me onto his back. He positions my thighs around his waist, drapes my arms over his shoulders, and climbs a sturdy vine down to the floor of the deep crevasse from which all the towering trees rise. I could do this myself. I’ve played here alone since before I could bleed, but it feels amazing to allow him to care for me.

“You know this place better than me. Where should we go?”

“My favorite place. I call it the Old Man.” I point the way and we traipse through the thick, yellow underbrush.

I love this place. The trees are so tall they touch the sky. It’s ancient and protected and feels silent even though the birds call to each other from above. The light filters down through scarlet leaves, giving the light a calming glow.

I pick off two waruxes before we get too close, skinning them far from our destination to keep predators at bay.

“That one.” I point to the best tree in the forest. It’s almost as wide as my longhouse, and as tall as any tree here. Its leaves are blue and maroon and burgundy. The breeze rustles the foliage as if to welcome us. “Hello, Old Man,” I whisper in reverent greeting.

Sirius smiles and nods. “Old Man.” He nods and dips his head in respect. “Shall I put you on my back and carry you up, or let you climb?”

“Tomorrow I’ll be the strong Aliyah. Just for today I’d like you to carry me.”

He skims some hair off my forehead, then leans to brush my lips in the softest kiss. Pulling me onto his back again, he scrambles up so quickly it’s as if I weigh no more than a feather.

The sleeping platform is about two thirds up in a crotch where a wide branch meets the broad trunk. Over generations the People have carved deeply into the tree making it the most habitable one in the forest.

It’s cool and dim in here with a welcoming feel. It’s like a cozy, inviting wooden cave. Toward the back, a thick bed of pelts beckons, and a selection of gourds rests near the entrance. They’re used for everything from collecting rainwater to making a toast. We’re not the first newly mated pair to come here straight from their rockshun .

“Hungry?” he asks, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“For you. Poppa whispered instructions in my ear.” I try to hold his gaze, but mine skitters to the floor. “He said it’s custom to wear no clothing, to speak from your heart, and to try everything your new mate suggests, even if it’s… embarrassing. Shall we follow the custom?” I lift my eyes in time to see him suck in a breath.

“Let’s start right now,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine, a sexy smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He tears off his doram leaf loincloth and pitches it out the entry to fall to the soil below.

I rip off the leaves of my dress, ball them up, and throw them out to join his. Tossing him a sultry smile of my own, I stand in eager expectation.

He stalks across the space that separates us, lifts me up, and splits me wide to straddle his belly. My eyes flare open at the intimacy of the act. Nestling my head into the muscular harbor where neck meets shoulder, I hide for a moment. I don’t want him to see my shock, embarrassment, or the raw hunger pulsing through me.

“I’m going to learn every spot on your body: the ones that tickle, those that make you gasp, and maybe find one or two that make you moan my name. Should we start now?” his voice is little more than a growl.

I scrape my teeth along the muscular cords of his neck and his grip tightens around me in response. “And you, Sirius? Shall I find the places on your skin that give you pleasure?”

“That won’t happen, my mate. Not pleasure like you’ll receive. But it would be a trip to heaven for you to pet me and run your fingers through my fur. I love it when you braid my hair.”

Recalling the pleasure he gave me with his mouth and the powerful spasms that rocked my body in release, a pang of sadness jolts through me—I’ll never be able to give him that. Then I push that out of my mind and focus on all the joys we do have.

It’s full dark outside, and we’ve yet to light a fire in our little nest. Whether my eyes are open or closed, I can’t see a thing. I’ll just feel.

Sirius lays me down on the thick pelt of furs, then straddles me, his knees at my hips. Those long, strong fingers stroke me from shoulders to wrists and back again. Then he pulls my arms over my head. Lifting up on his haunches, he slides just the tips of his fingers along my skin from my own fingertips all the way to my shoulder, then down my flanks, my hips and calves to the tips of my toes.

I don’t know what he did, but it’s as if he turned every particle of my body into a pleasure receptor. Every tiny bit of me is waiting for his next move. I’m breathless, panting with just that one movement of his. It’s as if I’ve been claimed.

His lifts my ankles and sets my heels next to my bottom, then breathes in huskily. Pressing his lips to my ear, he asks, “Can you smell yourself, Aliyah? Your body’s speaking. You’re calling my name already.”

