Ruth's Bonded (Ruth & Gron Book 1) (7 page)

Why had they done all that, been
seriously injured, some of them, just to take her clothes? Were her clothes
valuable to them? Could they get information about Earth from them somehow? She
knew she would never puzzle out what an alien might want cheap cotton and
polyester for, for all she knew it was like moon dust to them, selling for millions
on alien eBay, or it acted as fuel in their fusion reactor or something. They’d
even taken her watch. Had they taken her
just
for her clothes? But then
why wait three days before cutting them off her? Had they been waiting for her
to take them off on her own and grown impatient?

She really didn’t think her nakedness
was a sexual thing for them, not after they’d fled like bats out of hell as
soon as they’d got her clothes. Would it be a sexual thing for Gron? Did that
make her afraid? It could be that he hadn’t realised she was female with her
body covered up. It could still be that his species didn’t have females that
looked like her, or didn’t require the male-female binary for reproduction.
Maybe his kind had breeding seasons or rituals or rules that she was not a part
of. She probably didn’t have the right pheromones. Maybe he didn’t find her
attractive.

For all of this, though, she knew it
boiled down to if he wanted to force her, he could. She didn’t stand a chance
against his size and obvious strength. So far though, he had not been violent
or lecherous towards her, not in any way she recognised at least. In fact, he
had actively and repeatedly avoided her touching him. She didn’t think her
being naked would change the way he treated her. She realised she had a kind of
faith in him. Not trust exactly but she felt like she had learned enough to
accurately predict him. Or she hoped she had anyway.

She didn’t want to be naked. She was
cold now. The cell was temperate enough to be okay with clothes on, but not
without. She had goosebumps and she felt as if the metal was leeching the heat
from her. She was still modest enough to be seriously uncomfortable. Ruth
didn’t get naked in front of other people very often. Gron had been naked this
entire time, but it never seemed to bother him. Maybe his people didn’t wear
clothes. He probably thought very little of the fact that she was now naked,
but that didn’t mean she could just relax.

She remembered the feel of being
unable to move while little hands and big blades stripped her. That memory
wasn’t going away any time soon. They hadn’t used the blades in the fight, even
though Gron could very easily have killed them. Why? The only answer she could
think of was that they didn’t want to kill, or risk killing, them. That implied
they needed them for something. Ruth turned her face to the wall and tried not
to cry again as she tried to imagine what that something might be.

Gron groaned as he dragged his knee
under himself to take some weight off his shaking arms. The effect of the
sticks was still weakening him. Gruth had recovered and withdrawn to the other
side of the cell, out of his sight, but he was still struggling. She had
ignored him when he called to her. That was fair. He had failed. He had not
been strong enough to protect her. She would not want him now.

Right then he had the strength of a
newborn as he dragged himself to rest against the wall, shame and self-loathing
swirling in his stomach, making him sick. He had known they were coming. He had
heard and smelled that there was too many, before they had even opened the
hatch. Not knowing how else to protect her, he had moved Gruth into the corner
and stood over her, ready to fight.

He did not know why they came to hurt
him with their sticks, but he had never had to protect anyone before. It made
him careful. But there had been too many and he had fallen, and they had still
got to her.

Before the attack, Gruth had been
sitting with him, as she had done the day before, talking in her own language.
He guessed she was talking about her home, or what rituals he would have to
follow to become one of her males. He did not understand, but he wished he did.
The more used to her voice he got, the more lovely it sounded to him. She must
have thought he was intelligent to think he was worth talking to, that maybe
eventually he would learn her language, but it was difficult.

Their relationship was strange. She
did not ask anything of him, she had stopped trying to touch him, but still she
came to sit near him and speak to him. It seemed to be important to her that
they eat together, at the same time, near each other, so he tried to comply. It
was difficult because normally the Queens would eat first, and only when they
had had their fill would the males eat. He remembered how she had insisted he
eat from her food, which would have had him punished in his own tribe. He was
so often torn between following the traditions of his people and obeying the
Queen in front of him. He supposed to defy her would have been the worst thing
he could do. And the way she bared her teeth at him. It had a dangerously
captivating effect, which he supposed was her intention. Another of her
seductions. He had not meant anything by it when he copied her, was merely
trying to gage her reaction, which did not appear to be positive. It was
confusing.

