Prairie

 

 

 

LISTENING TO MY man waxing poetical about the color of my pubes, and I found it . . . endearing? I blamed total happy exhaustion and being high on endorphins for my sudden lack of cynicism and sarcasm, because no doubt about it I was thoroughly fucked, and fucked beyond belief.

Leaning up against X’s chest, I whispered, “Say something to me in Zenithian.”

A slow lazy grin stretched his firm yummy lips. He did one of those flicky motions with his fingers, which must’ve turned off the embedded ear translator because there was a small pop and fizz in my ear.

I waited eagerly to see what he’d say, but then his lips parted and he emitted a series of creepy clicking noises and scary hissing sounds like something straight out of a horror movie.

When I blanched, he started laughing.

“You’re messing with me.” I swatted at him. “Say something.”

“Lyrakagling.”

The mellifluous sound turned distinctly guttural at the end.

I nestled closer to him. “What does that mean?”

“Something.” He smirked.

Slapping his arm, I demanded, “Stop screwing with me.”

“I like screwing with you.” He spoke in English before flipping me to my back and hovering above me, so big, so full of harnessed power.

“Prairie, taw Ze stas verst Idris Neoas, liw redna nat enoch reet Zev vite. Nedra teh evel zem, leere net sed zem, meehri.”

His voice crooned, slipping over me, his lips ghosting against mine as he murmured. I only recognized my name and meehri, but when he captured my gaze, the utter depth of feeling in his eyes was nearly enough to translate the sentiment of his foreign words.

“What does that mean?” I whispered, brushing my fingers over his cheek.

“Prairie,” he rubbed a thumb across my bottom lip, “what I feel for you is more vast than the Idris Sea, will endure longer than the three centuries I’ve already lived.” He pressed my palm to his mouth, lids dropping over blazing gold topaz eyes. “Even if you leave me, there’ll be no one else for me, meehri. My beloved.”

My heart buoyed in my chest. I pulled him down over me, locking my hands behind his neck. A strange sense of wonder filled me, not because aliens really existed or because I was a foreigner on a planet I’d never heard of a week ago.

None of those things mattered.

My heart lifted because a man so fine loved me.

“So, is there a term of endearment a woman says to a male?”

“Meehra,” his low voice rumbled.

“Noted,” I whispered, but I didn’t say it to him, not yet. “I want to learn your language,” I breathed the words against his lips, tasting him with light pecks.

“Then I will teach you.” 

But we both knew my time here was closing in.

****

It was my sixth day on Zenithia.

Yay, Fight Day had arrived. Go me.

“Hey, X, do you have super fuck-powers or something?” I called out, finishing up the laces of my thigh-high boots.

He appeared from the grotto bath, glistening wet and totally nekkid and completely hard . . . again. “Obviously.”

So unfair of him to distract me with all his potent maleness when I had to get my head battle-ready. “X! I’m serious.”

“Why do you ask?” He conjured his clothing and started dressing while I internally swooned at the sight of him.

Especially his taut ass when he bent over.

Hmm, maybe I should rim those sexy tight globes sometime.

He turned to me, his leer wicked. I still hadn’t perfected that mind-block trick, and maybe I didn’t want to anymore.

“Because we fucked all night. You didn’t let me get any sleep, but I feel freaking unstoppable today.” I stood up from the bed. “Am I taller?”

“No.” He smirked, gaze roaming all over me.

I scowled, flexing a bicep. “Are my muscles bigger?”

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along the small hill. “Your muscles are perfect and smooth, and I wouldn’t want them any bigger.”

“I still think your cum packs a punch.”

“Want another hit?” He waggled his eyebrows before a serious look overshadowed his amusement.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are there really no other people you left behind on Earth that you care about?”

My eyes popped wide. “Why? Like next of kin ’cause you think RBF is gonna kill me?”

“As if I'd let RBF kill you.”

I laughed at his use of my nickname for Hippodylka, but then X took me into his arms.

“Jedrek filled me in on more about your past, Prairie.”

Lurching back, I tried to break his hold. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“That’s not even possible.” His embrace tightened, his voice lowered. “I love you.”

My hand rose to his cheek. “I love you too, meehra.”

****

The arena was packed. The suns’ heat beat down, but it was nerves that made me sweat. Despite all my bravado, I needed X to be proud of me. The look on his face when I’d called him meehra, when I’d told him I loved him . . . he seemed stunned by pure joy, just because of me.

