The Naked Alien by Honey Phillips (new books to read .txt) 📗

pulled the branch off the fire, her mouth was watering. She burned her fingers and then her mouth, but it was worth it. The meat did taste rather like roast pork, and it was absolutely delicious. It wasn’t until she finally filled her stomach that she looked up and saw him watching her with an odd expression on his face. She blushed.

“I’m sorry. I was just so hungry. I didn’t eat too much, did I?”

He shook his head, and she wondered again whether he was really beginning to understand her words or if he was simply responding to the question in her voice. Before she could explore that thought further, he went to gather the rest of the meat laden branches. These he hung higher over the fire, then covered everything with damp leaves to trap the smoke inside. She realized that he was attempting to preserve the meat, and admiration filled her.

“It’s just amazing that you can do all of these things. If we had more time, I’d ask you to teach me… Although actually, I guess I really don’t know how much time we have left together.” The thought was curiously disheartening, and she went to retrieve her map.

“How long?” she asked, pointing to the small blue circle that she hoped indicated her path home, then waving her hand over what she thought was her arrival point. “Where are we now?”

He studied her face, then indicated a point on the map between her original location and the river. They had covered perhaps two thirds of the distance.

“So another day, perhaps, until we reach the river?”

Assuming that the map was to scale, it looked as if her destination was an equal distance on the other side of the river. That meant perhaps four more days with Tarax. Her heart suddenly ached. It didn’t seem like enough time—she wasn’t ready to let him go so quickly.

Tarax growled a question at her, pointing to the map and then to the far side of the clearing. She decided he was asking her if she wanted to resume their journey.

“I’m fine with waiting until tomorrow,” she said. “This seems like a good spot to spend the night. You can smoke your meat, and I can take another swim in the pool before we set out again.” To reinforce her meaning, she pointed to the edge of the clearing, shook her head, then patted the ground.

He flashed his fierce smile at her before turning to check on the smoking meat, and she knew she was smiling too as she went to put the map away.

Chapter Eight

Satisfaction filled Taraxan as he attended to his food preparation. Between what he could decipher of her words and her attempt at sign language, he was quite sure that Jayn was in no more of a hurry to reach her destination than he was. Once again he spared a fleeting thought for his official duties, but they still seemed far away and much less important than taking care of his female.

And in the interest of taking care of her, although he had no desire to see her luscious body covered, he turned his attention to the fur. Perhaps it would not be too bad—it had not been a large animal and the skin wouldn’t conceal much of her enticing body.

She had done an admirable job cleaning the pelt, and it only took a few scrapes of his knife to remove the few remaining scraps of flesh. Jayn looked on in appalled fascination as he mixed the creature’s brains with water, then rubbed the mixture into the skin to soften and prepare it.

“Now we’ll let it dry,” he told her as he hung the pelt in the trees at the edge of the clearing.

By the time the sun began to set, he was satisfied that he had done all that he could to make sure they were prepared for the rest of their journey. They shared the remnants of the meat he had roasted earlier, then sat watching the banked fire send gentle trails of smoke up into the darkening sky. Mr. Tiddles yawned and disappeared into the shelter, curling up in the leaves with his tail over his face.

Jayn was oddly quiet and he found he missed the sound of her voice. He shot a glance at her from under his brows and caught her stealing a look at him. A delightful tide of pink washed over her cheeks as she ducked her head. He reached out and cupped a burning cheek, gently turning her face to look at him.

Her eyes were wide and dark in the fading light. He had only prepared one resting place—was she afraid that he would press his attentions on her? He bit back a growl at the thought. No honorable make would ever take advantage of a female.

“Do not fear,” he said softly, gesturing at the shelter. “I can sleep outside if you prefer.”

The color on her cheeks deepened as she followed his movement, and he realized that she had misunderstood. But then her hand came up to cover his, and he caught the sweet scent of her arousal. No, she was not afraid. Her lips parted, pink and tempting, and he lowered his head, tentatively brushing his own lips against hers.

She sighed, and then her small tongue stroked his. By the Swords! Arousal streaked through him so quickly that he felt light-headed. His hand flexed against her cheek, holding her in place as he returned the gesture, delving into the heady pleasures of her mouth. Hot and delicious and impossibly soft. She gasped, opening herself to him, and he thrust deeper, devouring her hungrily. When he finally, reluctantly, lifted his head, she was trembling against him and the heady scent of her desire filled the clearing.

“Yourtonguehasridges,” she whispered.

The words didn’t translate and he hesitated, afraid that he had done something wrong despite her enthusiastic response. She pressed a small finger against his mouth until he opened it, then stroked it along