Mene
"Aim for gaps in the head plates!"
Mene tossed Michael onto the back of the cranc, and the youth scrambled to the top effortlessly. The young male had agility and balance.
Michael slid, hands scrambling for a hold.
"Squeeze with your knees."
Michael did so and stopped the slide immediately. The cranc spun in a slow circle. Its claws reached up and snapped but could not reach Michael in the middle of its back. "Now what?"
"Use the club." Rosemary had been upset when Michael used an edged weapon, even a dulled one. This time, he and Michael hunted with clubs. The youth could not hope to kill or incapacitate the beast, but the blow would stun it long enough for Mene to slip in between the pinchers and bury a blade in the breastplate.
The youth had an infectious enthusiasm. Mene enjoyed the time he spent with Michael. Visiting his parents had always been tedious. As the only son on the planet, the task fell to him. Seeran and Lorran had avoided their mother’s schemes at matchmaking for years while Mene endured her meddling. Too often, he listened to his mother list the virtues of females he had no intention of meeting and often those same females were invited to evening meals. Too often they reared back in fright or disgust when they saw his disfigured face. Any inclination he might have had to court them vanished with their reactions. Since Rosemary and Michael moved into the cottage, such guests stopped arriving. His mother hoped he would court Rosemary. He knew this.
Rosemary had never once pulled away from him in fear or disgust. Anger, yes. Many times. He enjoyed the spark in her green-brown eyes too much to not rile her. She did not understand what his position was in his clan or how he served the Council. She did not know that other Mahdfel feared the Enforcer and held themselves apart from him. She did not know that his scars were not won in honorable battle against the Suhlik but were inflicted from other Mahdfel warriors, the ones he had been tasked to terminate.
She did not look on his scars and find him lacking.
"Mene! Stop being slow." The young warrior bashed the cranc with his club.
The great beast lumbered, one side dipping. If he did not act soon, Michael would fall from its back into the river and mud.
Mene stepped into range of the beast's enormous claws. If he were unlucky or sloppy enough to get caught, the claws could crush bones. The pincers were not sharp enough to pierce his thick skin, but the strength in those pincers was enough to damage him. If it caught Michael, the damage would be enormous.
Stunned by the blow, the cranc responded slower than it might to Mene's presence. He went right to the breast of the creature and sank to one knee. Only the plating on the underbelly was soft enough to pierce, and only one place would pierce the heart. Up close, the cranc stank of mud and fetid water. River creatures, the cranc built nests on the muddy banks and sat in pools of stagnant water. The rising tide brought fish into their nests. Properly constructed, a cranc only had to leave its warren to mate. They were filthy, lazy creatures, really.
The beast reared back, and Michael shouted in alarm. The club dropped to the mud.
Wasting no opportunity, Mene plunged his blade upwards, into the belly of the beast. It thrashed and screamed as its life poured out. More than life. Bile. Bile poured out, coating Mene in a burning, nauseating layer. He missed the heart and got the stomach.
He stabbed again, this time hitting his mark.
The cranc shuddered once before collapsing, knocking him to his back.
Caught under the weight of the beast, Mene slapped the mud and laughed.
"Mene?"
"All is well," he answered.
"Do I need to get someone?"
"Because of this small inconvenience? Never." Mene lifted the cranc enough to roll to his belly. He'd rather cut off a hand than allow assistance in this matter.
"Doesn't look small to me."
At that moment, Michael sounded like his mother. A sense of possessive pride flared in him. "This is a young hatchling. I've carried back many cranc twice this size," Mene said.
He wiggled free and climbed to his feet. Mud covered his entire front and a good portion of his back. The fetid stench of the mud covered the rancid bile, which soaked into his tunic and somehow managed to work its way down into his boots. He'd never be able to get the stench out of his boots. Shame. He liked them. Actually, burning all his clothes sounded like the best plan. Cranc bile was particularly corrosive.
"Are you okay?" Michael asked. The youth, himself, was covered in mud. It was caked into the back of his head, sticking together in haphazard clumps.
Mene laughed and slapped the youth on his shoulder. "We will eat well tonight and sleep the solid sleep of warriors."
A grin spread across the child's face, white teeth against dark brown mud.
