บท 10: Chapter 10: Touching an Alien
Finding nothing, she sat back and bit her lip as she regarded his muscled calves. It seemed rude to just run her hands over his body. But she had to touch him. Everywhere.
Heat warmed her cheeks.
"Uhm, I'm going to search your legs now." She felt like an idiot, still talking to someone who probably didn't understand a word she said.
Avoiding his gaze, she carefully placed her hand on his lower leg. He was surprisingly warm, his muscles not feeling as stone-like as they had when he'd been unconscious. As her fingers traveled slowly up his calf, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. The menace she'd felt only moments earlier was gone, replaced with something that made her nervous in an entirely different way. A kind of seductive curiosity.
As she patted upward, his leg muscles flexed under her hands. This was the closest she'd come to touching another living being in a very long time and it was shameful how much she enjoyed feeling his heat, his vibrancy. Her ex-fiancé, Andre, was a handsome man but even he wasn't as well built as this silent alien.
She pushed any thought of Andre away and focused on the steel-hard muscles beneath her hands. How had he gotten so toned? Did he work out every hour of every day? Even his knees had muscles.
She finished with his knees but still hadn't found any weapons or transmitting devices. Sitting back on her haunches, she bit her lip so hard she expected to taste blood. Maybe patting him down wasn't such a hot idea. She probably wouldn't recognize an alien weapon even if she found one.
***
Zgaachrr stared at the little human while he waited for his translator to kick in. His tech people had promised this version would work within hours. Yet it'd been one whole Earth day, and he wanted to communicate with the human female. Now.
He jerked his tied hands, enjoying the way she jumped and inched back from him. She'd touched a grenade, his laser pistol, and a sensor bomb, all without even realizing it. And she didn't even hesitate or try to question him about their use. Her finger had even grazed over his self-destruct button, and if it hadn't been calibrated to his touch, she would've blown up her mountain, as well as his ship. At the very least, she should've noticed and taken the weapons off his person.
Instead, she lingered over his legs, almost caressing his muscles, arousing him to the point where he wanted to break loose of the primitive bonds holding him and forget about getting to know her first.
She was the only pleasing thing he'd found on this backward planet with its puny inhabitants. He especially liked the silk growing out of her head. Hair, he remembered. They called it hair. Her hair and eyes reminded him of the sky on his planet. They were so mesmerizing, he had trouble looking away. In his study of this planet, he'd learned they called the color brown in their primitive language.
The conquest of this planet was an insult to his warrior's pride. The inhabitants barely clung to a civilization that had all but collapsed. They wouldn't provide any resistance to conquest.
Yet, she would make the change in plans worth it. He'd forget his original plans of conquering the more worthy planet they'd been on their way to, before that damn black hole had sucked them in.
He flexed his muscles, delighted by the way she flinched at his every move.
If their leader, Zyghrczryn, saw her, he might try to claim her. A weak female like her would be the perfect tool for the Leader to redeem his honor. But Zacar would make sure that didn't happen. The Parenadorz, mostly called, The Zyrgin, might be powerful, but Zacar was going to keep this female all to himself.
***
The alien looked at her with even more intensity, which she hadn't thought possible.
Natalie stretched out her hand in a pleading gesture. "Please talk to me. Are you alone here? Why did you come to Earth?"
She shook her head at her own naiveté. He wasn't going to politely tell her where to locate his tracking devices or how to destroy them. Or if his friends were on their way right now.
As she'd expected, he didn't answer her, just looked from her to his thighs. He knows. He knows I don't want to touch him there.
Determined not to show him any weakness, she reached out and gripped his hard thigh. Muscles rippled under her hand, and she couldn't help but notice a bulge grow at the junction of his legs. Her face burned hotter than the coal she used to heat her washing bowl. This alien definitely had the attributes of a human male and, apparently, the same responses.
Hoping he wouldn't understand the surge of heat in her face, she continued to stroke, no pat, his thighs. But no matter how she touched or prodded, she couldn't find any trace of weapons or transmitting devices. At the very least, she would have liked to find the sword that had appeared in his hand as if by magic. If he managed to make it appear again, he could cut himself loose, and then -
She resisted the urge to cover her throat with her hand.
Tipping her head, she looked from his waist to his ankles, carefully skimming the still bulging area between his legs.
I really hope he can't read my thoughts.
If he had a sword hidden on him somewhere, she really didn't know where. His clothes were molded to his muscled body like a second skin.
He moved his arms and, startled, she scrambled back from him, emitting a wild squawk and almost losing her grip on the shotgun. Yet, he didn't even blink while his eyes tracked her every move. Had he done it on purpose?
If only I could stay on this side of the cave and just hope he doesn't have weapons.
Warily keeping an eye on his hands and feet, she inched forward again. Tied up as he was, he couldn't reach for any hidden weapons, she hoped, but tracking devices could bring the kind of trouble she didn't need. Her hands trembled. Why couldn't he look away, glance stoically off into the distance or something? She moved her hands up his chest and tugged at what looked like pockets.
It was maddening. They looked like pockets, and she was sure there was something in them, but she simply couldn't find a way to open them. Maybe the strange fabric of his shirt didn't just look like metal. Maybe it really was metal.
Natalie stroked his chest, felt a vein pulsing, and absently followed its course across his skin. The alien's muscles hardened further and she could feel her cheeks burning again.
"Can you understand me?" she asked.
His expression remained intense, his eyes unflinching. Maybe his species communicated through telepathy or something. Great, so he's been reading every thought in my head.
She groaned inwardly and got to her feet with stiff, awkward movements. Grace was beyond her with her muscles aching so much. At a loss about what to do next, she grabbed the shotgun and stood facing him. She was so tired she could fall asleep just standing there, but she forced herself to make one more effort to communicate with him.
"Do you understand English?"
He just stared, so she tried Spanish, then bits and pieces of French she'd learned as a child. Nothing. Feeling like Jane from an ancient Tarzan movie she'd once seen, she pointed to herself and said, "Natalie."
Still, he stared at her.
"I don't know if you meant to save me," she said, shifting awkwardly under his glare, "but I want to thank you for rescuing me from those animals. I know you must be mad at me for hitting you in the head, but you scared me." Could he hear the sincerity in her voice?
Nothing but that unblinking gaze.
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