Ice Planet Barbarians: The Complete Series: A SciFi Alien Serial Romance (19 page)

So I give them a few grudging facts. “She has fur in one other spot on her body. On her sex.” At the exclamations, I add, “And a third nipple.”

“Another nipple?” Raahosh asks, his voice curt. Disbelieving. “For young? Where?”

“Between her legs.”

He snorts, clearly finding this ridiculous. “She is deformed, and yet she will not accept the mating? She should be lucky to have you.”

His words infuriate me. I rise to my feet. “You speak out of bitterness, Raahosh,” I tell him. “You are jealous that I have resonated and your own khui remains silent after all this time. My mate is perfect in every way. It is not her fault that she comes from a place with different customs. In her land, they choose their mates.”

Someone mutters at this strangeness.

“Georgie will take a khui soon,” I tell them. She must. I cannot bear the thought of her declining it and leaving me to go back to her strange planet. The thought stabs me like a knife, and I fight back the agony it brings. “When she feels the khui within her resonate, she will know what it means to be mated. Until then, I court her with caresses and affection. Just because she does not resonate for me does not mean I shall treat her any differently.”

“Probably a good thing that she resonated for you then, Vektal, and not Raahosh. He’d have found her lacking,” Aehako teases.

Raahosh’s nostrils flare. He shoots me a cold look and then storms away from the gathering of men.

I rub my face wearily. I am glad to be home amongst my tribe, but my body aches for Georgie. I am eager to join her in bed. “I need hunters and supplies in the morning,” I tell them. “We go to rescue the other humans. Who will join me?”

Soon, I have a good group of hunters that have volunteered. It does not surprise me that they are all unmated males and young. The elder ones might be used to their solitude, but the others, like me, hunger for a mate. Young, brawny Salukh will go. Laughing Aehako. Quiet Pashov and his sibling Zennek. Hotheaded Rokan, who has a quick tongue but even quicker senses. Skilled Zolaya and grim, unsmiling Haeden, whose sad history serves as a lesson to others. I suspect that, come morning, Raahosh will show up and join us. He is an excellent hunter, for all his bitterness.

It is a good party. Maylak will want to go, but Kashrem worries that the trek is too far for her while carrying her kit. She will stay behind.

Once the hunters have been finalized, I give orders to find rations—blandly cooked and not spiced. Water skins for the human women. Warm foot coverings. Extra leathers. Blankets, as many as the men can carry. We will head straight from the humans’ strange cave-ship to a sa-kohtsk hunt. There we will get the women their khui.

Then, my Georgie will resonate for me. She will be safe, her life unthreatened by khui-sickness. Both she and our child will be protected from harm.

“Sleep,” I tell the hunters. “We will leave at dawn of the second sun.”

The men scatter, though I doubt any of them will be able to sleep. They will be dreaming of flat-faced human women with third nipples and welcoming bodies.

My own body hardens at the thought of Georgie, waiting in bed for me. I sprint to my cave, eager to see my mate again. Aehako calls out a jest, but I ignore it; I don’t care if I seem eager. Any unmated man would gladly trade his place for mine, and they know it.

The inside of my cave is dark and silent, no hearth-stones uncovered for soft light. I don’t need them; I know my small abode by heart. I move to the bed and hear Georgie’s soft breathing, and my khui thrums again. My heart swells with love and desire for this soft yet strong-willed human. She is already everything to me.

I brush my fingers over her soft mane, and she stirs. “Mmm, Vektal?”

“Go back to sleep,” I tell her, pulling off my leathers. “I will join you in bed.”

She sits up, and in the pale bit of light, I see her hair tousled on her head. “I thought you were going to wake me with a mouth-mating,” she says, and her voice is husky and full of promise.

I groan, my cock hard at her suggestion. “You are tired and must sleep, my resonance. We leave early in the morning.”

“Then we’ll have to be quick,” she says, and her hands go to my breeches. I dare not move as her hands undo the laces of my loincloth, and she tugs the leather free. My cock is met by open air and then a moment later is clasped in her small, warm hands. Impossibly, I grow even harder. “Mmm, I’ve been daydreaming about this all day,” she tells me in a delicious voice.

