Alien's Concubine, The (6 page)

She stared at the bands of light as
they drifted downward from the ceiling and began to move along the
floor. As the lower tips touched the floor, the lights began to
change color, change shape. Blurring, Gaby decided. She closed her
eyes, lifting her hands with a great effort and rubbing
them.

Maybe there were no lights at all, she
thought? Her eyes felt gritty with weariness. It could just be her
eyes.

Or maybe it was her brain? Some sort
of spell, low sugar? Low blood pressure?

The rhythmic pounding of her blood in
her eardrums seemed to alter, ever so slightly at first, to a sound
more like drums—not blood pulsing through her veins, but hands
patting lightly against stretched hide—and then she heard a
tinkling sort of noise join the first, rather like a tambourine, in
counter to the drums, and a rattle, like seeds shaken inside a
gourd. Voices, chanting low at first, joined the beat that was
rising steadily, making her pulse quicken.

Alarm should have filled her,
consternation. Instead, warm currents stirred within her as her
heart quickened with burgeoning excitement. A sense almost of
breathless anticipation gripped her. Her skin began to prickle with
alertness.

When she finally opened her eyes
again, she saw without either surprise or alarm that the lights
were no longer merely lights. People moved around her. They glowed,
that same, strange blue light dancing over their naked skin as they
writhed together in a beautiful, erotic imitation of acts of
lovemaking.

The woman she found herself staring at
turned to look at her. “Call him. Summon him. He will give you your
heart’s desire.”

Gaby stared. The woman’s lips hadn’t
moved.

Summon who, she wondered?

Him.

Anka.

The god of fertility.

Anka. Anka. Anka.

Call him.

He will come to you.

Did she want him to come? she wondered
as the dancers moved around her, encouraging her … demanding that
she respond.

The vague sense of excitement and
anticipation became more pronounced as she watched them, listened
to the chant. It became a sense of urgency. Heat seemed to well
within her in waves that grew stronger and stronger. Her skin
ached, burned … to be touched, she realized. Her breath, sawing in
and out of her lungs became more labored until she was panting for
breath, felt heated, dizzying waves washing through her
mind.

“
Anka, Anka,” she
whispered, realizing finally that he was what she needed, wanted
desperately. Her mouth and lips were dry from her panting breaths.
She moistened them with her tongue, tried to gather moisture into
her dry mouth. “Anka, come to me.”

He was standing over her, staring down
at her when she managed to pry her eyelids open a fraction. As she
stared up at him, her eyes widening, every drop of moisture in her
body seemed to gather within her woman’s channel. It wept with
need. That nether throat closed with want, thirsted for his
caress.

He was … magnificent.

Dark, golden brown skin stretched over
a body of beautifully molded muscle. A leather loin cloth covered
his groin and narrow hips. His body V’d outward above his narrow
waist and hips to form a broad, well defined chest. Thin strips of
leather formed gauntlets from wrist to elbow, accentuating the
broad palms and long tapered fingers of his hands and the bulging
muscles of his upper arms. Long, impossibly silky looking blue,
black hair shifted and moved along his shoulders and chest with
each ragged breath he pulled into his lungs almost like the hair
was a live thing. The upper portion of his face was hidden beneath
a mask, but the sensual curve of his lips made her belly
tremble.

Those lips curled as her gaze finally
made its way to them, parting to reveal even, white teeth. Slowly,
he sank to his knees until she could feel the weight of his
buttocks settle on her upper thighs, could feel the nudge of his
engorged cock beneath the loincloth against her mound. Pain and
pleasure shot through her in a jolt when he rocked against
her.

This form pleases you,
Moonflower?

Confusion flickered through her. Form?
And how could she understand him? And why would he call her
Moonflower?

He leaned toward her, grasping her
upper arms lightly and then allowing his hands to skim downward
along her arms as he straightened again. A shiver of pleasure
skated through her as she felt the faintly rough texture of his
skin against her.

