Stud (39 page)

“Well, normal or not, you need to let Walkuta do whatever she can for you,” Tarq said bluntly. He didn’t feel sick himself, but he was beginning to understand why Faletok had sworn off having sex because he was about to do it himself. Getting Lucy with child was one thing. Making her sick was quite another.

“I’m not sure a Zebtan remedy would work on a human,” Lucy said. “It might make me feel even worse.”

Tarq was about to retort when Walkuta cut him off. “No need to worry,” she said calmly. “It is a ritual, not a potion.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, clearly relieved. “A ritual I can handle, just as long as I don’t have to dance or stand on my head or anything weird like that.”

Walkuta seemed slightly offended. “You won’t have to do anything of the sort. The ritual only requires the blood of the father.”

Lucy paled. “All of it?”

“Oh, no,” Walkuta said hastily. “Only a few drops.”

Tarq didn’t hesitate. Whipping out his knife, he pricked his finger with the tip of the blade. “Here, take all you need.”

Walkuta nodded her approval. “You have chosen well. The heart finger will provide the greatest protection.”

Tarq looked at his hand. He’d cut the third finger on his left hand out of convenience, no more. Then he recalled the human custom of wearing a wedding ring on that finger and questioned whether his choice had truly been random.

Walkuta took Tarq’s hand and squeezed more blood from his fingertip. “His blood must make contact with your skin in three places, Lucy. The head, the heart, and the womb.”

“This should be interesting,” Terufen said from his perch on Kotcamp’s shoulders. “Does she need to be naked?”

Kotcamp gave Terufen a bounce. “Hush up. This is serious.”

Walkuta ignored them. Pressing her palms together, she began to chant, presumably in the Zebtan tongue. Her hair swept up on its own accord and twisted into a knot as she bowed her head. When she finished her chant, she motioned for Tarq to proceed.

The head part was easy. Tarq pressed his finger to Lucy’s forehead, leaving behind a smear of blood. Then he undid the top buttons on her shirt and touched between her breasts. He tried not to think about the last time he’d had his hands on her, but since his body was already responding to her scent, this was difficult—as was figuring out how to discreetly touch her “womb.” He glanced at Walkuta, who motioned for him to continue.

The skin of her lower abdomen would have to do in this situation, he reasoned. Pulling up her shirt, he slid his hand down over her stomach, passing beneath her clothing. He stopped when she let out a giggle. “That tickles.”

His heart gave a lurch as he gazed into her big brown eyes and saw not only merriment there but also warmth, tenderness, and a deep, abiding trust. He could’ve held her gaze for hours, but when he pressed his bleeding fingertip to her skin, her eyes squeezed shut and she inhaled sharply. Her knees buckled and she would’ve fallen if he hadn’t been standing close enough to catch her. When she looked up at him, her pupils dilated completely, followed by a constriction so brisk that if he’d blinked, he would’ve missed it. He gasped as the realization struck him that it was the same effect his semen had—on her eyes, anyway.

Walkuta nodded. “It is as I suspected. Zetithian females do not experience the illness of pregnancy because their mate’s semen protects them from it.”

“But how does my blood on her skin help?”

“The same substance is contained in your blood and can be passed on to her through her skin.” Walkuta’s orange gaze fixed on his own. “You have been avoiding this intimacy because you are sleeping in such close proximity with the rest of us, haven’t you?”

Tarq grimaced. “Well, yes, but she hasn’t felt much like it, either.”

Walkuta glanced at Lucy, who was now at least able to stand. Tarq thought her color was a little better, too. “You didn’t become ill until you’d been without him for a day or so, did you?”

Lucy frowned. “I hadn’t put the two together, but now that you mention it, that’s about when it started.”

Tarq found this very encouraging. “So, to keep her from being sick, we have to…?”

