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“This, we can do.” I cannot help but grin at her. “And then I’ll mate with you in a few hours. To keep your strength up.”
“To keep my strength up,” she mirrors.
Hope, like a little mortling inside a womb, implants and begins to grow in our hearts.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks as she stares into the crevasse.
I nod as I look down at my zenotablet. The geo-positioning sonar program shows that Sector 1779 is directly on the other side of the mountain. Hope tells me that crevasse is not a coincidence. It was too perfectly carved. We cannot go out into the geostorm and around the mountain, but what if we attempted to go through it instead?
“I am hopeful,” I tell her, meeting her with a smile.
“Hope’s good enough for me.”
I memorize her smile before we disappear into the depths of the cave where it will be cold. After another mating after dinner, she is pink-cheeked and breathing easily. I absolutely must get to a lab and run these tests. Until then, we will make do.
Even if that means I have to take her against a cave wall every few steps and then carry her afterward while the toxica is healing her broken body.
My cock strains against my minnasuit and I chuckle. “Come now, lilapetal. Time is of the essence.”
I shoulder our pack and take her hand in mine. She shines the light into the tunnel and we make our way into the darkness while I read the geo-positioning sonar.
Hope leads the way.
“What are these?” Her fingers reach past me to the cave wall I am leaned against as she runs her dull, useless claws against the rock.
We have stopped dozens of times over the past two solars within the cave just to do this. Mate. Medicinal mating is what we have affectionately taken to calling it. Each time, she waits patiently while I test the R-levels that are always non-existent within the cave. The air inside this cavern has proven to be safe. Now that we are no longer in such a rush, I also take the time to bring her pleasure beforehand. Now that the toxica is finally leaving her system, she is regaining movement in her limbs after our latest mating. And like the curious being I am learning her to be, she is intrigued by her surroundings.
I turn my nog to look at the sparkling gem lodged in the rock that sparkles from the glow of the light we set up nearby. “Ahhh, that is a dizmonyx. Rare, but quite durable. Oz can turn these gems into sharp tools that can cut through anything. They are tough gems, but incredibly beautiful.” I look back at her face and kiss her pert nose. “Kind of like you.”
Her grin is sweet and happy. I want to make her do that more often.
“Can I have one?”
A chuckle resounds from me. “You can have whatever you want, my mate.”
“Your mate, huh?” she teases, returning her fingers to my hair.
“Always,” I say with a possessive growl.
Her forehead rests against mine and she lets out a pleased sigh. “Where I come from, they call it marriage.”
I am reminded of the ceremony that bound Aria and Breccan. It warms my heart. “Will you marry me like Aria married the commander?”
Her lips quirk up. “Most men would propose from their knees.”
“I am not like most men,” I tease.
The smile on her face falls and I panic for a moment thinking I chased it away. Her lip wobbles. “No, you’re better, Calix. You’re better than any man or any alien in the galaxy. You’re the best.”
I give her a quick peck to her lips and grip her hips to pull her off me. Once I’ve cleaned her and we redress, I hunt down my pick and small mallet. Her laughter echoes through the cave and I decide it is the best sound I have ever heard.
“Which one?”
She squats and points to one that juts out of the rock. I kneel beside her to take a look. It is mostly sticking out, so it only takes a few hard cracks of the mallet to loosen it. Once I have it in my grasp, I hand it to her.
“Yes,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “The answer is yes. I’ll marry you.”
Before I can respond, we hear a growl.
I am on my feet with her pushed behind me in the next second. Something lurks in the darkness. Sabrevipes don’t venture this deep into the mountains. Something else creeps.
“Whoooo arrrre youuuu?” it hisses just beyond the edge of the light, the voice echoing all around.
“It talks,” Emery whimpers.
“Light,” I mutter under my breath.
She shuffles behind me and then her small pocket light gets shined toward the source.
“What the—” I start, confused by what I am seeing.
A mort, tall as me but rail thin squints against the light. His black and silver mane is braided and hangs down in front of his chest. White whiskers stick out in every direction along his jaw and cheeks.