Mene quickly dressed the creature so the flesh would not sour on the journey back to Rosemary's cottage. Using a rope, Mene bound the claws and then fashioned a harness around the body of the cranc. He hoisted the beast up and slipped his arms into the harness. With the weight largely on his shoulders and back, he would be able to carry it up the hill.
"Let's head home," he said, before amending, "I mean, your mother’s house."
Michael slung the club over his shoulder, undisturbed by Mene's slip of the tongue.
With each step, his boots squished. He focused his attention on the promise of rain in the sky, rather than the squelch of cold bile between his toes.
Yes, those boots were going onto a bonfire. He'd set a giant pot to boil the cranc on the same fire and eat the sweet flesh with satisfaction.
"Your mother will be upset," Mene said.
"Are you going to kiss her again?"
Mene nearly tripped over his feet. "What do you mean?"
Michael shrugged. "You kissed her when she got mad at you at the school."
"You saw that, did you?"
"I guess."
Meaning he saw it. Everyone saw it.
Mene didn't mind. He rather liked the idea of everyone knowing he kissed Rosemary. He enjoyed the kiss, modest as it had been, and he believed that she enjoyed it, too. "Would you mind, if I kissed your mother?"
Michael shrugged. "I dunno. I guess not, just don't do it when I'm eating. Yuck." He stuck his tongue out to demonstrate the idea held poor taste.
"I will think upon it." He did not need to think upon it. He knew. He desired nothing more than to kiss her again, this time with conviction. The last one had been impulsive. He stood close enough to her that his senses sang with awareness of her, and she stared up at him, fearless and furious. So, like any good hunter, he took the opening.
He had swooped in and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. To his surprise, her body leaned into his. She did not snarl or push away in disgust. As he stepped away, she touched her lips and her eyes danced.
In the days that followed, he wanted to pursue the subject with her, but nerves prevented him. The days stretched into weeks. Now his eyes tracked her movements, but he could not think of how to approach her. If she thought of him or their kiss, he could not tell. She ignored him when he was present and directed her conversation to anyone in the room but him. Too much time had passed.
The rain arrived just as he and Michael reached the cottage. Cold, the drops rolled down his head and dripped off the end of his nose. The youth dashed for the back door. "Shoes," Mene said.
"Oh. Right." Michael kicked off his shoes and ran inside. "Mom. Mom!"
Mene lowered the cranc to the ground. Preparing the beast for the evening meal would involve cracking open thick plates and spilling innards. It would not be tidy work. He'd dress the cranc, butcher it into manageable portions for cooking, and then dunk himself in a tank of cleaning fluid. Buckets, perhaps. He could strip in the yard and pour a bucket of water over himself.
"What is that?" Rosemary stood in the door, hand covering her mouth.
"It is a cranc," Mene said. He did tell her what they hunted. "It is a delicacy. The flesh will melt in your mouth."
"No, seriously. What is that?"
Mene looked at the dead creature and back at Rosemary. "It is a cranc. Are your eyes functioning properly?"
"Are my—" A rough, growling noise sounded from her throat. His cock responded. He loved her angry mating call. "There is nothing wrong with my eyes. You said crabs. Crabs!" She held out her hand to demonstrate something the size of a bricyll fruit, which could easily fit into the palm of one hand.
"Surely you do not hunt such small creatures on Earth?"
"I'll tell you what we don't do on Earth," she said. The door slammed behind her, and she stalked off the back porch into the rain. She stood toe to toe with him and stared defiantly up at him. The rain turned her sunshine yellow hair a dark blonde. The wet fabric of her shirt clung to her frame and the swell of her breasts.
Fascinating.
"Are you even listening to me?"
The anger in her tone grabbed his attention. "I am listening."
Her eyes narrowed. "Somehow I don't believe you."
"You doubt my honor?" To question his honor as he ogled her figure in the rain was understandable. She was well within her rights.
"You swore to keep Michael safe."
"He was."
"You took him to hunt that!" She waved one flustered hand at the cranc.
"He was well away from the reach of the claws at all times. He clung to the back of the beast with such skill! And his blow struck true, stunning the cranc and allowing me to deliver the killing blow. You should be proud." Pride swelled in his chest as he recounted the youth's exploits. Michael did not hesitate during the hunt, not once.