His breath caresses my ear. I lean closer for more, but he’s pulled away, feathering both hands through my hair. He draws one finger down my forehead and the slope of my nose to my mouth. He traces around my lips once, twice, three times until I can’t wait for his kiss.

But his finger tracks lower—over my chin and down the curve of my neck to my collar bones. I’ve owned this body my whole life, but it’s as if I’m being introduced to it. It’s come alive for the first time—alive for Sirius.

His one finger, that lonely finger, traces up the gentle curve of my breast, almost to the crest, then slides up to my collarbone again. Over and over, slower and slower, closer and closer to my nipple, but never reaching the tip.

I hear myself panting, feel myself yearning, notice my hips lift toward him, but I experience no touch except the gentle press and scrape of his one, solitary finger. It’s circling now, around the brown of the tip, but not the point.

“Sirius.” It’s not quite a demand, nor a plea. If I wasn’t such a coward, I would order him to touch me there. All of my awareness is focused on the crest of my left breast. “Please.” I finally give in to my desires and beg.

“Please what?” His mouth touches my ear. His voice is a low husk from deep in his chest.

I start to place his hand where I want it, but realize my wrists are still caught in his large hand above my head.

“Touch me.” Am I too shy to tell him where?

“Here?” He asks, and moves his hand to my other breast, beginning his maddening game of torture on that side.

I’m wriggling now, trying to wordlessly direct him to just the right spot, but he’s relentless in his little game. Circling. Teasing. Building a fire within me.

I hear myself panting, making little moaning noises like a warux kit deprived of food. I don’t want to beg, but I hear my breathy, “please,” escape from desperate lips.

Then he bends forward. The tips of his braids caress my breasts. It does nothing to quench my fire, it simply sets my senses ablaze. I picture his head, that beautiful face tight with passion as he teases me past the point of return.

And then his tongue circles my areola. The warm wetness makes the fires inside me lick higher. I yearn for more touch. My hips rock in a rhythm matching my favorite beat of the People’s drums.

He sucks my nipple into his mouth and I moan in delight. His lips press tight around it and it produces the most exquisite combination of pleasure and pain I could ever imagine.

“Sirius.” His name sounds like a hiss escaping my lips. He licks, then creates suction, then scrapes the tip. This pulls a long, low moan from deep in my throat. My eyes fly open and I will myself to catch a glimpse of his face, but it’s too dark. All I can do is imagine that beautiful ice blue eye and the one of warmer brown, and the squiggles above his right eye, and the planes and angles of his face that are the most magnificent things I’ve ever seen.

He slides his knee between my legs and it provides a hint of blessed relief as I press myself against him. His teeth scrape first one nipple and then the other, stoking my fire yet providing no relief.

My hands are free now, and they’re roaming his back from ass to shoulders. I’m pushing him closer to me, silently begging, screaming, demanding the release I know his mouth can provide.

“You taught me how to love, Aliyah. I love you more than words can say,” he rumbles. His mouth slides to my hipbones, painting me with his wet tongue. He nips me there, then moves to my mound of black hair and then lower.

I was so ill when he did this before, I half believed I’d dreamed it. But it’s real. The pleasure is real. The wonder of it is real.

He splits my legs wide and shoulders between my thighs, bending his head low and blowing on my most private spaces. Then his tongue spears into me, stabbing me with pleasure. He’s burying himself in me. His tongue is pressed to the hilt. Both thumbs bracket the little chunk of flesh that holds the key to so much pleasure. The one that makes me quiver.

The thumbs are circling and his tongue is piercing into me and behind my eyes it’s not pitch dark anymore. I see sparks and lose myself in the joy of the moment until I come apart under his deft hands.

Every muscle in my body spasms in release, and yes, I call his name. Not Sirius, but Wanderer. My Wanderer. My hands are fisted in his hair, willing him not to lift his head until he’s rung every shudder of bliss out of me. And then his presence there is almost too much to bear and I want him lying next to me.

The kisses he bestows on me taste salty-sweet and intimate. I press my hand to his precious head as tears rain down my cheeks. I’m so full of emotion, full of love. I’ve never felt like this before—like an overflowing cup. I’m almost too full to accept more—except I find the capacity to allow even more to fill me.