Now he stood on the sidelines with Jed, Magnar, and Dex. He refused to take his place in the royal box, refused to leave the stadium without me by his side.

He watched me from under lowered brows, and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was, because suddenly I was shit-scared. The seats were filled with Zenithians, and I was pretty damn sure I was the underdog by a mile in this match. The crowd roared, and I wondered what else they did for entertainment besides watching huge Amazonian-like aliens beat the ever-loving shit out of puny humans.

Movie night perhaps? Bingo? Bunko? Charades?

Oh, and there were always the orgies they seemed so fond of.

A laugh almost bubbled from my lips, but it died as soon as I saw Resting Bitch Face stride into the arena.

Jedrek had explained the rules of a challenge, and the referee did so again as RBF loomed in front of me, big as one of the Temple’s columns.

Rules, shmules. I was into dirty street fighting. Besides, the main rule I was concerned with was if I lost this challenge, I potentially lost X to Hippodylka.

Although X was the king, so he could probably overturn any decision he wanted.

RBF dressed similarly to me—tall boots, armored chest plate over a leather vest—but while I held a mace loose by my side, she handled what looked like a cop’s nightstick.

Apparently outright murder wasn’t allowed, so I should be good to go, right?

The fight started before I was ready, but one was never ready when plowed into by a female the size of a tank.

Whoosh.

My brain matter scrambled from the punch she cracked across my face.

“I mean,” I spat blood onto the ground, “I know you’re called Bitch Face, but did you really have to start with a bitch slap?” I sassed, trying to stop the spinning in my head.

I heard a swell of laughter surge from the crowd at my taunt, and hustling backward, I got out of RBF’s reach.

Swinging the mace above my head, I lashed at her with the spiked ball. But before it could make contact with her body, she wrapped the chain around her wrist and yanked it from my grip.

She hurled my mace behind her as a vicious grin widened her mouth.

“Dammit. I really liked that weapon.” Hands on my hips, I scowled.

RBF lunged—all strength, no prowess.

Apparently she wasn’t into chitchat.

I ducked from the oncoming blow, shoulder-rolling onto the ground then back to my feet behind her. With my fan boys cheering me on, I scooped up the handle of the mace then totally fucking face-planted when RBF blasted into my back.

Scrambling to my feet, I spun into a crouch.

“Here, kitty-kitty.” I beckoned RBF toward me.

I swear the ground trembled with each of the Hippo’s stomps. Bam Bam Bam.

That time I aimed the mace at her midsection. The spiked ball carried enough velocity it slammed her back a couple paces.

My weapon dinged off her armor, causing no immediate harm, but at least she’d stumbled several feet away from me.

Shock crossed her features.

Color me surprised too.

Maybe X’s cum really was as potent as I thought.

With a growing grin, I blocked RBF’s next ham-fisted swing then jumped up to wrap the chain of the mace around her throat. Probably not a regulation move, but like I’d said, rules, shmules.

With a bellow like a heifer in childbirth, RBF spun around and around until she dislodged me from her back.

I landed ass-over-teakettle, shaking my head because boi-oi-oi-oing.

Christ, but she packed a wallop.

Before I could recover, she hauled me up. She got in a wicked blast to my ribs, and probably would’ve crushed them if not for the body armor protecting my much frailer human frame.

I battled down the need to upchuck, or shout mercy, or both—probably both—when I locked eyes with X.

He looked . . . proud. And he nodded his head, urging me to keep going.

Or maybe he thought I looked hot all battle-weakened and bleeding?

Blowing out a huge breath, I faced RBF.

“It ain’t gonna be that easy. I’ve been boning up on the combat stuff. When X isn’t busy boning the hell out of me.” I couldn’t resist taunting the woman, alien, whatever.

She roared again and charged. But I was definitely faster and more nimble. After spinning from her stampede, I struck her with the mace, gouging a long strip of flesh on her arm—ouch. With her momentarily stunned, I tore the nightstick from her grip.

Everyone in the arena stormed to their feet, cheering me on. Perhaps X had threatened his people with punishment if they didn’t root for the potential-future-maybe-queen?

I wouldn’t put it past him.

I was about to unleash my prairie dawg move when burning pain ripped right through my chest.

I staggered, eyes flipping wide. A bloom of bright red spread across my armor, an arrow sticking . . . out of me?

A scream born of fiery agony shredded from my throat, and the last thing I saw was RBF racing toward me, no doubt coming in for the kill.