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A shiver wracks my body as it swings its massive head in my direction, as if I made a noise. I might have, the fear clutching my body is like nothing I have ever known before. On all the calls I went on, even active shooter cases, I never experienced this. My body doesn’t seem to know whether I am hot or cold. Flashes of both shoot through me until I can do nothing more than shake like a leaf.
As if my shaking is audible, the beast shifts its eyes towards me, as if it can see me through the foliage. I am snared in place by a bright azure gaze. I feel the weight of that stare to my very soul. Tensing, I dig my hands into the limb beneath me, my nails breaking off against the bark as if I can anchor myself to it, protecting myself from those eyes.
There is no doubt in my mind that death is near. The beast narrows its gaze upon me, freeze framing towards me, much like a cat does when it has its sights on prey. A scream builds in my chest, working its way up my throat as all conscious thought flees, only a thread of sanity remains, and it is that thread that forces the scream back down. Drawing attention or making sudden movements is not a wise choice when being hunted.
Autopilot takes over and I slowly pry my hands from the bark, never taking my eyes off the beast as I move. There are quite a few trees between it and I. If I can make it down into the denser woods, I might have a chance. Something this large would have trouble traversing through the thick foliage. From branch to branch I go, watching as the nightmare on four feet draws closer. Close enough that I swear I can feel its warm breath upon my goosebump covered skin.
My nose wrinkles in preparation for its smell, expecting something rancid and vile. To my surprise, and equal amounts of horror, its breath smells of…nothing. So, it hasn’t been feasting upon the rotting corpses as my subconscious so kindly imagined, the image matching the nightmare standing before me.
I freeze in fear when I realize that my climbing has only distracted me, allowing it to come alarmingly closer. Instinctively I want to flinch back, waiting for it to strike. Its maw is canine-esk but when it leans forward the gleaming black scales and hand length teeth destroy any dog-like features I might have associated it with.
It is so alien that I am frozen in awe and fear at being so close to one of the behemoths from the third wave. Being this close and still living is unheard of. A deep rumble vibrates its massive chest and feel it in my very bones. The tree I’m hiding in seems to shake with the force of it, yet I can’t hear it. I can only feel it.
My breathing picks up until I am almost panting, all the emotions coursing through me until I am immobilized. The monster rumbles again, the vibration deeper this time. For a few moments we are locked in a silent battle, neither of us breaking our stare. To my shock, it steps back away from my tree, its azure eyes never leaving my face.
We stay like this for long, agonizing moments until I finally become aware of my aches and pains, the throbbing in my ankle and hands are almost unbearable. Still afraid to take my eyes off the beast, I reach around to my back to grasp my backpack. I gauge the monster’s reactions to every move I make until with a sigh, I resign myself to my fate. If I am meant to die, nothing I do will stop this monstrosity. He could probably eat me and the tree I am in.
Still, I grab the rifle off my back, chambering a round, I lay the gun facing towards it, ready to go. Not that I think it will do much good. The thing is simply too massive and too fast. Marginally, I move until my backpack is sitting between my legs. The sound of the zipper is almost painfully loud, but the giant stays still as I search my bag. My supplies are limited but I find what I want rather quickly.
The small bottle of disinfectant is like liquid gold in The After, and I make sure to grasp it tightly in my hand. Casting one more look at the harbinger of my doom, I see that it has sat on its haunches. Telling myself it is nothing more than a massive, scaley, predatory poodle I get to work on patching myself up.
My leggings are stuck to my skin, and I hiss quietly in pain when I yank them quickly up, ripping the already healing scabs off. Fresh blood trickles down my leg. As robotically as I can, I rip off a piece of my already torn pants and use that to dab the blood, pouring little bits of the disinfectant solution into each ragged wound.
The burn is terrible, so I work on my hands while I wait for it to pass. The urge to shout in pain is strong and I bite back each whimper as the burn only seems to intensify. Turning my attention fully to my nails I see that they are torn and broken and there are little cuts here and there but nothing major.
As the pain in my leg subsides, I build up the courage to look at my wound. For only a moment I forget that I am supposed to be watching the Jurassic era wolf that wants to eat me. Wholly focused on my pain, I shift my gaze to my leg and my heart literally ceases to beat and a scream is torn from my throat. The predatory poodle is now inches from my leg, the eyes blazing as it sniffs my wounds.
