Page 6 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER SIX

Liv

T he sky is a beautiful mix of dramatic pinks and oranges when I wake, the sun still low in its ascent. I lie there for a moment, staring up at it, wondering at the strange potency of my dream last night.

It’s not like I’ve never had a sexy dream before.

But sexy dreams of my past experience have always been more.

.. ephemeral. Good at the time, but gone in the morning.

Today, I can still remember the heat of my alien’s body as he pinned me beneath him, demanding to know what danger I was in.

I can still remember his scent - woodsy and fresh, like someone who spends a lot of time outdoors.

I figure the scent thing is probably my subconscious picking up on the wood smoke and the ocean breeze, turning real life smells into a delicious fragrance to layer over the smell of skin and sweat.

What I can’t figure is why the whole damn thing felt so real.

Like I wasn’t asleep, but just teleported somewhere else.

Even thinking about the way he went down on me has my toes curling.

I’m feeling simultaneously satisfied and frustrated, like I needed to wake up next to him to close the loop of our encounter.

This man who doesn’t exist, who I’ve summoned from my imagination.

Perhaps there’s something in the air - a toxin of some sort. Just to add to our growing list of complications.

But if anyone else had any strange dreams, they don’t mention it.

As they rouse from their slumber, the girls start building the fire up again, collecting more twigs to feed it.

Khadija starts sorting out our rations with a girl called Hannah and Ellie heads back down the beach looking for more crawlers.

We’re about to settle down for the breakfast Khadija has allocated us when the heavens open.

Thick gobs of rain fall from the sky - one or two at first and then a torrent.

The fire splutters under the deluge and in our shock and discomfort, none of us remember to try to catch any of it for drinking water.

When it stops, as abruptly as it started, a short while later, we’re left staring at each other, wringing out our sodden clothes, with only the open box of rations that Khadija had been using with any water collected in it.

It feels a little unsanitary, scooping out water with ration packs floating in it, but our mouths are dry, and even those of us who had the sense to turn our face up to the sky haven’t managed to more than wet our lips.

“Water is going to be an issue if we don’t get prepared for the next downpour,” Grace says. “You’ll die of thirst much faster than you’ll starve.”

With that little piece of delight ringing in my ears, I set about trying to prepare to catch a bit more of the next downpour, ripping up bits of the escape pod, using sheets of mangled metal as funnels for the boxes I empty.

Some of the other girls help, and by the time we’ve finished, the sun is high in the sky and we’re all steaming slightly, dreaming of the cooling effect another good drenching would have.

Ellie reappears just as we are starting to seriously consider our second round of meagre rations. She’s scratched up, a jagged cut down her face, but she’s carrying something using her t-shirt as a cradle, and drags a carcass of something behind her.

“Found some nests,” she says, dropping the body before us.

It’s a bird of some description - with a rangy body, wide wings and a wicked-looking sickle shaped beak.

I suspect this is where the scratches have come from.

“Quite a few of these birds there, but most of them are a lot bigger. Too dangerous to go after. Got eggs, too.”

This is the bounty in her t-shirt, and the others take a couple of the eggs each, adding them to the rations.

“What the hell do we do with this?” Khadija asks, nudging the bird carcass with her foot.

Ellie gives us a demonstration, and though I can tell most of the group are disgusted by the idea of plucking the feathers from the bird’s body, they pay attention. Like we’re going to learn to survive here and make a life for ourselves. Like we’re not all going to die sooner or later.

I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge them their fantasy. I have mine, and it’s a seven foot tall alien who knows how to work a girl into a lather. A lot more fun than bird plucking.

“You aren’t going to take bird plucking class?” Khadija says, dropping down to the floor beside me.

I shake my head. “You heard Ellie - the birds are too dangerous. Chances are we could catch their young if they have any, but sounds like we’ve missed or not yet reached the season for that. I think this is likely to be the last bird we eat, and therefore learning to pluck one is pointless.”

“You do love to put a downer on a situation, don’t you?” Khadija says.

I shrug my shoulders. “Just being realistic.”

