WILLA

"Ho," calls an unfamiliar voice, rousing me from my sleep some time later. I blink groggily, gazing up at the “skylight” in our cave as it lets in fresh morning sunlight. Did we sleep through the entire night? I'm curled up against Gren, our limbs tangled together and the blankets smell like so much sex that it's a wonder the scent hasn't permanently embedded itself in our skin. I glance down at Gren, but he's still sleeping, utterly exhausted.

Should I wake him? Or just get dressed and meet whoever is on their way in? I consider for a moment, then hastily grab the only piece of clothing I have left—an oversized tunic I stole from one of the red guys back on the beach—and slide it over my head. As I'm putting on my boots, Gren stirs awake, even as the other voice calls out again.

"Ho! Willa? Gren?" The accent is different, the voice echoing off the corridor. "I mean no harm. Is it safe to come in?"

Gren jerks awake, a growl in his throat, and he leaps to his feet.

"No, wait, Gren," I murmur, putting my hands up. "It's okay."

He stills, watching my expression. There's a suspicious look on his face as he crouches low, but he watches me, waiting.

"It's okay," I murmur. I don't look over at the spear on the wall, because I don't want him to think we need to attack. After Hassen's visit, I'm guessing that this is just another round of friendly interfering, bringing more food and supplies to us while we hide in our cave. Maybe this person will listen to “no” better than Hassen did. "Just…wait here," I tell Gren, gesturing at the blankets. "I'll go talk to him."

I turn and head for the tunnel, and immediately, Gren is at my side, pulling me behind him.

"Gren," I protest. "Wait. Let's not hurt anyone."

My alien looks over at me, cups my face, and then gives me a lick-kiss of affection. "Willa." He steps in front of me again, but I notice that his stance is more erect, his claws not facing outward in attack-mode. He's wary, but he's not going after anyone…yet. Okay, this is a good sign.

"You…can come in," I call out, wrapping my hands around Gren's bicep in case I have to drag him away (ha, like that'll happen). "But I can't guarantee he'll be friendly."

"I hope for my sake that he is, then," the man calls out cheerfully, and then pops his head around the corner. It's…Murdock? Or something like that. He's the one with the tattoos and the silver-capped horns, and the short hair. He grins at us, his expression friendly, and then tilts his head. "Farli brought some stuff from the camp, but she won't come in unless I reassure her that no one's going to eat Chompy."

"Chompy?" I ask, confused.

"Her pet dvisti. The skinny four-legged thing around camp. You remember?"

"Oh sure," I answer blankly. I admit I didn't pay much attention to what the locals had with them, but I guess there could have been an animal. "We won't eat it. Hassen brought us food last night. In fact, there's not much reason for y'all to be up here. We're good."

The big blue alien straightens and looks surprised. "You don't want a translator? Hassen said that neither of you had one."

Now I feel like a jackass. My cheeks get hot and I squeeze Gren's arm when he starts to growl. "Wait—"

To my surprise, the alien turns to Gren and lifts his chin, growling back.

I can feel Gren tense with surprise.

"What…you understand him?" I don't know why I'm so shocked. I'm also incredibly jealous.

The newcomer grins at us, showing an elongated pair of canines that look like baby fangs compared to my Gren's. "I'm not very good at Praxiian, but I've learned a few words in my day. Mostly greetings and 'I'm here for the cargo,' but I guess that wouldn't work here." He slings a bag off of his shoulder. "I brought tools to give you both translators if you want them. If not, Farli and I can go."

I blink. Why are they being so nice all of a sudden? It feels suspicious…but gosh, I do want the translator. I want to be able to talk to Gren. Even now, he looks at me, eyes narrowed, and then gives another growl of response to the other alien, who nods. "Um, I would like that. Thank you, Murdock."