“I love you, Wanderer.” I pet his hair, knowing I can’t give him the slightest taste of the pleasure he just bestowed on me. I slide my fingers through the patch of pelt on his back, loving the velvet, brindle fur.

“Do you know what a miracle it is that out of all the stars in the night sky you landed on mine? And out of all the places I hunt, you ran through my favorite hunting ground. And out of all the times of day, I came to that meadow at the exact moment those mangy mam’non decided you smelled delicious.”

“And out of all the planets and all the females in all the universe,” Sirius says, “the one with the straightest arrows and the kindest heart rescued me from those sharp jaws. I found the one who had eyes to see who I really am, and was smart enough to make me see what she saw. What are the odds of that, Aliyah? The fact that you love me? And taught me to love myself? You’re right, it’s all a miracle.”

He turns us both on our sides and tucks me next to him. He showers my head with kisses until I fall asleep.

Sirius

Everything we both said was right. It’s all a miracle. I refuse to think about the one thing I don’t have—the things I can’t provide Aliyah. I refuse to dwell on what the Feds stole from me. I vow to focus on what we have.

W e haven’t left our treehouse since we arrived two days ago. We devoured the waruxes long ago, as well as the seeds, nuts, and jerky the tribe provided. I’ve pleasured Aliyah many times since then. I’m learning her body well.

Perhaps it’s the level of intimacy we share, or maybe it’s the smell of her feminine musk that calls to my canine DNA, but my sexual desire for her has increased tenfold. I haven’t mentioned it to her, knowing it might detract from her pleasure to know our intimacy is becoming closer to torture than bliss.

She’d feel guilty knowing I yearn for her in a way that will never be fulfilled. I need to learn how to modulate my desires. I ignore my increasing hatred of the Feds for the cruel blueprint they used to create me. Instead, I focus on my good fortune.

The males back at the genefarm would envy my new life. None of us had the audacity to even dream of a life like this. I wouldn’t have believed it if a renowned fortune teller predicted I’d be running free on a lush planet, adopted by a tribe full of open, caring people, receiving the love of a beautiful woman. But I’m here now, and I have a right to all of this abundance.

“Grab your bow and arrows and let’s wander, Wanderer. Wear your loincloth or don’t, but we’ve got to hunt.” She smacks my ass like it belongs to her—I love the intimacy of it. She’s changed a lot from the shy virgin she was two days ago. She’s become very demanding—and my fondest wish is to please her, which works out perfectly.

Naked except for bow and arrows, we scramble down the sturdy vines to the carpet of dead foliage down below. There’s so much humidity here the damp leaves make no sound under our bare feet.

This planet’s bounty is rich. There’s an endless supply of small mammals to provide delicious eating. There are furry animals scurrying up and down the wide tree trunks. They have fluffy tails and are the color of blood.

Others almost fly from tree to tree. They extend their front feet and webbed skin from elbow to flank allows them to glide from limb to limb. There are large squawking birds with long yellow beaks and whose plumage is so beautiful I hate to shoot them, but Aliyah says they’re “yummy.”

We mostly speak in the People’s tongue, but we speak Earther at times. Many of her words have returned to her.

A twig snaps in the distance and I glance into the lush canopy above, looking for the sound’s origin. Leaves rustle with no explanation.

“Aliyah!” Something’s not right.

“The birds.” She whispers.

Their silence signals danger. Moving swiftly, I put myself between her and whatever intruder is crashing through the forest.

A white-hot pain stabs through my left shoulder at the same moment I hear Aliyah’s sharp intake of breath. A five- fierto spear has pierced my shoulder, the long shaft dangling in front of me.

Wrenching it out causes one quick burst of agony that torches sparks behind my eyes. As I nock an arrow in my bow, ignoring the physical torture of the act, I see Klinkk grab Aliyah around her torso, pinning both her arms to her sides. He drags her deeper into the woods.

She’s twisting and turning in his arms, fighting like a wild animal. She gives up on trying to bite his arm, but keeps scraping his shin and stomping on his instep.

Ignoring the pain, I pull back the arrow, but can’t get a good shot because Aliyah’s moving so unpredictably. I pick Klinkk’s spear off the ground from where I dropped it and run toward him.

