Alien Prince
CHAPTER FOUR—CALDER FEV’ROSK

I had seen many a vessel make berth upon my planet, so when the egg-pod came tumbling through the atmosphere, I knew its chances for a soft landing were slim. It pitched end over end following its own momentum as it burst through the cloud cover, sending streaks of white to trail behind it. I was a league or so at most from my dwelling outside the village, a pair of talatuna tied by the tail to my belt. I'd hunted them myself, the pair of them, and I'd spent the greater part of the afternoon in pursuit. I was tired and had hoped to spend the rest of the daylight hours tending to the small herb garden I'd planted next to my dwelling. Talatuna meat was stringy, but flavorful, and could do with a little dried contichi. So when the pod broke through and went plummeting to the dirt, I stood stock still for several moments, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to bother myself with it at all. If it had made a more graceful descent, if I thought perhaps that it had landed as intended, I would not have spared it a second thought. What business is it of mine, the comings and goings of our alien brethren? None, that's what, not since I gave up my post as a Qulari Priest. I was done with the days of dealing with the Echelon and their cockamamie scheme to save the Qet from extinction. Europax women; bah. Tall and stringy as talatuna meat.

The members of the Echelon with whom I had been dealing had sent human women to another Qeteshi settling; that would have been more to my liking, had I been in the mind to take a mate. Better human than Pyrtan women, which is what the third Qeteshi settlement got. The Echelon had turned our planet into a giant social experiment; and while I admired the efforts, I had no desire whatsoever to be a part of them.

So, I stood there pondering whether or not I wanted to involve myself in whatever had brought the pod planetside, and I had taken a few more steps toward my dwelling when my better conscious got the best of me. Once a man of the Gods, always a man of the Gods.

I muttered a few choice obscenities under my breath, and turned around on my heel, stalking through the tall grass toward the direction of the crash. As I walked-following the white streak the pod had left across the sky, like a giant arrow in the heavens pointing to where it had landed-I considered, very briefly, if perhaps I might not have been happier if I'd stayed in the village and mated with the Europax they'd assigned to me.

I'd met her, briefly; a dear friend had lured me back to town with the promise of a private meal shared between two compatriots. Against my better judgement, I had gone, with the intention of staying the Winternight and leaving early the next morning. And he was there, my friend, the great warrior Waelden, with his new bride. And mine.

"Welcome, Calder," he said, bearing a strange smile on lips I had known to be stern and stoic. "This is my wife, Vanixa." The woman was tall, thin, with black hair that brushed her waist, and dark, narrow, and discerning eyes. I got the sense that she didn't speak our language, simply nodded her head when she heard her name. "And this," Waelden went on, "is Fina. She has been assigned to you." Fina was as tall as I was, and a quarter my width. She had little in the way of bottom or breast, and forgive me if that's crude, but Qeteshi women are made of stronger stuff. She kept her perfectly spherical head free of hair, and her blue eyes were wide as saucers. She extended her hand to me. "Calder," she said, her voice smooth and sweet as honey, "I'm so pleased to meet you at last."

"Well, you should not be," I said, giving her hand a tentative squeeze. "I have no intention of making you a wife or mother, so you are better served replaceing occupation elsewhere."

Fina blinked her fine blue china eyes and Waelden cleared his throat in a manner meant to warn. There was a time where Waelden would have come right out to tell me I was being an ass; apparently, the presence of the Europax ladies meant that that time had long since passed.

"Shall we eat?" Waelden asked, and we did. His Vanixa had prepared some strange foodstuffs that were altogether too sweet for my taste, and I was never very adept at hiding my displeasure. As such, my sour expressions made Vanixa keep her eyes on the floor. Though Fina, to her credit, was growing bolder by the moment.

When at last I tossed my fork upon my plate, Fina stood up, the sudden force of her movement sending her chair toppling backward. "I think you're very rude," Fina said to me. "Yes," I agreed. This only seemed to make matters worse.

"And I...I don't think I want to be assigned to you anymore."

"Well, that suits me just fine," I assured her. Her entire head was turning red with her rage, and I marveled at how high a blush could travel.

"I will mate with someone else if you do not amend your behavior," She said, one final chance for the likes of me to bed the likes of her, but I was having none of it.

"Do what you will," I said, rising myself from the table, "it matters not to me." I gave a sharp nod of my head to the heretofore mute Vanixa, but she did have a word to offer me: "Cad," she said, and I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"She speaks!" I said to Waelden, who was fuming. I held up my hands defensively. "Forgive me. I have lived too long outside the village and am no longer fit for mixed company. Thank you, sincerely, for your invitation, friend. Even if it was an ambush, it is always a joy to see you." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and made a show of making a little bow. "I'll show myself out."

As far as I knew, Fina made good on her threat to mate with someone else. Some lucky young lad got to claim her, no doubt, and if there is any justice in the universe, they are both very happy together. But she was not for me. Nor, I thought, was any female creature. Not since all the strong and proud and beautiful Qeteshi women had died off.

I had spared no thought to Fina from our first meeting until that moment, tromping through the underbrush. I thought, perhaps, that it would be one of her kind, womenfolk who had been sent to the planet and were in distress. And if it were, I probably owed them a little kindness.

No one from the village would have seen the pod, not in broad daylight. It would have been lost amongst the white of the cumulous clouds that hung low in the air. So, it fell on me to do what was right. I would fetch the poor soul and bring them to the village where they could be collected by the appropriate parties.

When I finally saw the pod, as I climbed the crest of a small hill, I broke into a run. It was in much worse shape than I could have anticipated. The top was broken clean off, as though it had rolled to a stop, end over end. I rushed forward, slowing only when larger pieces of debris began to litter the ground. I darted around and over them until I came to a stop just outside the pod, which, I realized, was laying on its side.

