Cage (Dark World Book 1) (6 page)

“You are leader; the decision is ultimately yours in the end, my friend. Your warriors will go out of their way to make a female’s stay as acceptable as possible; we will love any heir regardless of how he comes to us. But, a warrior tribe leader will battle every day for the return of his mate. We won’t win in the end if we’re all dead. Death of warriors from fighting other tribes is rare, but for the sake of a mate it will happen. Anarchy will rule. You’d need to be so frightening the female’s preferred mate would wait until you handed her back. It’s not possible,” Zenon argued. “I mean no disrespect, but even you aren’t that powerful. It won’t work, tribe leaders are too strong.”

Growing angry, Cage turned into a creature Cyra called a lion and not just any lion. Massive claws grew from his paws; enormous fangs top and bottom dripped saliva, a horn from a creature called a rhino protruded from his head. His breath puffed out in smoke. Cage manipulated the fearsome attribute of a number of animals into the one until satisfied. Spikes adorned his back. Rising onto his hind legs, massive paws swatting the air inches from Zenon, he offered an ear splitting war cry. The human female screamed; he had woken her. Zenon jumped back. He stared at Cage in fear until he started laughing. A broad smile curved his lips.

“Shit, that’s scary. If you weren’t my leader, I’d be on the ground in terror. This might just work,” Zenon said.

“It
will
work. Have my warriors search the forest for a female searching for her mate. I want as many as you can find and I will choose the best.” Cage shook the animal off.

“In the meantime?”

“The human female is injured, as I said. She has many fears. I will coax enough from her to keep my people safe while you search. When she is better, and I have my new female, I will be privy to new fears. Trust in me. If I am to prove again to the Mountain I am worthy, I will. If for nothing more than my son.”

“And after you have your son and the other female is returned? What of your prisoner?”

Cage wondered about that. He couldn’t give one of his warriors a female. There would be mayhem. There was no mention of a simple warrior ever mating or creating a child. Cage would be responsible for the human regardless of what he chose. The idea was annoying. He should be spending the rest of his life with his own female meant for him. A female who was supposed to love and care for him. He had proven he could protect his tribe from malicious traders who came to their planet. Cage had kept his entire tribe of warriors safe when alien species attacked. It wasn’t fair his mate was taken from him. He deserved a female.

Cage knew his mother loved him. She hugged him and fawned over him. His father was a hard man, a good leader. His mother kept her distance from his father more often than not. It was what his father wanted. Cage wanted more. He needed to be hard and cold and fearless, outside his home. Inside, he wanted the caresses, the hugs, a kiss to his forehead once in a while.

Yes, this bad ass could use a hug every now and again.

It would never be now. A stolen female would hate him, she would hate their offspring. Everything had changed. His poor son would only know affection from his father, and Cage wasn’t certain he knew how to give it. He had been eager for his son to be loved by his mother. Cage wanted the best for his offspring, now his poor babe would be deprived. Perhaps the human female would be grateful if he spared her, and she could love the child.
If
humans could love, some aliens weren’t capable. Cage would have to ask her.

“I will permit the human female to live with me. I agree to protect her, she may prove useful. She will not be my son’s mother, but she will be allowed to be a close second. Inform the warriors of my decisions.”

Zenon nodded. He turned and left.

“Cage?”

Cyra was calling to him. When he went into the room she was seated on a mound of furs, Cage’s bed. Her feet were bare, as were his; Cage had tossed the ugly encumbrances encasing her feet she called boots. Even the name for the item was distasteful. Her pink skin wasn’t really unpleasant; it was different, not breathtaking, not unattractive. Her ankle was swollen and many different colors. In places where her covering was torn there was more bruising. Cage didn’t like those colors, they were angry, mean. For a moment, he felt sympathy and the emotion surprised him. He smelled her fear as she gazed up at him. Again his mind swirled with certain creatures. She was wondering what he would use to frighten her with.

A strange swimming thing formed in his mind. A water creature. Long and grey and sleek with a mouthful of huge teeth. Something told him if he experimented on that form near her, his bed would be soaked in urine in seconds. He had encountered warriors who soiled themselves from fear, but this female took it to a whole new level. Leave it to him to find a female with a nervous bladder. He would have to control her liquid intake when practicing.

