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“Your primary?” I ask in surprise.
The girls talk, of course they do, but I thought this was a joke. He nods and eases the tip of what is apparently his second cock inside of me. That’s all the time there is for thoughts because my body welcomes this development and we’re fucking again.
Life on this planet is harsh, and while we have a thousand problems facing us, being satisfied is never going to be one of them.
7
BELLE
Two Months Later
The dinner table is covered with dishes of meats and steamed vegetables that we found in the jungle. The food has been carefully vetted by Urokol who, of course, also did most of the cooking. All of us helped though, it’s what we do.
Our group of refugees has become more than a bunch of survivors forced together by chance and fate. We’re more of a family now. Riley is hugely pregnant, so big that I worry if she’ll be okay, but she’s happy and shows no signs of distress. Well, nothing that’s not to be expected with pregnancy I mean.
Even Ziva is nicer than she’s ever been, losing something of that arrogant princess attitude that she had before her and Rakstan fell for each other. Bahr smiles as I dish vegetables on his plate and his smile warms my cheeks as my heart flutters then beats faster.
The flow of conversation is light and easy. The clatter of utensils and dishes is welcome. Normal, though none of us have forgotten that a short time ago we were huddling in a cave around a small fire and eating with our fingers.
It’s almost too good to be true. We don’t give voice to those thoughts that I’m sure we all have. One on one, in private, it comes up occasionally, but at meals or other times we’re together, we avoid such depressing topics. This is our time for laughter and enjoyment.
Once we finish our meal, we all contribute to the cleaning up. There’s a sense of camaraderie that goes beyond friendship. We’re family. We’ve survived so much together and now, impossibly, we’ve found a new life.
The outpost we’ve made into a home has electricity, not much, but enough to run some lights and there’s a cooling box that works like a fridge, though it looks strange and I have no idea how it works. That alone has made a huge difference for us because now we can store food for the future and it will last more than a few days.
“Do you need help?” Bahr asks, slipping his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck.
“I always need you,” I murmur as he trails kisses across my skin. I finish drying the plate and he shifts with me as I move to put it in the cabinet where it belongs.
“This is good,” he says.
There’s a large common room where we gather at the end of each day. The sound of a single drum drifts down the hall and a moment later Othim is singing. Zmaj music is different than anything I’ve ever heard, the beats are almost staccato, yet they have a melody that drifts across those almost jerking riffs. It’s like someone combined rap music and jazz. When I first heard it, it grated on my nerves, but not only have I grown accustomed to it, I actually like it. And Othim is a surprisingly good singer, his voice is strong and not a bass as I would have expected but a rich tenor.
Bahr curls his tail around my waist, and I turn in and wrap my arms around his neck. We kiss as he presses against me and covers me with his body. His wings hide what we’re doing, but anyone looking will know, I just don’t care. Let them see our love for one another.
“I love you,” I whisper, my lips numb from the force of his kiss but that delicious taste of him on my tongue is heady and I want more.
“My treasure,” he says.
We stare into one another’s eyes for a long time because I find it so easy to lose myself in him. Rich, soulful eyes that burn with his love and passion, all of which is mine.
“We should join the others,” I say.
He nods but doesn’t let me go. Lingering touches, more kisses, until at last the call of duty pulls us to the gathering room. We take our seats in the circle, continuing to cuddle together as Othim sings another tune accompanied by Dalagh on the drum then Thargar pulls out his instrument.
Thargar plays something that looks and sounds like a cross between a flute and slide whistle. It’s very complicated looking and watching him play it is fascinating. His fingers dance up and down the length of the wooden tube, covering various holes as he blows into one end, but occasionally he grabs the bottom and that part slides. The guys perform two more songs then put their instruments away.
“How’s the project coming?” I ask, looking at Othim.
He grunts and shakes his head, most of his attention on Eve. He’s running his fingers through her hair.
“Do you need help?” Rakstan asks.
The first Zmaj we met sits on the floor with his legs spread so Riley is tucked between them. He has his tail over her swollen belly and she seems to be asleep on his chest.
“The batteries will not hold a charge,” Othim answers.
“Can they be repaired?” Thargar asks.