She had been in the cell with him for
such a short time, but he already felt life returning to him, his mind being
stimulated again and elevated past the animal level he had sunk to through
isolation and violence. He knew that even if he did not Bind himself to her, he
could not go back to being alone.  He could not allow her to be taken from him.
He would not. He wished he could say it was for her sake, and undoubtedly if he
let his captors take her away it would not be pleasant for her, but his main
concern was selfish.

But then he had failed. He had been
so scared, but so determined to fight. He was going to make them regret
entering their cell. But they had got to her anyway, while he was on the floor,
as useless as a child. When she had armed herself with one of their sticks, he
knew he had failed as her protector. She thought him too weak, she knew he
would lose. Her cry when they finally caught her felt like the last thing he would
ever hear. He would have given away the rest of his life to have been able to
save her then. They had hurt her and he had been unable to stand for her.

The pain of the four sticks buried in
him kept him on the floor. Even now, the memory was like a ringing in his
nerves. He had watched as her two attackers drew blades and knelt beside where
she lay, unable to move from the stings she had received. They cut through her
coverings and he was sure he would watch them eat her, kill her, remove some
part of her. But they had not. They had only taken the fabric and disappeared.

That confused him, but he did not
question it. He only thanked the Mother Goddess from the bottom of his heart
for hearing his prayers and preserving her. She had been hurt by the sticks,
but he knew from experience that that was only temporary. She would live. She
would be as she always had. Whole.

He still had hope, then. He had hope
that they would recover from the attack, and the damage would not be much. He
looked to her, trying to struggle himself to her, so he could check her wounds
and rub his pelt against her skin, so she would know she had a male. But she
was not looking at him. She was struggling to move, but she would not look at
him. She would not acknowledge him when he spoke to her, not even when he
called her name. She recovered more motion than he did and removed herself,
away from him to the side of the cell that had become hers. The message was
clear: she wanted nothing more to do with him. He had failed. He had proven himself
to be weak and unable to protect her and as a result she had been touched by
those creatures. She had discovered he was not worthy.

He moaned as he fought his body
across to the wall. He had wanted to save her. He had wanted her to look at him
and bare her teeth in that strange way, to try to touch him again. He couldn’t
let the Bond form, but the selfish parts of him liked it that she tried. 
Perhaps he would have let her fingers brush his skin for a moment before
stopping them. He liked the way her voice sounded when she bared her teeth,
like when the children of the tribe would play in the sunshine.

That was over now. Now he would have
to endure her silence and disappointment and reproach until their time in this
cell ended, whenever that would be. He would have to let her go, and meet his
fate knowing he had failed her.

Gron reached the wall and collapsed
against it. He had no energy, and no will to fight anymore. He bore one last
look at her; he had to see if she was improving, how she was faring. Her bare
skin gave him pause. He knew she would look different from him - she already
did – but to have no pelt at all? Perhaps that was why she wore the coverings.
She must suffer scratches and grazes from the slightest thing. Her long mane
hung down her back providing some cover, but not much. The bones of her spine
raising her skin was alarming, he had never seen that before. He could see her
ribs too. He could see no muscle on her and wondered if she was malnourished.
He suddenly felt very bad about taking the morsel she had offered him from her
rations. He noticed as well that she had no tail. If he was right about her
coming from a tribe that lived off the fruits of the ocean, her smooth skin
would ease her passage through the water and dry more quickly. With no tail,
she could not be from the trees as he was.

She was sitting hunched away from
him, but he had already seen enough to know she was mature. Perhaps young, but
mature. She did not look like she had borne many children though, and the idea threaded
through his mind again that perhaps she had not mated yet, not yet gathered her
harem. Perhaps she was captured because she had only just left her tribe and
was alone. She was very brave to attempt to Bind him so quickly, if that was
the case.

Even if she had no other males, she
still knew that he was not strong enough. Even with no other males to protect
and care for her in this place, she would not take him. That cut him deeply,
but he deserved it, he knew. He had failed. She was still now. Her shoulders
were not shaking with sobs and her breathing was controlled and steady. He
could rest.

He allowed his shoulders to slide
along the wall until he lay on the ground, and he fell asleep, thinking of her
back turned to him.

Ruth was cold. The adrenaline of the
attack had left her, and she had nothing left to eat or drink. Food was clearly
being withheld, either as punishment or because they were too busy treating
their wounded. She hoped vindictively that it was the latter, but she recognised
that it didn’t make a difference. She was still hungry. If it was the latter
though, food might come sooner. She was shaking quite badly now. She didn’t
want to be, but it was like she couldn’t get over it, couldn’t calm down. She’d
really thought for a moment that she was going to be sexually assaulted by a
group of aliens, while the only person who could help her was pinned to the
floor two feet away.

