The noise is coming from a couple tangled and intertwined against an enormous oak tree that towers above the rest of the woods.
I can’t see much of the woman – a tall hulk of a man covers her body. His pants are partially pulled down, exposing his thrusting ass. His body is a map of sinewy muscles flexed with primal exertion. The woman has her legs wrapped around his waist, her ankles crossed over the small of his back. Dappled sunlight dances on their unified forms, capturing the glow of sweat on their flushed skin and the rouge blush of desire on her flushed cheeks.
Searing heat builds in my belly as I watch the captivating scene unfolding before me. The man sweeps the unbuttoned shirt off the woman’s shoulder, exposing her lacy bra. I watch, entranced, as he leans towards her, inhaling the scent of her skin before covering her lace-covered nipple with his mouth. His thrusts never waver or slow as he sucks on her peaked nipple. Matching her moan, my breath hitches as I watch him scoop her breast from the bra and suck it back into his mouth. My blood starts to simmer, a raw emotion fluttering within me, mirroring her audible delight.
The woman’s head is thrown back, her eyes are closed, and her expression is a canvas of ecstasy. Her face is tilted to the sun, where the light showcases the passionate flush of her skin. The woman gasps loudly, running her hand through the man’s hair and using her grip to pull his mouth up to hers.
Realizing that I’m being a voyeur, I take a quick step back, hiding my body behind the tree, but I find myself unable to walk away like I should. Watching the couple, something inside me trembles, touched by their genuine affection and ardor. This isn’t just sex; it’s passion and raw emotion and soul-deep intimacy.
The scene grounds me on the spot, my mind rattling with an uncanny blend of shock, bewilderment, and burning envy. Somehow, I’m rooted like a statue, unable to look away from the raw display of emotions unveiling before my wide, captivated eyes.
The low growl of protest emanating from my beloved cat brings me back to the present: I’m not alone, and I’m squeezing the hell out of my feline companion. The noise jolts me back to reality, and I duck out of view behind the oak tree, my lungs working like a bellows in fear and residual yearning. The reality of my situation crashes into me, the solid weight of Mango in my trembling hands serving as a grounding reminder.
I soften my hold on Mango as his tail thrashes wildly. His eyes, usually soft and engaging, are now narrowed and flattened in annoyance – a silent warning.
Guilt immediately hits me, and I loosen my hold around him, murmuring, “I’m sorry, baby.” Listening to hear if my presence was noticed, I bury my face into his plush fur, smelling the underlying scent of home and comfort. I allow myself a moment to simply be with Mango before my attention shifts back to the pressing matters at hand.
Peeking back around the thick tree trunk hiding me, I can see a couple, still deeply engrossed in each other’s company. From the increasing intensity of their moans and the force of their movements, I’m guessing they’re about to hit the ‘conclusion’ of their tryst. Their ecstatic moans and intimate whispers fill the still air, making my heart clench. I don’t think Marcus and I were ever like that, even in the beginning. Seeing that couple together only confirms that I made the right choice in breaking up with him.
I withdraw back to the path, taking slow, careful steps to ensure I don’t make any noise. As I hurry down the path back toward civilization, I grin when I hear the woman chanting, “Yes! Yes!”
You get yours, girl. Good for you.
CHAPTER 5
Ravok
Ileave a path of death and destruction in my wake.
The metallic taste of adrenaline buzzes on my tongue as I silently creep along the sterile hallway of this wretched facility. I can sense the faint, almost indistinguishable hum of my ship vibrating through the walls of this building. It is located somewhere above me. I need visual affirmation to discern its exact location. Yet, its familiar energy tugs at the edges of my consciousness, urging me toward freedom. Like a single red thread in a celestial tapestry, it beckons me, pulling me toward escape.
My skin prickles with anticipation. As I proceed, my senses are elevated – tuned into each muted whisper, each stealthy footstep of an approaching human that resonates as clear as a tolling bell.
A uniformed figure steps into the corridor, thunderstruck at the sight of me. Surprise gives way to fear as he fumbles for his weapon. I notice the shift in his stance in a fraction of a second, launching myself forward. His eyes barely have time to widen in surprise before I slam into him with the force of a comet.
A shout goes up behind me as two more males approach at a sprint. As the chaos escalates, one of the panicking men manages to pull the trigger of his weapon. A projectile slams into my shoulder, almost spinning me off my feet. Agony surges through my body as the piercing bolt of hot metal lodges itself into my shoulder. Pain radiates white-hot through my veins. Shaking my head to dispel the pain, I know that the nanites coursing through my bloodstream shall reverse this damage, but only if I can break free from my captors. With a roar of rage, I quickly dispatch the two males with ease. The sterile, bleached walls of the hallway quickly become splattered in red blood, painting a grotesque abstract tableau in my wake. But the hum, the call of my ship, soars above the cacophony.
An ear-splitting siren begins to blare overhead, making me cringe. As I sprint toward the silver doors of an elevator, my enhanced senses can hear warriors gathering around the corner, preparing to attack.