"I can’t even talk to you!" She turned to walk away.
"You are talking to me now." He reached for her arm, to pull her back. Her foot slipped, and he realized his mistake in failing to account for the rain and mud.
She fell to the ground on her ass with a plop. Her mouth worked in a soundless cry of fury, and she slapped the ground, splattering herself with mud.
She was so upset, so furious, so filthy, and so unafraid of him. Mene couldn’t help but laugh.
Stars help him, he laughed.
The snap in her patience was audible. Her nostrils flared and her eyes went wide. She made a grumbling, irritated little shrilling noise. Adorable.
She clambered to her feet. Her hair half hung down her back, and her sopping clothes clung to her skin, revealing everything. Tiny flecks of mud clung to her cheeks.
She raised a hand, not to strike him but to jab a finger into the center of his chest. "Is this funny to you, huh? Ya great big pain in my butt? For reasons I fail to understand, Michael likes you, and he doesn't have a lot of friends his own age, so if he wants to hang out with you, fine. Maybe he wants a male role model. Maybe he just likes seeing what he can get away with, but you have to be the adult. You have to be the responsible one and use some fudging common sense and realize what is not appropriate for a little boy. No weapons. No giant crab hunting! And whatever else you think would be a cool activity, the answer is no. I can't do the thinking for both of you!"
She reached down to the ground, grabbed a great handful of mud, and smacked it right in the center of his chest.
Mene growled as he watched the glob of mud slowly slide down his tunic before falling to the ground.
“Oh, sugar snaps.” Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
The growling intensified. He had no control over it. She taunted him, shouted at him in her fearless manner, and now her body tensed to run. He’d chase her. He’d catch her, take her as his mate. Mene had never felt so feral and so out of control, or so alive.
“You’re not upset, are you?” She took a step back.
Mene scooped up his own handful of mud.
“What are you doing? Come on, it was an accident.”
He took a step forward. She shrieked and spun on her heel, a wide grin on her face and laughter in the shriek. His mate liked the chase, it seemed. He’d even let her get away for a measure before catching her. In a careful tackle, he wrapped his arms around her waist and twisted so that his back landed on the ground.
With a satisfied grunt, he rolled them until his arms caged her. She stared up at him, chest heaving and eyes sparkling. She licked her bottom lip, waiting. His tattoos itched and burned with desire. The pattern at his wrist glowed in the fading light. "Rosemary," he groaned.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he said her name. Her pulse fluttered at her throat. Unable to resist, he leaned down and licked the tender flesh. Her pulse quickened under his tongue. She gasped but did not pull away. Tentatively, she raised a hand and stroked a finger along his horn. He shivered from the sensation. No female had ever touched his horn before, not in such a tender gesture.
His hand snaked behind her head and pulled her up toward him. Her lips yielded, opening just enough to him to taste her sweetness. His fingers dug into her hair, knocking loose what remained in her bun. Sunshine golden tresses spilled over her shoulders and the scent of her, floral and fresh, engulfed him.
"Mene," she moaned around his name. "This is a bad idea."
"No." It was the best idea he ever had. As he claimed her lips again, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward him. Her tongue moved against his and their breath mingled. Her body responded enthusiastically to his. For all her bluster, she desired his touch.
He pulled back to gauge her reaction. He had never kissed a female in such a fashion. Her green-brown eyes hooded with desire. His kiss must have been satisfactory.
“Mene,” she started, another objection on her delectable lips. He loved the sound of his name on her lips, even with her odd Terran accent. He’d love to see those lips around his cock, moaning and begging for more.
“No more protests,” he said. The hunter in him urged him forward. If he pressed her, she would give way and belong to him.
He liked that very much.
“Ew, gross.”
Michael’s presence in the door shattered the moment.
Rosemary sprang to her feet and patted her disheveled hair. Cheeks flushed and lips swollen, she cleared her throat. “Michael, honey. Take those filthy things off and get in the shower.”
“I washed my hands.”
“Did you track mud all through my house? Get in the shower now, mister,” she ordered, chasing him into the cottage.
She paused at the door and glanced at him over her shoulder, before slipping inside.
With a satisfied grin, Mene turned to his task of preparing the cranc for the evening meal.
Next time, he would not wait so long to claim another kiss.