Surprised to feel anything at all,
Gaby looked down at herself and received yet another surprise. She
was bare. She’d been wearing her shirt, hadn’t she? She didn’t
remember taking it off.

He chuckled. I am Anka. With me
anything is possible, little Moonflower.

Gaby found herself smiling back, felt
happiness joining the steaming desire within her. This is just a
dream, she realized, a fantastic, erotic dream, but still a
dream.

He leaned toward her again. This time,
though, he braced his palms against the stone on either side of
her. She looked up into his eyes, mesmerized by the emerald glints
in the thin band that surrounded the wide black pupils of his
eyes.

A harder wave of heat suffused her.
Her nipples, already erect and engorged with blood, began to tingle
and throb, sending hard currents of need arrowing through her body
to her womb. She caught her breath, groaned as the sensations
intensified, spread all over her body with the weight of a touch
that wasn’t a touch, as if invisible hands were stroking her all
over. Tension coiled in her body.

She welcomed it, wanted it, and at the
same time, disappointment flickered through her dazed, clouded
mind. She wanted his touch. She wanted to feel his hands and mouth
on her. She wanted to feel his engorged flesh filling her, stroking
the weeping walls of her sex, delving deeply inside of
her.

He pushed the thoughts from her
mind.

She wasn’t certain how she knew that
he had done it, but she did.

She forgot it in the next moment,
gasping as she felt his flesh pressing against the mouth of her
sex, felt the aching emptiness filled almost to the point of pain,
the stroke of his hard flesh along the yielding flesh of her
channel. Dizziness swept through her with the intensity of the
sensations pounding through her.

“
You please me, little
Moonflower,” he breathed against her ear as he surged into her
again, filling her with a trembling urgency that threatened to
explode into rapture, “the delicate scent of your flesh, your
taste, the softness of your body. The desire you feel for me …
stirs a … yearning within me I have not felt in … many
years.”

“
Anka,” Gaby breathed
rapturously, struggling against the climax she could feel building
toward release. It felt too good to stop. She wanted it to last
forever.

“
What is your heart’s
desire, Moonflower? Ask me and I will give it to you.”

She couldn’t think. Her mind was a
confusing whirl of disjointed thoughts, churning with heat,
sparking with fiery, intense sensation. She sensed a demand for an
answer, though. “You,” she gasped, realizing the moment she voiced
it aloud that that was what she wanted more than
anything.

The response startled him. She felt it
in the sudden tension surrounding her. It was as if the very air
crackled with electricity. She felt a gentle probing within her
mind, sensed amusement gathering within him. “That would please
me,” he murmured, almost thoughtfully. “I will give you what you
are afraid to ask for, believe you cannot have.”

The words had no sooner filtered into
her mind than she felt fiery, almost painful heat flood her belly.
Her body seized so hard it crushed the breath from her lungs and
then jolt after jolt of rapture sizzled along every nerve ending
until blackness welled up around her and swallowed her
whole.

Gaby’s first awareness was a sense of
such supreme well being and happiness that bewilderment filtered
through her sluggish mind as it slowly climbed to full awareness
and she finally opened her eyes. Darkness surrounded her. Not a
complete, profound darkness, but enough that her first thought was
that she’d woken wide awake in the middle of the night. A pounding
sound drifted to her, resurrecting flickers of memory that she
couldn’t quite grasp.

“
Dr. LaPlante!”

There was concern in the voice that
struck Gaby as odd at first. Reluctantly yielding up the urge to
curl up and enjoy the strange sense of completeness a little
longer, Gaby pushed herself upright with an effort. Her eyes had
adjusted to the dimness and she saw that she was wearing nothing
but her panties and a shirt, lying on a stone platform instead of
her cot.

“
Dr. LaPlante! Gaby! Are
you all right?”