She looked over to where Gron lay. If
she was being charitable, she’d say he’d passed out. If she was being mean,
she’d say he’d fallen asleep. She wished she could sleep, but she couldn’t
bring her body to unbend. She wasn’t sure if she should go over and check on
him. He’d taken a lot more than she had. He might be seriously hurt. On the
other hand, what could she do? She didn’t know what his pulse should be, or
even where to find it on him. If he wasn’t breathing, she didn’t know how to
revive him. Try to copy the Kiss of Life she’d seen on TV? She sighed. She
should probably get over herself and at least go and see if he was alive. If he
was asleep or unconscious, she didn’t have to worry about being naked. She
could get back over to huddle against the wall without him ever seeing her
body.

She really hoped he was alive. He
seemed to have been recovering when she’d left him, but she really didn’t want
to be held in a cell with a dead body. That would be nightmarish. She also
didn’t want to lose him. Ruth didn’t know if she could exactly call him a
friend, but he was, in many ways, her partner. They were in the same situation,
with the same goals, as far as she knew. And he was kind of cute, and funny
when he tried to copy her to communicate. He’d fought almost to the death to
protect her.

She was halfway across the cell when
she noticed he was breathing. She could go back now.

She went closer.

His body was covered with welts from
the sticks, and his skin looked shiny with sweat. His breathing was not like it
had been before when he slept, now it was shallow and uneven.

Ruth was still painfully aware that
she was naked. Should she wake him or let him rest? The truth was, she’d really
like it if he was awake. He couldn’t say anything to make her feel better, but
listening to him try would distract her at least. She wanted his dark, calm
eyes to be looking her as he rumbled soothingly. She wanted things to be how
they were before, that morning, yesterday... Had she really only been there for
three days?

Waking him would be mean. She should
let him recover from his ordeal. But she couldn’t go back to sit naked and cold
on her side of the cell and just wait through the hours it took him to wake up.
She reached out and softly brushed the back of his hand with her fingers.

“Gron...” she whispered. Nothing. He
was out. She tried again, shaking his hand a little harder. She felt like a kid
who’d had a nightmare trying to wake their parent, and it made her feel
ridiculous, but the cell felt too quiet and too dark and now she’d started
trying she just really wanted him to wake up. Giving up on his hand, she reached
tentatively for his side. “Gron...”

As soon as her fingers touched him he
flinched and bolted awake. He crouched defensively, clearly braced for an
attack, blinking at her as his half-asleep mind tried to make sense of what he
was seeing. She held up her hands as if to show she was unarmed, trying to keep
her breasts hidden behind her knees. Gron looked around the cell and at the
hatch, then back at her when he didn’t find a threat. Ruth noticed he hadn’t
moved as quickly or as confidently as she was used to. He must still be sore.

He was clearly confused, and she felt
bad for scaring him. She wrapped her arms around herself and mimed shivering,
rubbing her hands up and down. His eyes dropped to her breasts. Okay, not her
intention. She was getting stiff from how tightly she was huddled trying to
shield everything.

“I’m cold,” she said, knowing full
well that it wouldn’t make a difference. “Gron.” She reached for his hand
again, and he pulled it back an inch or two. She almost groaned. She was
getting nowhere. Everything sucked. She was cold and hungry and hadn’t had
anything to drink in hours and was it
so bad
that she just wanted to
cuddle and take a nap?! She’d had a pretty bad time of it so far, and she was
prepared to settle for holding hands for a few seconds, but she was still being
shirked like a leper. She was going to lose her freaking mind if he didn’t bend
a little on this. She refused to believe he came from a society that never
touched ever under any circumstances, and even if he was, she’d really
appreciate it if he could get over it for now and just wash his hands when they
got out of this damn cell!

It suddenly occurred to her that he
might be married, or the alien equivalent thereof, and that was why touching
her was such a no-no. He could have a Mrs Gron back at the ranch, and a handful
of Gron Juniors, waiting for Daddy to come home, and he wanted to be able to do
that with a clean conscience. He probably wanted to be able to tell the woman
he loved that he hadn’t touched another woman while he’d been away, and she was
trying to ruin that for him.