I stare out across the sea, wondering whether the water is safe for a dip. But, though I’m pretty sure I’m going to die here, I don’t want to do anything that might speed up that process. Such as getting in shark-infested waters.

Or whatever the alien equivalent of a shark is.

“We’ll have to venture in to the forest,” Khadija says.

For a moment, we both just stare at it - the dark, forbidding tree line that looks like the gateway to a whole other world. The sort of world where even the friendly animals have enough teeth to bite your hand clean off. I suppress a shudder at the thought.

“We should stay here while we can,” I say.

“Yeah,” Khadija agrees, and there’s relief in her voice. “No point moving away from the escape pod until we’re completely sure there isn’t going to be a rescue.”

I’m already completely sure, but I appreciate the excuse to stay out here.

“Good thinking,” I say, and I think Khadija knows I’m bullshitting. That I’m every bit as wary of the dark, dark trees as she is.

That night, I volunteer for one of the early morning watches.

I don’t want to take the nicer first watch again.

It doesn’t feel fair. I’m also tired. Bone tired.

I’m not sure why - I haven’t done particularly more than anyone else on the beach - but my limbs and head and eyes feel so, so heavy.

I practically collapse into the big communal bed that is the escape pod parachute.

It feels like as soon as I lie down, things shift, and suddenly I’m not sandwiched between several other female bodies, but alone on a very different bed.

The animal furs beneath me are softer, more decadent than the parachute, and there’s no sand anywhere.

I’m not wearing a sweat stained, rumpled jumpsuit either, but some sort of billowing robe that hangs off my bare shoulder as I sit upright.

The material isn’t sheer like the dress I was wearing last night, but it is luxurious, sliding against my skin with the softness of a caress.

I look around me. I don’t feel like I’m dreaming, but then who remembers their dreams fully when they wake. Perhaps this is what all dreams are like when you’re in them, and the faded, incoherent flashes are just all that’s left once you wake.

But… that doesn’t feel right. I’m too conscious. Too aware of myself and my thoughts. Dreams just are. And then they’re gone. This feels permanent. Just like my dream from last night, I think it will stick in my mind with far greater clarity than it should.

It’s the same tent as before, but things feel a little different.

Not just my clothes, the fact that I’m not tied up.

The layout is a little different, too, and the bed of furs is elevated off the floor, placed on some kind of bed frame.

The tent is larger to accommodate it, I realise. This is the difference I’m noticing.

“I was thinking about the home we will build together,” my alien lover says as he takes a seat beside me. I’m not sure where he came from, but that’s the nature of dreams. People just appear in them. It doesn’t startle me. His arrival just feels like it completes the scene. Almost comforting.

He strokes a hand down my cheek, pulling the robe back up so it covers my shoulder again.

“You deserve fine things and a comfortable home. I will do this for you, my linasha. I will make you the happiest female.”

This must be my subconscious mind’s answer to my primal fears of starving, of dying on a parachute on a beach. Of having my corpse picked over by one of those horrible birds Ellie found. A big, gorgeous hunk of an alien man to come and find me, woo me, and promise me every comfort I could require.

And eat my pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Even thinking about his mouth on me last night has my core growing hot. This morning, I felt almost a bit of disappointment that there hadn’t been any actual boning involved in the dream, but right now I’m feeling all fluttery and needy at the thought of his tongue on my clit again.

I toss my hair back, letting the robe fall from my shoulder again as I do. He grins, revealing a flash of fang. He clearly recognises the invitation, but doesn’t take it. I have to wonder what my subconscious is playing at here.

I bite on my lower lip as I look up at him, running my hand from my neck, down to my breasts. His grin widens.

“I know what you want, linasha,” he says, voice all gruff and heat. “And you will get it.”

He trails a hand over my thigh - touching me through the robe rather than beneath it. I part my legs a little, the robe slipping from my legs and revealing the naked skin beneath. He groans, but just pulls the robe back into place.

Why is my dream guy being a prude? What the fuck, subconscious.

“I want to talk to you first,” he says, brushing his knuckles across my cheek. “I would like to know my linasha.”

“I think you already know me pretty well,” I say, arching an eyebrow at him.