The urge to kick it is strong, but I think better of it. The image of its toothy maw eating my leg in one bite is enough of a deterrent. Instead, I freeze like a deer in headlights. At this point my fear is a living, breathing thing sitting on my chest until I can barely breath. Slowly, as if afraid to spook me, the monster moves forward, crowding me into the trunk of the tree. Closing my eyes tight, I prepare for death.
Chapter Four
*Ragnar*
My mate smells acidic, like fear and blood. It pains me that she is injured, and yet it is an easy path to follow. Only once do I consider deviating, to kill the vermin responsible for injuring her. The need to see her safe wins out.
Her scent is strong in the forest, a scent I do not like, and I fight my inner beast for control once we have found her. She is clever, as I knew she would be. She is the strongest and bravest of the humans she lives with. I am not surprised to find her in the trees. It is what I would have done if I were as small as she.
Her weapons are not drawn as I approach, her fear scent strong, but I know that she would pull them if needed. Not that they would stop me, but I admire her will to survive. Just because they don’t stop me, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t stop another beast. For a moment I wish she had shot the vermin, but the knowledge that I am not the biggest being out here squashes that quickly. If she had discharged her weapon, every large predator in the area would be after her, wanting to taste her human flesh.
My eyes close on a groan as my beast reminds me that we wish to taste her human flesh too, though not as food. A battle wages between us, a battle I’m afraid I won’t win. Only a fresh hint of her acidic scent helps me battle him back, shoving his wants down. Worry is a stronger emotion than lust.
My beast wants to bound forward, snatch her from the branch and rut her into the dirt until she has no doubt who she belongs to. My rational side recognizes that she wouldn’t survive her fear or the rutting. Our size difference is startling in this form and not for the first time, I am cognizant of how I must appear to one as small as she. As it is, I just barely manage to keep my cock from slipping out of my pouch. I may fight my beast, but I want a mate as desperately as him.
She sits back against the tree as if afraid I might jump forward and eat her in one bite. Like she will scream just from the sight of me. We will eat her, and she will scream but from pleasure not pain. My beast growls into my mind, asserting his wants. Ever used to the mental battle to fight his influence, I push him back, assessing our little mate.
She is injured, her blood calls to me. It is normally a sweet smell, the calling of prey. When it belongs to my mate? It makes me want to whimper in pain along with her. My eyes track her through the trees as I approach, not wanting to spook her any further. Her pale flesh is almost white over her hands, the tight grip she has on the bark leaving wounds in their place. I want to growl at her for hurting herself, but I don’t, instead I release a calming vibration, one meant only for her.
When the white of her eyes recedes a little, when I can see her relax marginally, I hum deeply, letting it flow from me to her before I back off a few yards. Long agonizing moments span between us, but I can see my vibrations begin to work. I do it again, at a much lower octave this time. I’m not sure if she hears me or not but she visibly relaxes. I bite back an amused chuff when she places her human weapon between us, despite her posture. Brave little human.
Pride for my mate makes the spikes on my back and legs preen, standing straight up. To my amusement I can feel their filaments begin to crackle with energy, no doubt ready to glow a bright hue, the color will remain unknown until I claim her, but one can hope.
I’ve waited a long time for the scent of my mate to reach my snout, so much so that I haven’t truly stopped to think how I feel being mated to a human. Reaching deep into my hearts, I find nothing but joy. All I’ve ever wanted was a mate. Someone to help quiet my riotous inner beast, or rather to help us become harmonious. Someone to love, to cherish. Someone to bring meaning to my life.
Back in my home world I thought that living a simple life with my mate, maybe joining a pack after I’m mated, would be fulfilling. Instead, I’ve been given an alien mate in an alien world and I have no regrets. Even my odd little pack brings me joy. Maybe it is an effect of having everything I’ve ever known ripped away from me, but I can’t find it in me to care. I will grasp my good fortune with my claws and never let her go.
Even with my beast lying dormant in my mind, biding his time, my baser instincts rush to overwhelm me. They demand that I provide her with anything she might need, and the scent of her blood has my saliva glands near to bursting. My healing salve rushes forward until a little dribbles from the corner of my mouth.
My little mate is unlikely to let me lick her, even as she tries to heal herself, she never takes her eyes from me for long, as if afraid I might attack. Frustration fills me as I consider my options. The translator in my mind doesn’t work two ways. I can understand her, but she can’t understand me. I can’t tell her that my saliva will heal her wounds, that I mean her no harm. To her I am a monster, a beast straight from her nightmares.