It seems too incredible to think about. “Have you?” My hands steal to her soft hair, unable to resist touching her. I stroke it off her brow as she wraps her hands around my cock and grips it tight. It doesn’t feel as good as burying myself deep into her cunt, but I’m fascinated and aroused by her motions.

“Yes,” she says, and when she speaks, her lips move over the aching crown of my cock. I suck in a breath, and my khui begins to vibrate—a hard, insistent pulse of need.

Then, I can scarcely believe it when she takes my cock into her mouth. I feel the head enclosed by a warm wetness, and I nearly spill my seed then. I groan, my entire body tensing in response. It feels like nothing I have ever experienced before. I’ve had women pleasure me with their mouths, but hers feels…different. Her soft sucking mouth with its smooth, slick tongue feels like dipping into her cunt. It is only through strength of will that I don’t push deep into her mouth. I don’t want to choke her.

She flicks her tongue over the head of my shaft, and I clench my fists against the need to pump into her. I’m too fascinated by what she’s doing. With little nibbling touches of her tongue and lips, she moves over my cock, down the shaft, and then licks her way back up again. Then she takes the head into her mouth and rolls her tongue against it. “You’re too big for me to take deep,” she murmurs, her voice sounding awed. “I can barely fit my fingers around you.”

“Is that . . . good?”

She chuckles, the sound throaty and sexual. “For me it is.” She swipes her tongue over the head of my cock again.

“Georgie,” I rasp. The blood in my body seems to be pooling in my cock. My khui pounds against my chest. “If I am not inside you in the next moment—”

“Wait,” she murmurs softly, and I hear her shift on the bedding. Then the scent of her arousal perfumes the air, and I hear the sound of wet flesh slicking. She moans. “Oh yeah, I’m wet.”

It’s too much. I groan again and push her back on the bed. I fumble at her clothing—it’s all different. Why is it different?—until I find her slick, inviting core. I drag my fingers over her sex, and she’s right, she’s wet and ready for me. I grip her hips, push my cock against her entrance, and then surge into her.

She squeals, and I feel her cunt grip me, hard. “Oh,” she moans. “Oh, Vektal. Again!”

My mate is loud, and others will hear her. I don’t care. I pull back and thrust into her again, my cock pushing deep, the spur above sliding through her wet folds.

She cries out again, and I feel her clench around me. “
Imcomingllredee
,” she breathes in her own language. “
Gahdalmitee
!” I pause, worried, and her good hand slams down on my arm. “Again,” she demands in my language. “Just like that!”

With a chuckle, I give my sweet, demanding mate what she wants. I pump into her, over and over, and my khui vibrates with intensity, so strong that I feel it in my jaw and in my cock. Georgie must feel it, too, because she’s squirming underneath me, making aroused noises and panting. Her hands claw at my shoulders, and she chants “Again” over and over. I do as she commands, thrusting over and over again until she cries out with her pleasure. Her cunt clenches around me hard, and then I finally spill into her, releasing so hard that stars dance before my eyes. I weave for a moment, and when Georgie tugs me down on the bed next to her, I gratefully follow.

Cock still buried inside her, I turn and cup her body against mine, her back pressed to my chest. She squirms a little at this position. “I feel you pressing into my . . . backside,” she says, struggling with the right word.

“My spur?” I ask, chuckling. I’m aroused by the thought of taking her from this way. It’s not done with my people. Not when we have tails that get in the way. “Is it uncomfortable?”

She squirms again. “It’s just . . . weird.”

I run a pleased hand over her still-flat belly. “We will have time to discover our likes and dislikes together, my Georgie. Do not worry.” Then my heart seems to still in my chest.

If she stays with me.
If
.

“Mm,” she says, her voice sleepy. Then she makes a
huh
noise in the dark. “Your khui stopped.”

“It silences for a time after a mating,” I tell her. “It will not go away even when the kit arrives.”

“Kit?” she asks, and I can hear the frown on her face. “What is this word? The mental picture I am getting with the word is a child.”

“That is correct,” I tell her and stroke my hand down her stomach again. “A kit is a child.”

“Why . . . how can I have your baby?” she asks, her body utterly still against me. “I’m an alien. Actually, you are, but for the argument, let us say it’s me.”