Walkuta smiled. “Yes, you have to…”

Terufen was cackling with glee, but Kotcamp took it a step further. Grasping Walkuta’s hand in his furry paw, he kissed it. “Bless you, Walkuta. And thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lucy was blushing. Vertigan and Faletok were grumbling—Faletok for what he was having to do as a result, and Vertigan possibly because he wasn’t getting any—but everyone else seemed pleased.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled, let’s get that qualskin ready to eat,” Natasha said. “I’m starving!”

Kotcamp set Terufen on his feet and changed back into his usual colorless, wispy-haired self. “Sure hope it doesn’t rain again tonight. I really don’t like holding that form for long. All that hair makes me itch.”

Lucy had never been so embarrassed in her life. Not that she wasn’t delighted to have a good reason for making love with Tarq—if you could call it that—but the lack of privacy was freaking her out a bit. She wasn’t sure she could handle knowing that Terufen and Kotcamp were listening. No doubt several of the others would also be listening. At least it would be dark enough that they couldn’t watch.

She reminded herself that they had apparently been listening all along, and with that cheery thought in mind, she went to work clearing out the area beneath the rocky overhang. They’d taken to carrying cripwood boughs with them to use as brooms, as well as for their scent and camouflage, and she and Crilla used them to sweep the floor clean of loose rocks. If there was one thing Lucy had learned on this outing, it was to bed down on a smooth spot. The tiniest pebble would seem like a boulder after laying on it for a while.

She glanced at Tarq, who was shaking flakes of stone out of his sandals. Seemed like they were stuck together on this trip no matter what—she giving him pity fucks and he providing her with a remedy for morning sickness.
What
a
pair…

He looked up at her and smiled. “Feeling better?”

She almost hated to admit it, but she felt perfectly fine. Her feet didn’t even hurt. “Lots,” she replied. “Though I wonder if it would have worked without all the chanting.”

Tarq nodded. “Walkuta has a theatrical streak in her.” He put his sandal back on and stood up. “Half the ‘healing’ is in the show.”

Lucy couldn’t argue with that. As rituals went, it had been fairly dramatic. “Speaking of healing, I’m sorry you had to cut your finger, but we couldn’t have sex right there in front of God and everybody just to prove she was right.”

Tarq grinned wickedly. “Well, we
could
have…”

“You
know
what I mean.” Lucy tried to glare at him, but her smile gave her away.

His grin turned to laughter. “It’s
so
good to see you smiling again. I’ve missed that.”

“I haven’t felt much like smiling lately.” She propped her broom against the stony wall. “Didn’t realize it was that obvious, though.”

“It was to me, but then I’m probably more interested in whether or not you’re happy than anyone else is.”

Lucy frowned. “And why is that?”

“You’re my mate, Lucy. Your happiness is important to me.”

“But I’m not really—”

“Whatever,” he said with a shrug. “I’d still rather have you happy and healthy than sick.”

She knew the feeling. Watching him prick his finger had been almost as painful for her as it must have been for him.

Traldeck started a fire while Natasha and Faletok butchered the qualskin. “Nice to have fresh meat again,” Natasha said. “Think we can eat all of this tonight?”

“I
know
we can,” said Terufen. “Slice it thin so we can cook it fast and put out that fire before the vrelnots come out.”

“They’re likely to be thick out here tonight with that herd of qualskins nearby,” Vertigan said. “We should double the watch.” He glanced at Tarq as though expecting him to disagree.

Tarq ignored the bait. “That works for me,” he said. “I can take the first shift.”

“And I will join you,” Bratol said. “Your skill with a bow and excellent night vision should offset my shortcomings as a sentry.”

Lucy smiled to herself. Bratol’s chief claim to fame as a guard was his ability to remain alert for hours without any apparent ill effects. Lucy didn’t have trouble staying awake herself, but she usually paid for it the next day. Doubling the watch would mean that her turn would come around that much sooner.
Oh, joy…

Qualskin steaks roasted over an open fire were absolutely delicious. Lucy was thankful she could keep it down and wondered how long the effects of Walkuta’s ritual would last. Perhaps every other night would be sufficient…

***

Tarq woke Lucy with a hand on her shoulder. “Vrelnots,” he whispered. “Get your bow.”