He’s slow, rotund, and out of shape. Between that and Aliyah actively fighting him every step of the way, I catch up to them quickly. I don’t want to stab the Galerian with my spear for fear it will pierce through him and hurt my female, so I reach over his head and pull the shaft of the spear toward me, crushing his larynx.

I’m so agitated, on such high alert, I keep pulling the weapon toward me until his body is limp and the only thing holding him up is the shaft of the spear itself.

Aliyah wrenches out of his limp grasp and scurries a few fiertos away. I let Klinkk’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

“Are you okay?” I ask Aliyah, who’s breathing heavily, her hand clutching her throat.

She nods, eyes wide as she stares at the body.

I hurry to her and pull her fingers from her neck, inspecting to see if he harmed her. There are faint red marks.

“Aliyah.” I gently grasp her shoulders and thrust my face in front of her so she’ll hear me. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

She looks at me for the first time since we saw Klinkk, and becomes fully aware of her surroundings. She touches herself on her arms and face, making certain she’s unharmed.

“No. I’m not hurt.”

“That Motherdracker, ” I breathe through clenched teeth. Did all those annums with the Feds teach me nothing about the nature of most humanoids? Did the annums with the slaver who captured me after my escape—the one who kicked me until my ribs snapped and fed me only enough to keep me from dying—not solidify my knowledge that I should trust no one?

I vow to never need this lesson again. I will never allow anyone or anything to become more important than taking care of my mate, her family, or my new tribe.

“Let’s get you back to our treehouse.” I lift her into my arms and stalk toward Old Man, gritting my teeth against the pain.

Her head’s on my right pectoral. She must see the wound on the left because she says, “Put me down. You’re hurt.”

When I don’t immediately set her on her feet, she demands again, this time more forcefully. “Put me down, Sirius. You’re hurt and I’m not. Stop.”

After setting her down, she inspects my wound. “I want you lying in our furs. I need to tend your injuries.”

She offers to help me up the vines to our safe perch, but I have no trouble pulling myself up by one arm with the help of my feet.

“I shouldn’t have let him live,” I whisper into her hair as she cleans the wound. “I put you and the entire tribe at risk to satisfy my own ego. I apologize.”

She reaches up and pets my cheek. “You’re a good male, Wanderer.”

“Have you ever seen a two-legged killed before?”

“No. We have no enemies here. But that dracker …” she seems to enjoy the feel of this new curse word on her lips, “pierced my mate with his spear. I won’t lose a moment’s sleep tonight over what I just saw.

“On this world, the tribe comes first. We do whatever it takes to protect our own. If that involves death, so be it. His carcass will be carried off by predators by morning. Trust me, I’m happy it will be his dead body and not yours.”

Aliyah

My sweet male is in misery, and it has nothing to do with the pain of being speared. I think he feels he failed me and the tribe by letting his enemy go free.

There are other tribes on this planet, we meet to celebrate the largest full moon at the season of the falling leaves. Sometimes females will find a mate at the festival and go with them to their village. But we never fight. It’s a peaceful planet.

The idea of killing a two-legged is unheard of. Except for the awful males who stole Momma and me. And the Galerians, of course. That male deserved to die a hundred more times if it would save my sweet Wanderer, or any of my People.

I clean Sirius’s jagged wound. It looks like it needs to be sewn like I did on his belly, but he shakes his head and moves my hands away.

“Just because you’re mad at yourself for making a bad decision doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care for you,” I scold. I sew the wound quickly with sinew and a bone needle that was stored in a small woven basket.

Sirius isn’t happy when I leave to retrieve and skin the waruxes we killed, but I’m hungry. It doesn’t bother me when I see the Galerian’s body on the ground. He hurt my mate, therefore he deserved to die. It’s not complicated.

Sirius is sleeping when I join him in the treehouse. I skewer the animals on a stick and cook them over the small fire.

The embers are placed on stone slabs that were hauled up here before anyone in the tribe was born. Listening to the sizzling fat falling on the hot stones, I catalog my mate’s face. If fate had snatched him from me today, it would have killed me, too.

This male owns my heart. I couldn’t live without him. I make a silent pact with myself to do whatever it takes to keep him safe and healthy.