"Mardok. And fantastic. Have a seat by the fire, and I'll get Farli—"

"I am here," a cheerful female voice calls out in English. "Chahm-pee was too impatient to wait outside." A beaming blue face and long, delicate black braids appear in the tunnel, and then Farli steps inside. She's easily a foot and a half taller than me, lanky and lean and so graceful that I feel like a dork next to her. She wears brightly decorated leather leggings and a necklace of carved bones to cover her breasts, and when she snaps her fingers, the world's ugliest camel trots into the cave, bleats angrily, and then takes a dump on the floor right in front of us.

"Good old Chompy," Mardok says with a shake of his head. "Sorry about that."

"Manners," Farli tsks, but gives the critter's long, hairy snout a kiss. "I will clean up after him, never fear. Thank you for inviting us into your home."

"Sure," I say, bewildered—and suddenly glad I dressed. I realize that Gren isn't wearing a stitch of clothing and hastily pull a blanket around his loins, then tuck in the edge to make a long skirt. It's not that I think he's embarrassed, but I don't want them looking at my man. I'm feeling incredibly possessive. He says nothing, just gives me a curious look, and relaxes slightly when I tuck my hands on his arm again, determined to hold onto him. I don't think he's going to attack. I'm just…grabby. My cootie hums loudly, reminding me that we're still resonating.

Farli cleans up after Chompy as Mardok moves towards the fire, pulling out a skin and spreading a few instruments out. He says something a few times in the weird growl-language, and though Gren is regarding him suspiciously, he's calm. I'm jealous all over again, because I want to talk to Gren. I'm suddenly glad they're here. "So, this will work?"

"Of course." Farli bustles in, her beast trotting after her like a tamed pony, and she pulls a big pack off his back. "My Mardok is very skilled. He has given translators to all of the others. You are the last ones…on this shore." She purses her lips and then gives me a cheery smile, as if changing the subject. "We have brought you both gifts from the others, as well."

"Gifts?" I'm surprised.

"Clothes and supplies," Farli says, unpacking. "Do you wish to see?"

Oh, I do. I know we have supplies here, but I'm curious what the others sent to us. More than that, though, I want Gren to get his translator. So I hesitate, glancing over at him. My big alien watches me, his eyes narrowed, and I can tell from his uneasy stance that he's watching the others more than he is me.

Mardok pulls out something that looks like the world's longest, deadliest syringe…with a control panel on it. He taps buttons at light-speed, and a light clicks on with a small chiming noise. "I don't suppose you can tell him that I mean him no harm and this will hurt, but only for a second?"

"I barely have the words to tell him I'm a friend," I admit.

Gren growls something, then says "Willa friend."

Mardok nods.

I hate that we're talking around him. "Do mine first, so he can see that you mean no harm."

"Is he going to allow that?" Mardok asks.

Oh. I don't know. "One way to find out, I suppose."

Mardok and Farli exchange a look. "I have to inject this into your temporal lobe. If he touches you while I'm doing it, it could cause damage, and we don't have a med-bay here. We're roughing it, as your people like to say."

"It'll be fine," I tell him firmly. "I'll just smile a lot and act like nothing hurts."

"Oh good, because that won't be alarming," Mardok says drily. "If you're sure."

"Should I distract him?" Farli asks, a worried expression on her face.

"No, it's all right, love. Willa knows Gren better than anyone."

I nod and turn to Gren, and my heart aches at how he watches me, expectant. He knows we're talking about him—heck, his name is peppering our conversation—and I want him to understand us. I want to talk to him. My cootie roars a response, and my body responds, wanting us to mate again, but one thing at a time. I smile brightly at my mate and put my hands on his face, cupping his furry jaw. "Gren, friend." I gesture at Farli and Mardok. "Friend. Friend." Then, I point at the needle. "Friend."

It's a stretch, but I hope he understands it.

Gren's brow creases and he looks over at Mardok. He says something with a series of slurred growls.

Mardok seems surprised, and then nods, making a low snarl that sounds like an affirmative before turning to us. "He wants to know if this is a stim. I guess he's taken a lot of them in the past? All the stims I know of were outlawed on most worlds, though." He taps the needle-gun. "He doesn't seem afraid of them, though, so I told him that's what it is. We can explain more later. Are you ready?" Mardok watches me.

