Page 20 of Hunted By Khor (Alien Mate Hunt #1)
The blue-green is still partially paralyzed, can't flee. Vek is closer, stronger, and the frenzy makes him savage. He grabs the younger male, and what happens next makes me look away.
The sounds are enough. Snarling. The rip of scales. Screams that start as rage and become something else. Something broken.
The yellow one runs. Doesn't look back. Just runs into the desert heat.
I edge around the wrestling males, staying clear of the secretion cloud. The frenzy will last hours. The damage they're doing to each other...
Vek is stronger, but the blue-green fights with paralyzed desperation. Claws rake. Teeth tear. They're not trying to mate anymore. They're trying to dominate, to destroy, the secretion turning their biology into a weapon against them.
By the time I reach the opposite side of the den, Vek has the blue-green pinned.
What he's doing... the blue-green's screams echo off the walls.
But Vek is screaming too. The frenzy doesn't care about consent or preference.
It just demands breeding, completion, regardless of compatibility or damage.
Green blood pools on the stone. From both of them. The violence of forced mating between incompatible males is destroying them both.
I can't watch anymore. Can't listen. I grab what supplies I can and retreat to the back chamber of the den, as far from them as possible.
But the sounds carry. The wet violence of it.
The screams becoming whimpers becoming silence then screams again as the frenzy drives them to continue despite damage.
Hours pass. The sounds gradually weaken. Become desperate gasps. Then, finally, silence.
I wait longer to be sure, then carefully return to the main chamber.
They're both alive, barely. Vek is curled on his side, green blood pooling beneath him. The damage to his lower body is extensive. He's conscious, eyes focusing on me with mixture of hatred and pleading.
The blue-green isn't moving at all, but still breathing. Unconscious from trauma.
“Kill me.” Vek's voice is destroyed, barely a whisper. “Please.”
“That's for Khor to decide.”
“Can't... can't survive like this. Bleeding inside. Everything torn.”
He's right. The damage from violent mating between males, driven by frenzy to completion despite anatomical incompatibility, has destroyed him internally. He'll die slowly over days.
“Please,” he begs. “Mercy.”
“You came here to rape me and you want mercy?”
“Was... was stupid. Young. Desperate. But this...” He coughs, blood bubbling. “This is torture.”
I look at him. This young male who terrorized me for days. Who would have taken my choice. And I feel... nothing. No sympathy. No hatred. Just tired acceptance.
“Khor returns tomorrow. He'll decide.”
I drag the unconscious blue-green outside, away from the worst of the blood. He might survive if his internal damage isn't as severe. Then I return and sit as far from Vek as possible, weapons ready in case the frenzy returns.
It doesn't. He just lies there, occasionally whimpering, fading in and out of consciousness.
The sun sets. I don't sleep. Just wait and watch and try not to think about how easy it was to turn their biology against them. How the secretion meant for harvesting became a weapon in my hands.
The night is long and full of Vek's labored breathing.
But I survived the attack.
Four hunters came for me, and I survived.
That has to count for something.
And wet. Because despite everything, the fight triggered the tonic's response. My body interpreted the violence as foreplay, the dominance struggle as mating display. I'm dripping, clenching on nothing, need building with nowhere to go.
Khor won't be back until tomorrow at the earliest.
I clean the blood from the floor. Reorganize my remaining weapons. Try to ignore the ache building between my legs.
The sun climbs higher. The den gets hotter. My body gets more desperate.
This is the real torture. Not the fight. The after. When the tonic demands satisfaction I can't provide myself. When my body craves the specific male who's a day away.
I try the usual distractions. Cleaning. Organizing. Planning defensive positions in case they come back.
Nothing helps.
By midday, I'm grinding against the furs, seeking friction that won't satisfy. By afternoon, I'm using my fingers, knowing it's pointless but trying anyway. The tonic has made me specific. Only Khor's cock, his knot, his particular biology will quiet this need.
The sun sets. I don't eat. Can't. The need has consumed everything else.
I lie on the furs where his scent is strongest, surrounded by the smell of him, and wait.
Tomorrow he returns. Tomorrow this ache ends.
If I survive the night without losing my mind.
The paralytic spine wears off in about six hours. The blindness from sulfur crystals fades in a day. The cuts from obsidian heal slowly but clean.
But the need from the tonic never fades. It just builds and builds until satisfied by the specific male the body has chosen.
Mine has chosen Khor. And he's not here.
I curl around his scent and count the hours.
Eleven days until the portal opens.
Eleven days to decide between Earth and this alien who owns my body's responses.
But first, I need to survive this empty night.
The stars above are alien, patterns I'll never recognize as constellations. The desert sounds are full of creatures I'll never understand.
But I survived four hunters alone.
That has to count for something.
Even if my body is trying to kill me with need.
Even if morning feels like forever away.
I survived.
That's what matters.
That's what Khor will care about when he returns.
If he returns.
No. When. When he returns.
Because the alternative is too empty to consider.
Eleven days to decide.
But really, hasn't the choice already been made? My body chose. The tonic ensured that. The only question is whether my mind will accept what my flesh already knows.
That I belong here. With him.
Even if here means fighting for my life.
Even if him means an alien who makes me scream.
The night is long and empty and full of need.
But I survived the attack.
I'll survive this too.
Because that's what I do now.
Survive.