Have I not explained this to her? “That is how the khui chooses,” I tell her. “It determines offspring. A resonance mate is the only one who can bear children. Offspring only come through a khui-mating.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wait,” Georgie moans, and then she’s climbing out of bed. I feel a sense of loss as my body slides from hers. Already my cock longs to return to her wet warmth. But she’s making anguished sounds. “Waiiiiiiit. Vektal, be straight with me.”

“Straight,” I repeat, confused by her use of the word. “You wish me to form a line?”

“No! Tell me the truth!”

“I am telling you the truth,” I say, baffled.

“You . . . you vibrated—resonated—because your khui decided you could make me pregnant?” she asks, her voice raising in volume.

“Yes,” I say, not sure where this is heading. “A khui always responds to a fertile female.”

She moans again. “No. You can’t make me pregnant. I’m not due for my period . . . oh
fuck
,” she says in her own language. “
Fuck! FUCK!!
I’m never late!
FUCK!!!”

“Fuhk?” I echo. “I do not know this word.”

Georgie descends back to the bed, only to smack a fist against my arm. “It means I’m late! It means you could have gotten me pregnant, you
asshole
!”

“Ass-hole?” I do not know this word either.

“Fuck!”
is all she says.

 PART SIX

GEORGIE

It’s hard to stay mad at a guy who doesn’t know why you’re so upset.

No, scratch that. It’s easy to stay mad at a guy like that. It’s really, really hard to stay mad at a guy who acts like you’re the best thing since sliced bread, pampers you at every turn, and acts like the baby you’re carrying in your belly is the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. Especially hard to stay mad as he and nine of his strongest hunters trek through thick snowdrifts in the bitter cold, carrying supplies for what they think are five more human women (and are actually eleven).

I haven’t told them that part yet. One bombshell at a time. And if we decide to take our chances with the little green men, there would be no reason to wake them up and subject them to new and scary things. Like, big blue horned guys who want to potentially mate them and give them a bun in the oven.

I feel the urge to touch my stomach, even though I’m currently piggy-back on Vektal through the snow, heading ever-up the icy mountain to where I left the others. I might not have had a choice about the baby thing, but . . . I’m not upset. Which is weird to me. It’s hard to be angry when you see so much joy on another person’s face, and bringing Vektal that joy gives me a sweet sort of satisfaction, too.

Maybe I’m more crazy about the guy than I like to admit.

“There,” Vektal says, voice nearly lost in the wind. There’s a blizzard blowing, and it’s making trekking uphill a nightmare. No matter how many furs I wear, I can’t stay warm; even Vektal is bundled against the cold. I’m covered from head to toe, gloves cover my hands, and my teeth are still chattering. It’s worrying Vektal, but when he suggested he leave me behind at the elders’ “cave,” I refused. I won’t leave the others behind. I can’t. I need to see them to make sure they’re safe.

While we paused at the elders’ cave overnight, a few of the sa-khui learned English through the brain-zapping. Their version isn’t entirely right, but it’s close enough that they’ll be able to talk to the other women at least.

I didn’t miss the fact that Raahosh was the first one to step forward for the zap. He was definitely planning on scoring himself some human booty. I told Vektal too and warned him to watch the hunter. He nodded, and we’ve been trekking close to Raahosh at the front ever since.

The black bit of ship in the distance is nearly invisible, covered entirely with snow. Worry strikes me anew, that I’ve left them all behind for so long. That was never part of the plan. I’m a shitty, shitty leader. “Oh,” I say softly. “Hurry, Vektal. Please. If anything’s happened to them . . .”

I let the words trail off into the bitter wind. I don’t even want to throw it out into the universe.

Vektal pats my arm with a gloved one. “All will be well, sweet resonance. Do not worry. We are here.”

Strangely enough, his words are comforting. This isn’t a rescue party of one anymore. It’s a rescue party of eleven. I don’t have to do this all on my own. These crazy aliens have my back.

Which is actually pretty darn nice.

“Ahead,” Vektal calls out, and he picks up the pace, surging to the front. I cling to his neck for dear life and don’t issue a peep of protest, even though his rough jog is killing my wrist. I have to know if everyone’s okay. Have to.

Time seems to slow as we make it to the discarded cargo bay. The snow is almost to the gap in the hull, and I slide off of Vektal’s back as the others surge to our sides.

“Let us go in first,” Vektal says.