Memory descended upon her in an
avalanche of images. “Yes,” she called out, discovered her voice
was hoarse, scratchy, barely audible, and cleared her throat to try
again. “I’m all right.”

Except she had to pee. The thought
reminded her of why she wasn’t wearing her pants. Relieved for some
reason she couldn’t quite identify to discover she’d removed her
pants herself, Gaby glanced around until she located them and moved
to the edge of the altar near the steps that led up to it. The
crotch of her panties, she discovered, embarrassed, was damp … more
than damp, actually. The musky scent of sex tickled at her nostrils
as she touched the space between her thighs. The outer lips of her
sex tingled, sending a faint throb through her lower
belly.

My god, she thought in dismay! A wet
dream?

Frowning, probing her memory gently,
she scooted to the edge of the platform until she could feel the
cold stone of the first step beneath her toes. Her muscles
protested the movements as she climbed stiffly down. Her inner
thighs quivered.

She’d dreamed … something … something
bizarre, she remembered.

Her skin prickled all over, the fine
hairs on the back of her neck lifting.

She glanced toward the darkened alcove
where the god sat on his throne, but she found she couldn’t probe
the deeper shadows that concealed him.

Distracted by that discovery, she
glanced toward the floodlight she’d left burning the night before.
It was off. Guilt and dismay filled her. She’d left it on and the
battery had gone dead.

She didn’t know why she even bothered
to check it. She supposed it was one of those mindless things one
did when one didn’t want to believe, but when she’d pulled her
pants on, she strode toward the light as she fastened up her pants.
Squatting down, she peered at the thing in the gloom and finally
reached for the switch, flicking it in the opposite
direction.

The light blinded her, startled her,
and she sat backwards in the dust, twisting her face to one side to
avoid the light.

When had she turned it off, she
wondered, jogging her mind for a memory that remained
elusive?

Shaking her head with the thought that
she must have been far more upset than she’d realized to forget
getting up to turn the thing off, she blindly sought the switch and
turned it off again.

It took many moments for her eyes to
adjust to the dimness once more. She sat where she’d fallen,
blinking, rubbing her eyes, testing her memory for flickering bits
of information that teased at her but determinedly eluded her
efforts to grasp them.

“
The men came back this
morning. They’re working on a support we can use to wench you
up.”

Wench her up? Dismayed, feeling like a
cow, Gaby pushed herself up right and got to her feet stiffly,
brushing at the dust she’d collected on her pants when she sprawled
out. “What about the rope?” she called up to Dr. Oldman when she
reached the opening of the shaft.

“
Enrique found a piece of
rope we missed last night,” he responded.

There was just enough sarcasm in the
statement to suggest the ‘found’ rope hadn’t been found where it
was supposed to be. Not that she was going to quibble over it. At
least someone had produced it and she could get out.

The experience hadn’t been nearly as
terrifying as she’d thought it would be, but she had no desire to
spend another night in the temple.

“
I’m going to test the
thing as soon as they have it rigged up … to make sure it will hold
you when we pull you up,” Dr. Sheffield offered.

Gaby’s lips twisted wryly. Right, she
thought, in a pig’s eye. She could hear the excitement threading
his voice. He was just anxious to get down and explore the chamber.
She was surprised he hadn’t slithered down the shaft behind her the
night before.

No doubt he’d wanted to be sure there
weren’t any dangerous traps in the chamber itself before risking
his neck.

She didn’t care. She just hoped they
hurried. She had to pee and she didn’t want to be squatting in the
corner when Dr. Sheffield arrived. She could just imagine his
outrage if he discovered she’d pissed in his great find.

To her relief, she heard sounds
indicating Dr. Sheffield’s imminent arrival only a few minutes
later. Moving back out of the way as his booted feet slid into
view, she stood to one side as he extracted himself and got to his
feet. He didn’t glance at her as he untied the rope that had been
looped around each of his thighs to form a sling support. He merely
dropped the rope, staring blank faced at the chamber.