But no, he’d touched her before. It
was only when she tried to touch him that he had a problem.

The hell with it
, she thought. She wasn’t trying to
get into his non-existent pants, and this was about survival. He might be
misinterpreting her actions, but he’d figure it out when nothing happened. At
this point, she was ready to back him into a corner if she had to. Chasing him
around the cell would keep her warm at least. She didn’t think he’d really
attack her, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

Ruth reached for his hand again, a
little faster. Not snatching, but not obviously giving him the opportunity to
pull away either. She got him this time, but he didn’t seem to be pulling away.
The fur on the back of his hand felt strange under her palm. It was coarse and
thick, but his fingers and palm were just like a human man’s. He said something
to her, and it sounded important, but she didn’t know how to react. He could
have been saying anything. He was looking at her like he was asking her to do
something, or not to do it, without any hope of getting his way. Well, engaging
in a taboo would probably get a reaction like that.

She moved closer, lifting his arm and
turning her back to his chest. He was so warm. She could feel the heat coming
off him and she wasn’t even skin-to-skin with him, the tips of the fur on his
chest were only tickling her back. She pulled his arm around to lay it on her
stomach. It was heavy and bulked up with muscle. Gron wasn’t holding her,
barely even touching her except where she positioned him, but he didn’t pull
away. Ruth sighed as his warmth slowly soaked into her, relaxing her tense
muscles and just letting her know another person was
there
. Gron said
something again, sounding choked.

“I know, big guy,” she murmured back
to soothe him. “I know you don’t want to do this, but just a little longer
please...” Oh yeah, she could definitely sleep like this. She felt cruel forcing
him, but she wasn’t going to have sex with him, and if Mrs Gron got pissed, he
could just tell her it was necessary to keep Ruth going.

She let herself slip back against
him, and he moaned, followed by some more grunting words. Maybe she had it
wrong, and he was actually like a celibate monk, and she was testing his vows
or something. But she didn’t think she was turning him on because there was
nothing poking her and his arm was still totally lax around her waist. He
wasn’t trying for a feel at all. He was probably just disgusted by her - small,
bald, tail-less human that she was – and manfully enduring her to be nice until
he could get away. She’d take it. He was like a fur rug in front of a fireplace
and she was the cat right now. She stroked his forearm absently, running her
nails through the fur, and he shuddered.

She opened her eyes again, knowing
she should disengage from him and leave him in peace, but she didn’t want to
leave the warm for the cold. At least she’d stopped shaking now and felt strong
enough emotionally to take care of herself for a bit. She lifted his arm off
her stomach and peeled herself away. She smiled back at him. He looked confused
and a little stunned.

“Thanks,” she said. “I feel better
now.”

He grumbled and lurched forward, as
if he’d been meaning to follow her then been struck by uncertainty.

Now she was unsure. Did he want to
keep cuddling? Maybe he got something out of it after all. She smiled, and held
out her hand as a test. If he wanted to hold her some more, she might actually
be able to sleep. He looked at her hand, then took it, almost as if touch had
never been a problem for him. She grinned. She moved closer again and gently
nudged him so that he would lie down with his back against the wall, then she
lay down with her back against his chest. She picked up his arm and draped it
over her waist, then gently shifted her weight so that she was leaning on him,
and he was leaning on the wall.

“Okay?” she asked, looking over her
shoulder at him. He rumbled something and lightly brushed the hair away from
her face and neck. She jumped when something fluffy crawled over her hip,
having forgotten that he had that extra limb. He bent his arm under her head
for her to use as a pillow, then shuffled down so that he could burrow his face
into her hair and neck, inhaling deeply, his massive chest almost pushing her
off him if he hadn’t been holding her to him.

As he settled down to sleep,
apparently content, his thankfully soft genitals brushing her thighs, she was
suddenly afraid she had initiated something she didn’t understand. He had
clearly changed his mind about them touching, but why? What did he think they
were now? Cellmates? Friends? He wasn’t making moves to have sex with her, but
he was spooning like a pro.

She wasn’t going to interrupt his
sleep for a second time. Not when they couldn’t talk about what was going on.
This was what she wanted, a warm, pliant place to sleep. If he did anything she
didn’t like, she would stop him. She didn’t think she would end up breaking his
heart at any rate. If she had to correct him, or they had to separate when they
escaped, it would just be a misunderstanding. It wasn’t like she would cause
him irreparable emotional damage. They’d only known each other for three days.