AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Glancing over my shoulder, I see his eyes are shut and wrinkles line his forehead. He looks like he’s hurting.
Or needs to take a shit, I think with a tiny smile.
I walk in slow tight circles, trying to see if something might be physically wrong with him.
Standing at almost six and a half feet tall, his skin color is light blue (maybe grayish blue?), making him strikingly unique. The half-wolfish form makes him appear animalistic as shaggy black hair frames his face. Pointed ears twitch independently as he stands with corded arms folded across a muscled chest. Hard ridges run down his back, as though something is trying to burst from his skin. Tuffs of blue hair spread across his shoulders and down his outer legs, which are bent oddly at the knees.
This is the clawed guy who drew my attention as he paced the cage.
As a young girl I’d always had a fascination with werewolves, but I never expected to be standing so close to the alien equivalent on some desolate and dangerous world…
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I ask softly, “What are you?”
His eyes fly open and pierce me with a dark ebony gaze—half animal, half machine. If I stare long enough, I can see sparks igniting.
Stumbling back, I gasp just a little. His lip peels back in a low growl bubbling from his throat, and I get my second look at powerful canine teeth. They’re a little bigger than my dog Henry’s, and a lot sharper.
Something inside me shifts, something instinctual, an aggression that rises up to meet his own, just as it had earlier with the wolf. Stepping forward, chest thrust out, hands balled into fists at my side, I snarl.
“Stop growling at me!”
To my surprise, his upper lip slides back over his teeth, and I relax a little.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping back. I glance around before my eyes shift back to him. “Why are your eyes closed again?”
Given our dire circumstances, his behavior seems a little strange and I really don’t like it.
“The harsh sun hurts my eyes,” he rumbles, startling me.
He’s naked except for the loose white shorts he sports on slender hips.
Would it be acceptable to make a blindfold with them? Let him roam naked in front of me?
I smile just thinking about it, even though I would never do such a thing. If any man—Human or alien—stood naked in front of me, I would die of embarrassment.
Searching for something suitable to cover his eyes is frustrating at best. There are no vines or foliage of any kind. I debate internally, arguing the pros and cons of giving up my own clothing. Finally, I rip the bottom half of my dirty, brown sack dress. It worries me at how easily I can tear the fabric.
“Bend down.” He cracks one weary eye open, peeking at me, then complies with the order.
I step forward to secure the cloth around his face. When my hand brushes his temple, some type of energy, a spark, sets my heart galloping. I feel it all the way to my core, and I want him.
Any other time, I’d jump his bones and—
I freeze, a small breath hissing from between my teeth before I slowly continue to secure the cloth around his eyes.
Those thoughts are not mine. Normally, I’m shy, a loner, and slightly obsessed with the animals on our farm, or buried in a book. I don’t jump bones (not that I’ve really had the chance).
Before I step away, he grabs my wrist, holding it firmly in place. The air tenses, electrifies, my chest heaves up and down. When his nostrils flare, I can tell he’s just as affected as me. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t move, can’t exhale as I hold my breath. I can’t tear my gaze away from his full gray lips as they part slightly, revealing a moist pink tongue. He inhales deeply. Then suddenly a growl rumbles from his chest and I’m shoved to the side, landing on hands and knees.
What the hell?
Glancing back over my shoulder, he springs into motion and stares down a tan wolf with black eyes, even through the blindfold. The same wolf creature who escaped earlier, giving me the chance to run.
Franticly glancing between the two of them, almost physically reeling from the sheer violence they’re both radiating, my heart pounds with excitement as they posture. My lips curl into a smile, and then I frown.
What the hell is wrong with me? I cry in silent horror. I’m not the violent type! At least, I never used to be…
And yet, standing here, waiting for combat to ensue, I feel an alien but distinct thrill of pleasure up my spine and the heat of…desire...between my legs. I want to see them fight, and nothing my rational, original self says in protest is able to push these unfamiliar sensations away.