Cage sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t a revolting creature. Her looks were growing on him even after this short time. He supposed it was because she was unthreatening, tribe leaders tended to dip toward leniency with weaker species. Keeping her around, he supposed he would get used to her. Her dark hair was in disarray but thick with a few curls. Her eyes were dark brown and wary. She was curvy, but different from their females. She had two round breasts, not one large rectangle rounded mound on her chest for nursing. The articles of clothing covered her femaleness; it was unheard of on his planet. How was she to attract a mate while clothed and colorless? Her mate would never seek out her scent, nor would the warriors who followed him.

Her looks were odd, but they did draw him closer. Her hands were so tiny compared to his. His mother had been little, like Cyra. Her features weren’t as pronounced as his. Cage had seen his reflection numerous times. He was huge, everywhere. His jaw was square, his nose suited his face. He inched closer and wrinkled his near-perfect nose. It was a shame she smelled so bad. Cage wasn’t certain if it was the pee or if all humans stank.

Cage could see the pulse at her neck beating. She was sweating. She swallowed hard as he neared. Dots covered her bare arms; there were larger red blotches in a few places drawing his interest. Cyra appeared capable of some coloring; the manifestation was apparently geared to her emotions, as with their own females. She was frozen to the spot. He could smell her fear. Pee was imminent. He had an idea.

“We have pets on my world,” he said keeping his deep voice calm. “Do Earth creatures have pets?”

“Yes.”

In seconds, he pictured the tiny animal. Cage almost laughed.
That’s a pet?
The teeny being looked like a snack for a praefuge. Cage changed into a small creature. He was geared to hideous scary beings. Her creatures weren’t necessarily hideous, but he could expand on them. Instead, he changed into something he knew she would find unthreatening. The small creature was like the lion only much, much smaller. Cyra blinked.

“What is this form?” Cage asked.

She blinked and cocked her head. A gruff deep voice from this tiny being must have been odd.

“A kitten. A little grey kitten, like my old cat Smokey.”

The sides of her lips twitched into the barest of smiles. To his surprise, she picked him up and ran her cheek against his fur. Horrified, Cage began making the oddest sound in the back of his throat. It was a cute sound. Cage didn’t do cute, he did cutthroat.

“Oh, you can purr. How adorable.”

Shit, adorable me, not fucking likely.

She squeezed him tighter. Pee was no longer an issue. Mauling him was. She squashed him to her chest where her boobs attacked him with skin as her clothes were ripped low. The odd covering she wore called a t-shirt stunk. Under her arms were sweat stains. His mother had never smelled like this.

Mate a cesspool? No thanks.

Cage changed back and disengaged her hands. She scooted away from him. Her face turned bright red and for just an instant something flickered inside Cage. The emotion was gone before he could analyze it. She ran a hand down her hair.

“I’m thirsty,” she said. Her tone was quiet; it was a plea of sorts.

Oh no, it wants to refuel.

“I will give you liquid, if you can keep your issues under control. And off my bed.”

“It’s not my fault you scared me.”

“You only pee when frightened?”

“Everybody pees sometime.”

“Some more than others.” He gestured to a small space off to the side. “You may relieve yourself in there.
Only
in there.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Petulant?

She may be female, but she was still his prisoner and he would demand respect. An image formed in Cage’s mind. In seconds, he turned into a huge beast. His long tail waved back and forth. Sharp teeth protruded. He was bald, his skin leathery. His huge feet were clawed. Smaller arms with claws waved, scratching the air in her direction.

“Dinosaur,” she whispered on the barest of breaths, her eyes were wide with terror.

Cage roared, it was a pleasing sound—to him. Cyra went flying into the room he had indicated. Cage liked this form. In fact, he had seen other larger forms swirl within his mind. Cyra was indeed a secret weapon. He just needed to keep her alive and preferably his home dry. Perhaps his life wasn’t completely as unfair as he had thought this morning.