I nod, and take Gren's hands in mine, holding them lightly. I give him a smile that I hope conveys all of my love and affection, and I try not to tense when Mardok puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Careful, my heart," Farli murmurs.

"He's watching but not moving. I think we're all right," Mardok says, voice unnaturally easy. His fingers brush over a bit of my tangled hair, exposing the area behind my ear. "I'm about to inject, Willa. It won't take but a moment, but I need him to be utterly still."

"He'll be all right," I promise, and the hands I hold in mine aren't tense. In fact, he just waits, watching me. I want to weep at how fucked up his life must have been if injections and people with needles are trusted, but touches are worrisome.

My poor Gren.

Something cool touches behind my ear and a sharp pain lances through my skull. I suck in a breath even though I resolved to try and remain unaffected. A second later, Mardok retreats, wiping down his equipment, and I rub my forehead. My head is throbbing.

Gren runs his fingertips over my brow, one of those low growls coming from his throat. "My poor female."

My eyes widen, because I understood that. "Gren!" I fling myself into his arms. "I can understand you!"

Farli chuckles behind us. Gren just gives me a puzzled look, and I realize how frustrating a translator can be when it's only one way. I can babble at him in English all I want, but he won't understand me until he has one, too. I plant a smacking kiss on his face, though. I'm so happy. I want to beg him to speak more, but Mardok's reloading his needle.

"Gren, friend," I tell him, then gesture at the equipment, and point behind Gren's ear. I indicate that he gets a shot next, and he grunts acknowledgment. My heart squeezes. Why is this normal for him? I hate that.

He watches me the entire time, not moving as Mardok carefully injects the chip behind his ear.

Impatiently, I watch as Mardok carefully withdraws the needle and begins to clean his equipment again. I regard Gren, but his expression remains as blank as it did a moment ago. "Tell me when it starts to work," I say to Mardok, impatient as I watch my beloved alien's face. "I can't wait to talk to him."

Astonishment crosses Gren's face. "Willa? I can understand you?"

Tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze his hands excitedly, still shocked that his growls and low thrumming snarls make sense to my brain. "Yes! Hi! Mardok came up here to give us translation chips." I fling myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and showering his face with kisses. "We can finally talk!"

I hear Farli's chuckle of amusement as she gets to her feet. "I will unpack your things while you two take a moment. Mardok, my heart, join me."

"Right. Of course." He gets to his feet and I hear clothing rustle and their voices murmur, but I don't pay attention to them. I'm too entranced at the sight of my Gren, watching me with an expression that is utterly dumbfounded.

"Hi," I whisper again, suddenly shy. I stroke his fuzzy jaw, noting he's still silent. "Are you happy?"

Gren's arms tighten around me. "I do not know."

I'm dismayed to hear that. "You don't want to talk to me?"

"My Willa…I want that more than anything." He traces a finger along my jaw, his gaze troubled. "But I do not like the promotion."

"Promotion?"

"To breeding slaves. That is why they have come to retrieve us, yes? That is why they give us the ability to speak to one another? Because we are going to be sold as breeding slaves?" His arms tighten around me. "I will fight them to the death if they try to separate us."

My heart aches so fiercely that I feel like crying all over again. "Oh, sugar. We're not slaves." I lean in and press my cheek against his, not caring that his big teeth graze my skin. "We're free. They're giving us the ability to talk out of the kindness of their hearts."

"No one is kind," he says. "Everyone wants something."

He might not be wrong, but for now, I'm going to assume we are being treated like every other person in the tribe. "We're not slaves," I reassure him. "You'll never be a slave again. I promise." When the look on his face remains openly skeptical, I continue. "Do you trust me?"

Gren nods. Once.

"Then trust me that I will never, ever let anyone do that to you. Ever."

"You are so fierce in your defense of me," he growls low. "You always have been. Why?"

"Because you're a person like anyone else."

"Not like anyone else." His expression grows shuttered.

Because he looks different from the rest of the people pulled from the pods? My poor Gren. "You're right," I say quickly. "Better than everyone else."

