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Keeping constant watch on the tigerman, I inch along the edge of the cell. The alien observes me, but doesn’t do or say anything, which is comforting.
Once I’m next to the bucket, which, thankfully, is still empty, I heave a sigh. Chewing on my lip, I try to figure out how to use it without showing everything to the alien, but no solution miraculously presents itself.
I freeze when he moves. Instead of getting up and coming toward me, though, he simply pivots on the floor until he sits with his back to me. Giving me privacy. I’m so overwhelmed by gratitude I’d start crying if it wasn’t for the urgent need to relieve myself. I shelve the tears for later and use the damn bucket.
“Stupid aliens,” I mutter as I move away from the bucket. “They have fucking spaceships but can’t even put a fucking toilet into their fucking cells?”
The tigerman chuckles. Like his voice, his laugh is low and sort of growly, but not unpleasant. I chuckle too, a little hysterically. Then the alien growls for real.
The deep, threatening sound reverberates through the cell, and I squeak in fear. The growl isn’t aimed at me, though.
The door to the cellblock opens again and the two guards enter, pushing a large, softly humming cart that hovers a few inches off the floor.
My tired mind immediately begins conjuring up all of the terrible things they’re going to do to me this time and tears stream from my eyes. I’ve always considered myself a strong woman, able to deal with anything, but this situation is becoming too much to handle. I sniffle through the tears, knowing that I’m about to start wailing in despair yet I’m powerless to stop it.
The tigerman leaps to his feet and is standing next to me within a heartbeat. He puts his hand over my mouth, gently but decisively, then wraps his other arm around me. Murmuring soothing words, he pulls me into his chest, holding me tight.
He’s hot. Physically hot, as if his species’ normal temperature runs several degrees hotter than that of humans. I hadn't even realized how cold I was before he pulled me into his furnace-like embrace. It’s so pleasant that any thoughts of fighting him evaporate from my mind.
As I relax against him, he lets go of my mouth, running his thumb over my cheek to wipe my tears off. “Rageza gahar, Myále,” he whispers into my hair. The words are sharp and growly but said in such a way that I have no doubts they’re meant to calm me. To my surprise, it works. Soon, I’m calm enough to peek around his body. Not over his shoulder, because he has at least a foot of height on me, but he lets me lean to the side to see what’s happening in the cells.
To my relief, the guards haven’t come for me. Pushing the hovering cart before them, they stop at each cell, giving out supplies. The more humanoid aliens get bottles of water, the animal-looking ones are given bowls.
My former neighbor, the panda bear, gets an enormous pile of fresh bamboo. God only knows how the aliens got it. Did they mow down a bamboo forest before leaving Earth? Do they have their own bamboo grove growing somewhere on the ship? Or do they have some super-advanced replication device, like in Star Trek?
When the gray aliens reach the cell I now share with the tigerman, he gently pushes me to stand behind his back, shielding me from them. Another thoughtful gesture I wasn’t expecting.
They place a couple of water bottles and some wrapped packages into our cell. The tigerman doesn’t deem it enough because he protests, pointing at himself, then at me, arguing in his growly language. The guards speak a different language, smoother but also strangely bare of emotions. Despite that, they understand each other so well that I’m beginning to suspect they have some kind of device implanted to translate for them. Of course, nobody has bothered to give me one, so I’m out of the loop.
Annoyed, the guards add more food packages and bottles to our pile before moving along.
I release a long, deep sigh, grateful not only that the guards left me alone this time but also that they haven’t harmed the tigerman. When he began arguing with them, I’d fully expected them to whip out the remote and torture the hell out of him. I don’t know why they didn’t but am glad for it, nonetheless.
Once the guards move further away, the tigerman pulls me into his arms again. Too tired to do anything but keep myself from sobbing out loud, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his hot, firm chest, hoping he won’t protest or attack me for it.
A shudder runs through him but he doesn’t move. He merely tightens his embrace, murmuring more calming words that I don’t understand. The soft rumble in his chest is soothing, and soon I’m dozing off, my legs growing too weak to keep me upright anymore. It doesn’t matter that I’m naked in the arms of a stranger or that his half erect cock pokes at my stomach. My body has simply decided enough is enough and begun shutting down unnecessary functions in order to conserve energy.
Just before I collapse on the floor, the alien scoops me into his arms. I’m not the thinnest girl on the block, but he’s holding me as if I weigh little to nothing.
A strong guy with a big cock. What more could a girl wish for?
I fail to smother my near hysterical giggle. Damn, my mind is in the gutter.
Chapter 7
Tareq
I gently lower the sleeping female onto the floor. She’s so exhausted she literally fell asleep standing up. My heart aches for her, thinking about all of the terrible things she must have gone through.
My cock aches for her too, for different reasons. Two of those reasons are now hidden from my view as the female curls up on the floor, but the third, her soft behind, is clearly visible, making my cock weep with need. If I’d held her any longer, I’d have come in my pants like a cub that has barely come of age. Why does she have such an effect on me?
I’m no stranger to the female body. I’ve been with Syndoran females as well as with females from other species. It’s always a quick encounter without attachment. Being a member of an elite UGC squad doesn’t bode well for long term relationships, but it doesn’t stop me from having fun.
Yet, none of the females I’ve been with have ever filled me with as much desire as this human. Perhaps it’s because I know I can’t have her. I’ll be lucky if I can convince her to trust me enough to not flinch whenever I move. Having sex with her is completely out of the question.
She whimpers in her sleep, and I crouch down next to her, running my hand through her beautiful red hair. It’s rich and a little wavy, flowing down below her shoulders. As she sleeps, a few strands fall onto her face, and I gently brush them away so I can watch her sleep.
“You’re safe. Sleep well, Myále,” I whisper, once again subconsciously using an endearment the Syndorans usually reserve for their mates. I don’t know why I’ve done that. It’s not like she could ever become my mate.