One of the males peeks around the corner, pointing his weapon at me. Knowing what to expect this time, I easily duck out of the path of the projectile. Raising my stolen weapon, I wait for the male to peek around the corner again. The moment he does, I aim and return fire. The spray of red as I hit my target is very satisfying. That should keep them all back long enough for me to escape.
I turn my attention back to the closed metal doors before me. My gaze locks on the steel barriers that are keeping me imprisoned. I step forward, flexing my hand and unsheathing my claws. I send my nanites to my muscles to increase my strength. With a deep growl, I wedge my fingers into the narrow crack between the elevator doors. I put every ounce of my might into prying them open. The doors scream a protest as I pry them apart. Amid the chaos, the siren continues to scream like a wild kriuven beast above my head.
I look into the darkened abyss of the transportation shaft. The male voices behind me are growing louder. I hear them calling to one another, gearing up for a coordinated attack. These fools still don’t know that I can understand their words. I listen as they plan their attack on me. It’s a cacophony of terror and violence. I know what I must do.
I swing into the dark elevator cavity, find a handhold in the grimy wall, and hoist myself up into the shaft. I pull myself up, clutching the steel, and begin to climb.
CHAPTER 6
Lily
Ihurry back through the path with Mango tucked under my arm. It only takes a few minutes before I find myself back in the midst of the festival. Thankfully, my erratic breathing and flushed cheeks are the only signs of my foray into voyeurism. While I was gone, the band had begun performing, and music fills the air. I nod along, tapping my foot to the rhythm and pulse of the music. They’re playing a lively, infectious tune that has the crowd bobbing their heads. I linger for a few minutes, leaning against a tree at the edge of the crowd, with Mango sniffing the tree’s base like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever discovered.
After a while, I shake myself from my music-induced trance and check the time. I should get back on the road – I want to get a bit further down the road before I look for a pet-friendly hotel for the night. I look around one last time, taking in the happy crowd as the music plays in the background, the lingering notes tugging at my heartstrings.
As I make my way back towards my parked car, I notice a few canopied tents lined up on a side street. These makeshift stalls are laden with various handcrafted items, catching my attention. There are handwoven baskets, intricate pieces of pottery, and delicate silver trinkets twinkling in the late afternoon light. An idea begins to germinate in my mind. Perhaps I could find a gift for Aunt Zizi – as a thank you for taking me in.
I approach the stalls, my eyes sweeping over the assortment of gifts. Aunt Zizi has always admired all things unique and beautifully crafted. Wouldn’t she love a souvenir from this peculiar town? It seems like the perfect way to express my gratitude for opening her home to me in my time of need.
I cruise along, glancing at all the items on the wooden tables. I sniff a few bars of handmade soaps, picking out a couple to create a gift basket for Zizi. Then I choose two for myself: orange ginger and lavender.
Ambling along the tables, another stall catches my eye, boasting arrays of colorful fabrics strung on a line. My gaze zeroes in on a jhola bag that seems to call out my name. The hand-embroidered flowers make it look bohemian and rustic, which I know Aunt Zizi will love. A smile tugs the corners of my mouth upwards as I picture Aunt Zizi’s eyes lighting up when I give it to her. Knowing her love for anything handmade and unique, this is just the kind of accessory that would add to her hodgepodge of mismatched socks and an adventurous spirit. My fingers close around the soft fabric, and I feel a thrill. I sigh softly, knowing how much Aunt Zizi would appreciate this gesture.
I’m down to the last tent in the row. Above the table is a banner that reads, ‘The Malachite Maid.’ My heart skips a beat, a sense of anticipation and thrill washing over me. Childhood memories of rock collecting with my father flood back suddenly, gripping my heartstrings with fond nostalgia. I reckon it’s maybe a sign from the universe.
The table is covered in rocks and gems of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Their irresistible shimmer catches the light and invites me closer. From purple amethyst to citrine, which matches Mango’s amber eyes, to the namesake green malachite, the table displays a rainbow of colors.
The booth is staffed by a woman in a wrap dress that is the same deep green as the malachite. It looks like it was pulled directly from the disco era. A calm serenity oozes from every pore of the woman’s being. Her raven-black hair is braided into two long tails that are woven through with thin copper wire and studded with a rainbow of small stones. Her bright eyes, a similar shade as her dress, glow with delight as she observes the festival.
“Hello there!” she greets me with a warm smile as I peruse her stock. “Let me know if you have any questions.” I smile and dip my chin in acknowledgment; I pause mid-nod when my attention is drawn toward a slight movement on her shoulder. A pet lizard suns itself on her shoulder. I do a double-take at the unexpected sight. I quickly scoop up Mango and cradle him, ensuring my inquisitive cat doesn’t mark the lizard as prey.
With a deep breath, I give the rocks on display my full attention.
“Mango, buddy, what do you think? Do you see anything that Aunt Zizi would like?” I find myself whispering to the feline. My fingers brush over a particularly radiant piece of jasper that is the same bright red as the flower that is my aunt’s namesake.