He makes a low hiss that I realize is amusement, and my heart squeezes all over again. I didn't think it was possible to be more in love with the guy than I already am, but just the sound of his laughter feels like the best thing ever.

"I love you so much," I tell him fervently, pressing kisses to his face, over and over again. I kiss his huge canines, his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, everywhere I can. "And I am going to talk your ear off when we're alone."

"I will hear better if you leave my ear on," he says, even as his hand slides under my tunic and runs along my buttock, squeezing lightly. "And your chest is making its rattling noise again." He leans in, his nose rubbing against mine as he whispers. "And I can smell your sweetness between your thighs."

Oh, mercy. My face feels hot. "That's called resonance—the noise—and it's yet another thing no one ever bothered to explain to you." I bite back my irritation, because Mardok has helped us, and it won't do any good for me to rage at him.

"No one speaks to a battle slave unless they must," he says simply, and I hurt for him all over again.

"You're a person," I tell him. "No one's slave."

Gren's expression remains neutral, and I can see he doesn't believe me. "If they ask," he continues softly, "Tell them I will fight like I have never fought before if they let me keep you."

He's killing me. He really is. Fiercely, I hold his face fur with my hands and give his mouth a ferocious, heated lick. "You're mine, too," I tell him, not caring how loud I am or if Farli and Mardok can hear me. "We're together in this."

His hand slides between my legs, a knuckle rubbing between my slick folds and finding my clit. "Together," he agrees, and our cooties are so loud that it sounds as if an entire hive of bees is droning between us.

"I think that is everything," Farli calls out, her voice deliberately bright and overloud. "You should have enough supplies to fulfill your resonance without anyone bothering you again. Is that not right, my mate?"

"Right," Mardok says, and his voice is full of amusement, as if he's tickled at how bad Farli's acting is.

I glance over, and they are on the far side of the cave, back where Ashtar and Veronica slept for so many days. They approach us by the fire again, and I realize belatedly that I'm sprawled in Gren's lap with his hand under my tunic and between my thighs. We're resonating so loud that they can probably hear us three planets away. I should probably squirm out from under his grip—this isn't seemly in the slightest—but I find that I don't care. If I push Gren's hand away while they're in front of us, what will he think?

That's more important to me than what they think, so I let it stay, and do my best not to squirm when he lightly rubs his knuckle against the side of my clit in the lightest of caresses and grazes his mouth against the column of my neck.

"Thanks for the stuff," I manage. "We're…ah, having a bit of trouble getting out and hunting right now."

Farli casts a dreamy look at Mardok, her hands going to his arm and she presses her cheek there. "It was not so long ago that this one and I resonated. It is a good time. Enjoy it."

Mardok just gives her the most tender look, and if I hadn't already made up my mind to dislike all of the blue guys, I might like these two. As it is, I'm conflicted.

And distracted, because Gren isn't stopping with the touching. I clench my thighs tightly together and he nips at my throat, goosebumps rising on my skin. "Oh, we will," I promise. And then, because I've been wondering, I ask, "So how long does resonance last? A few weeks? More?"

She laughs. "Only if you are doing it wrong."

"A few weeks? Kef me," Mardok says, and mock-staggers. "I wouldn't be able to walk."

I half-laugh, but I'm no longer amused. Gren and I have been resonating—and screwing—for almost a week straight now. We…must be done soon, right? At least, that's my hope. Not because I'm tired of him touching me, but I want this achy, needy edge taken off of things. "Right. Well, thanks."

"So once you two are done here, you'll be rejoining the tribe?" Mardok asks, discreetly straightening the pack on Chompy's back as the ugly pony-thing happily takes another shit on our floor. Farli grimaces and immediately cleans up after him again.

"Rejoining the tribe?" I echo, my brain having a hard time processing his words as Gren continues to touch me. "No, I don't think we'll be doing that."

Both Farli and Mardok give us a surprised look. "Why not?" Farli asks.