Cyra sat on the cave floor in the room she guessed was the washroom. The only light streaming in came from the room she guessed to be Cage’s bedroom. There was a hole in the floor, nothing else; where it led she had no clue. It was built for a man to relieve himself in. She was miserable, wet, she stunk, and she was scared. And she wondered if the dinosaur was still in the bedroom. Never in her wildest thoughts had she wondered a question like that.

There’s a dinosaur in the bedroom and it ain’t cheery or purple. I bet it doesn’t even sing.

Cyra had been curled in a ball for a while. She wasn’t prone to tears, she was dry-eyed but sad. Her life was over. She would never get home, never have a family or find love. If the planet wasn’t in possession of any space flight, there was no hope of escape. Everything around her seemed so primitive. Cage’s home was built in the side of a mountain and cold. Everything was hard, just like him. There wasn’t anything vaguely resembling clothes she could change into. Her boots and socks were gone, her toes were frozen. Her ankle throbbed. She was tired, hungry and thirsty. She had hit rock bottom.

“What are you doing?”

Cyra yelped and jumped. Cage stood staring at her. He was so big his physique blocked the small amount of light until he shifted. Thankfully he was once more a commando. The room had turned bitter and she shivered; it was dark, but there was enough light she could see he was confused.

“I didn’t make it to the hole,” Cyra admitted. She felt herself burn bright red with embarrassment. She had made it, but by the time she figured out where to pee it was too late.

Cage sighed. “The hole is meant for a male to piss in while standing, not a female’s delicate needs for squatting. You might have fallen in. Silly female. You could have asked me.”

“I hate dinosaurs. They’re extinct for a reason.”

Cyra was wishing Cage was extinct. He reached for her but she shied back, concerned what he would turn into. He dragged her to his chest and wrinkled his nose. Shaking his head he took her further back into the small cave and pushed at the wall. The door opened and Cyra blinked. The room beyond was huge and so beautiful it took her breath away. The air was nippy and steam rose close by from a water source. The cave was darkish and she wondered how the plant life flourished.

“This hasn’t been used since my mother left. It’s private. You’re not my female, but I wouldn’t expect you to be treated any differently. I have taken responsibility for you. You smell. You’re soiled. You are to wash and give me these things you call clothes.”

Cyra wrapped her arms across her chest. “I can’t go naked,” she wailed.

“You can’t wear stained smelly clothing. It’s disgusting. Why you wear these things on your body is a mystery.”

To her horror Cage began to take her clothes off. She batted at him but it was useless. His huge hands ripped at the tears, shredding the fabric. She stood nude before him in no time, her tattered clothes torn into pieces she wasn’t certain she could mend. Her bottom lip trembled. She was mistaken—
now I’ve hit rock bottom
. Cage looked at her worriedly.

“You’re not going to pee again are you?”

“No.” She swiped at her nose and shivered.

“Get in the bath.”

It wasn’t really a bath; the water source was an underwater spring of steamy water. Cyra had her arms wrapped across her breasts; she turned from him and entered the deep water. The water looked green, but she guessed it was the odd lighting glowing from the underwater plant life. She gasped as she waded further. The water was hot. It lapped at her calves, then thighs and she dropped her arms to dangle her fingers across the surface. The bottom was smooth but not slippery.

When waist deep she sunk to her chest and turned. Cage was watching her. She gazed up at him as she paddled around; finally, she ignored him, used to always having eyes on her, though she always told herself drones weren’t perverts. The government was very strict about random taping of nudity; it was forbidden unless there was consent from both of-age parties. Distributors of any illegal unwelcome nudity were dealt with swiftly.

In a far corner of the cave was a place to relieve herself. The toilet was rounded and black. There was a small waterfall for washing her hands not far from the facilities. Though the cavern air was chilly, she was in a tiny piece of warm heaven.

“My mother used to invite me in,” Cage said.

Cyra stopped her motion and pondered his thoughtful expression. “It’s your bath.”

“No, it belongs to a female,” Cage said. “The Mountain of Creation makes our homes; each cave has a revered place for a specially-created female. Tribe leaders are demanding of their mates and so our females are gifted with their own sanctuary. Our females are treasured. They honor us with life. Only a tribe leader isn’t created, he is born.”