Lucy sat up. She had no idea what time of night it was; for all she knew, Tarq could’ve been asleep by her side for hours. Moonlight streamed in through gaps in the leaves to reveal the others, all awake and silently preparing for attack. Even Rufus kept still, which seemed strange until she remembered that Vertigan had probably given him telepathic instructions. She picked up her bow and quiver and took her place in the line of archers.

Peering out from behind the thin shield of brush they’d used to supplement the hanging vines, Lucy could see them in the moonlight—four huge vrelnots circling above the mountainside. She could hear movement below and saw that the herd of qualskins had returned and were grazing near their shelter, apparently unaware that other creatures were sleeping there. Lucy decided they must’ve been really stupid because they didn’t seem to notice the vrelnots either.

Until one of the huge birds swooped down and plucked a young qualskin right out of the herd.
Then
they scattered. Unfortunately, several of the woolly goats headed straight for their campsite, apparently accustomed to taking refuge there themselves.

Tarq shot the first one that came close and the others went galloping off in different directions. A second vrelnot flew in behind the first, not seeming to mind that someone had saved it the trouble of making the kill. However, instead of flying off with its prey, this one landed just outside the little cave. Lucy slowly backed away from the curtain of leaves and watched as the beast began to feed, hoping it would be satisfied with one qualskin and not go looking for anything else. Then she remembered what Tarq had said about the vrelnot he’d killed leaving a dranik to come after him and she felt like throwing up—a feeling that probably had nothing to do with her pregnancy.

She glanced over her shoulder at Tarq. He’d moved farther back and traded his bow for the atlatl, holding the dart at the ready. She knew the atlatl was a highly effective weapon—she’d once seen him launch a dart with enough force that it passed right through the body of a dranik and came out the other side—but its use required an overhand throwing motion. Even crouched down as he was, the low overhang didn’t allow much room for that.

Everyone was frozen in place, bows drawn while they waited for the vrelnot to finish its meal and leave. It was nearly finished when Lucy’s own dinner of fresh qualskin finally got the best of her. She tried to stifle her belch but only succeeded in turning it into a hiccup.

The vrelnot cocked its ugly head, peering directly at her. Then it began to advance. Slowly. Menacingly.

Holy
shit.

Lucy was too petrified to move as arrows sang out from bows all around her. The vrelnot screeched in agony as a few of them found their mark. None were fatal, but instead of fleeing, the beast seemed determined to destroy its attacker and came straight for her—the source of the only sound it had heard—its beak open wide, hissing its rage as it tossed aside the boughs that separated them.

Certain death was less than a meter away when Lucy finally regained control of her muscles. Drawing her bow, she aimed for the eye and fired point blank just as Tarq’s dart flew over her head and drove straight down the vrelnot’s throat. She’d barely registered the hit when Tarq yanked her back out of the way. Snatching up a rock, he leaped forward, hammering in her arrow as far as it would go. The writhing vrelnot fell dead, the tip of its beak a hairsbreadth from where Lucy had been crouched mere moments before.

Nobody moved, and for a long moment the silence was so complete, Lucy could hear her own blood rushing through her ears. In the next instant she was in Tarq’s arms, his hot kisses raining down on her face.

Lucy was stunned. He was kissing her as though her death would’ve destroyed him. She was about to return those kisses with equal ardor when she realized that he was only doing what a supposed mate would do in such a situation. It didn’t mean what she thought it meant. For one split second she hesitated, but emotion overcame her and she threw her arms around his neck, returning his kisses with passionate fervor, spearing her fingers through his hair.

Then she recalled that though it was still dark, every one of the aliens present at least claimed to have better night vision than a human. Breaking off the kiss with a show of embarrassment that wasn’t entirely feigned, she leaned into him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her head nestled against his chest. His heart was pounding hard enough to break a rib, but it grew steadier the longer she held him in her embrace.