I peered in through the broken top, and that was when I saw her. My heart dropped down into the pit of my stomach when my eyes befell that lovely face, so placid. She had cut her head at the line of her dark, dark hair, and bright crimson streaked across her pale cheek, but I could see that she was breathing, if unconscious. She was still strapped into the chair, and a good thing, too-that was probably the only thing that had saved her life.

I pried the door of the pod open with the force of my strength and reached forward to unclasp her restraints. I caught her when she came tumbling out of the chair and dragged her away from the wreckage to lay her in the soft, tall grass. She was a vision. Sweet pink lips, the color of the pert nipples that peeked through the golden strands hung around her neck. I felt a twinge in my manhood as I eyed her, the jewel between her thighs catching my attention. I came forward slowly, parting her legs just slightly to get a better look. I recognized the crest: Quarter Moon slavers. Ah. So she was an escaped slave.

"My lady," I said to the unconscious girl in the grass at my feet, "I am going to relieve you of the paraphernalia of your enslavement." She, being unconscious, said nothing. "Very good." I tugged at the leather straps that wrapped around her upper thighs until the jeweled covering came away from her sex. I could see that it had a bulbous purple mound that had been inside her, and it glistened with her juices. Abandoning the jewel, I removed the gold strands from around her neck as well, paltry coverings that they were. I had clothes she could wear, if I could get her back to my dwelling.

"My lady," I said, turning away again so as to give her a bit of privacy as we spoke. Well, as I spoke to her. It was difficult to keep my own lust in check at the sight of her soft, round breasts, full hips, and thick thighs. I wanted to sink my fingers into her and see her come alive at my touch. "I am going to be carrying you back to my dwelling now." I swallowed hard and turned back to her, tucking my hands beneath her and lifting her into the air. Her arm flopped to one side, and her head drooped back, and I knew that it was going to be a long trek back to my dwelling.

"My name is Calder Fev'rosk," I said to her as we began our journey, "and I am at your service." It felt silly to be speaking to someone who could not hear me, but it felt worse to think that I would just manhandle this poor girl without so much as introducing myself to her.

The light was beginning to wane, and I knew we were still a considerable distance from my dwelling, but the trek was slow going, even over relatively friendly terrain. I still had my kills tied to my hip, but the girl was dead weight. Trying to carry her like a babe in arms was doing neither of us any favors. So, after a moment's hesitation, I hoisted her up and bent her over my shoulder. I steadied her with my hand on her bottom; I could feel her breasts pressing against my back. But at least in this manner I was able to move a little faster. It would be bad for us, indeed, if we were caught out of doors for the Winternight.

We reached my dwelling just as the last rays of light were dimming, just as the flowers were closing their buds, the trees were drawing in their leaves, the grass was sinking low in the dirt. I had built myself a fine little cabin out of Panyan wood, and it gleamed in the low light of evening. It was a friendly little home, if small; there was the fire pit at the front, as was standard in a Qeteshi dwelling; then there was the bed, a fine, large thing with soft feather mattresses, pillows, and blankets, all of which I had inherited, all of which I had taken with me from the village. The bed itself I had constructed by and, along with all of the furniture in the cabin. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed, a table and one chair at the side of the room, and a staircase that led to the loft. I had my cooking utensils on the walls, my weaving on the loom. Once I could get the fire going, it would be cozy enough, indeed.

But when I brought my lady to my home, I thought how bare it looked. How sparse. Not at all fit for a lady such as she. But it would have to do.

I laid her down on the bed and covered her with blankets before taking my kills to hang on the wall. Then, I set about setting the fire with slow-burning oils that would keep us warm through the night.

Finally, I fetched a bowl of fresh water and a clean cloth, setting the bowl on the table next to the bed as I gently tugged the blanket away from the sleeping girl.

I examined her closely, trying to ascertain the extent of her injuries. I was concerned that she had not yet awakened, but all I could conceivably do for her was make her comfortable and clean her wounds. I dipped the cloth into the water and began to wipe the blood from her face, until there was not race of the injury save for the cut itself, a long slash that ran parallel to her hairline.

Next, I dabbed gently at her lower lip where there was another cut, and then one on her jawline. Then lower, on her left shoulder, her arm, her hip. Setting the cloth aside, I trailed my fingertips gently over the slope of her cheek. She stirred me to wanting; I covered her up again. Then, I leaned in to listen to the steady rhythm of her breathing. She did not appear to be in any distress, but I knew little of such matters. Particularly for a human girl, as she was. It was likely that lesser injuries could claim her life.

I resolved to go back to the village to fetch the healer if she did not wake up before daybreak. At least then I could say that I did all I could for her. Climbing off the bed, I went to the front door and tossed the bloodied water out into the cold night air. Then, I set about skinning the talatuna to prepare it for roasting.

The night was as any other night, except I lived by the music of her breathing. The night was the same, except I saw only the curve of her breasts, the hue of her lips, in my mind. My life was unchanged, save for how she occupied my every

sense.

So it should have been no surprise that I dropped the talatuna into the fire when I heard her stir and groan. I shot around and darted to the bedside to peer down at my lady as she shifted underneath the cover of the blankets. "My lady," I whispered, standing still, praying to those absent gods that this would be the moment she would wake. "You are safe now."

She turned her head from side to side, her expression one of distress as she wrestled her way back to consciousness. There was a crease between her eyebrows as she sucked in big gulps of air. And finally, finally with a fluttering of lashes, she opened her eyes.