Why not? Are they kidding? I hold tightly to Gren, doing my best not to frown at them. I know they're trying to help. I know they are. But their cluelessness about why I'm mad grates on my nerves. "When we got here, Gren was treated like an animal. No one tried to talk to him, or reason with his fears. No one tried to understand him. They just tied him up and treated him like garbage. No one told him what was going on, or that we weren't slaves." Anger surges through me again. "No one even told him about resonance. If he's frightened and attacking strangers, whose fault is that? His for being scared? Or everyone else's for treating him like a rabid dog?"

I notice that Gren's gone very still against me, but he doesn't speak up. That's all right. He doesn't need to—I've got plenty to say for the both of us.

Farli's mouth is pressed into an unhappy line, and Mardok shakes his head. "It was a confusing time for everyone. Vektal tries to make the best decisions he can, but he can't be everywhere at once, and the good of the group has to outweigh the needs of individuals."

"No one even tried to talk to him," I emphasize. "They just treated him like he was an animal."

"No one spoke Praxiian," Mardok explains. "It's not the most common of languages in this end of the galaxy—"

"You do, or at least you understand it. So what's your excuse?" I lift my chin, defiant.

Mardok has the grace to look embarrassed. His expression changes to one of sadness. "That was my ship. I flew on it for many years before other pirates took it over. All of my friends who were on that vessel were killed. Then I found out that Vektal wanted to scrap my ship—my old home—for the safety of the people here. I know it was the right thing to do, but it was a lot for me to take in at once. I was…distracted."

Farli puts a hand on Mardok's neck and kisses his cheek, her eyes full of understanding.

And okay, I have the grace to realize that I'm being an asshole. I didn't think that it might be difficult for Mardok, and while I'm trying to understand why they treated Gren the way they did, I still can't get past the mental image of him in ropes, snarling and full of fear. "I'm sorry," I say to Mardok. "I'm sorry for your loss, and I understand why you didn't speak to him…but that doesn't mean I can trust everyone to treat him like a normal person if we went back."

It's Farli that speaks up. "He is different, but that does not mean he will not be welcome. Mardok was not an easy fit when he first arrived, either. He was very strange to many of us." Her smile is gentle. "But we can learn from each other. And you do not have to rejoin. There is safety in the tribe, and companionship, but it is not slavery. You are free to come and go as you please. We hope that you will come back, but if you do not, we will understand."

I nod at her, twining my fingers in the short, soft fur at Gren's nape. "We'll think about it."

Her smile grows broader. "Then we will leave you alone to finish your resonance." Farli's expression grows impish and she nips at Mardok's shoulder. "And perhaps revisit ours after visiting you."

"Kef me," Mardok murmurs, but he plants a kiss on one of Farli's black, curling horns and gives her a heated look. "I knew I should have come alone."

"But you will be glad you did not," she teases, and he just grins back. She glances in our direction, then taps her pony-thing on the butt and it goes trotting out of the cave, bleating with indignation. "If you step outside of the cave and look to the direction that the suns come up, you will see the beach. We are still there and it is less than a full day's walk. If you need help or have questions, come and visit. You will be welcome. Both of you."

"Thank you," I tell her, and then nothing else is said as Mardok and Farli link arms around each other's waists and leave us alone.

I remain perched in Gren’s lap, utterly silent, waiting until I hear the crunch of footsteps on the gravelly path outside. I wait a few moments more, the only movement my curls as Gren’s breath makes them flutter. Then, when I feel like it’s safe, I pull back and look at my handsome beast-alien. “Hi again,” I say shyly.

“You choose me over the others. Over safety,” he murmurs, the low growling and snarling of his strange, bestial language somehow more pleasing to my ears the more often I hear it. “Why? Why not be with the others of your kind if it’s your choice?”

“Because I choose to be with you.” I cup his face in my hands. “Just because you’re different doesn’t mean that you’re not worth it.” I smile at him, and my smile grows broader with every moment that passes.

“What?” he asks, wary.

“I’m just excited to think we can finally talk to each other, really, really talk. I want to learn everything about you. Who you are and how you came here.”

For some reason, this makes his expression harden. “You wish to know who I am? I am a killer.”