Ruth's Bonded (Ruth & Gron Book 1) (3 page)

Okay, so the alien didn’t want to
make friends. He hadn’t attacked her though. It could have been worse. As long
as whoever had abducted them fed them, it didn’t look like he would eat her.
Oh, Ruth had no doubts he was a meat-eater, with teeth like those, but she was
hoping he was squeamish about eating other sapient races. He wasn’t leering at
her either, which was good. She was probably the guiltier party as far as that
was concerned, having been caught off-guard by his full-frontal display.

Maybe she had it wrong, maybe he was
just an animal. A really calm, alien gorilla. That thought didn’t make her feel
any better about her situation, and she had to dismiss it anyway. He hadn’t
reacted to her like an animal would. He had facial expressions. He had replied
to her talking to him, even if she hadn’t understood. He met her eyes and
scowled in obvious reproach when she had attempted to sit next to him. He was
intelligent. He was an alien. They couldn’t communicate. This situation sucked.

She looked at her watch. At least she
still had that to keep her in touch with life on Earth. She hadn’t looked at it
before, so she couldn’t say how long had passed since she had been taken, but
it wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet. She knew she had been in that alley around
ten to nine, because she was almost at her building, which was the point of the
shortcut, and she wanted her coffee to still be hot when she got there. So, she
hadn’t even been in the cell for three hours. Her co-workers might only just be
thinking that she was anything other than late or sick. It would probably be
hours before her boss called any number other than hers. Of course, it might
also be days. They might only bother really looking for her so they could fire
her.

Ruth let her head drop against the wall.
How could it be so quiet and still in here if they were on a spaceship? She
thought under other circumstances she might be excited to be flying through
space, if that was what they were doing. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe she’d been
kidnapped by NASA and she was in Area 51 right now, thrown in with an alien as
a socialisation experiment. Maybe she was taken because she was a
non-threatening first attempt to test whether or not the beast was hostile to
humans, and she wouldn’t be missed if he was. If she had been taken by humans,
she’d really appreciate it if they’d let her know. Maybe they couldn’t risk
letting her see their faces, but just a voice over an intercom, or a commando
in body armour and a ski mask would really help her mood right then.

She sat up straighter. It was too
early to be getting depressed, she hadn’t even been here for a day. Maybe she
was being held for ransom, and would be going home once the government
negotiated her release. She got to her feet. Maybe she could get herself out of
here. She should at least look. She didn’t miss the way her cellmate’s eyes
followed her, but she ignored him for now. She didn’t blame him for watching
her, she was the only other thing in here, after all. He couldn’t even watch
paint dry or grass grow in here. He didn’t even have tiles to count.

Ruth turned her back on him and faced
the wall behind her, running her hands over it. She couldn’t feel any
vibrations at all, nor had she when she was sitting on the floor. She pressed
her ear to it but heard nothing other than a faint dull rushing sound which she
suspected was the blood in her head. She knocked a knuckle against the metal
and it clanged, the same way it had when she had hit the floor after being
thrown in. There must have been a hollow on the other side. It looked like the
space was formed by individual sheets of metal that were bolted together, so
logically any weaknesses would be at the seams. Ruth moved to the closest one
and ran her fingers along it.

The alien’s growling voice came to
her from the other side of the cell. While she still couldn’t make out any
individual words, she was believing more and more that he was actually speaking
when he did that, and not just vocalising his displeasure like an animal. She
couldn’t understand it, but it was encouraging to think that he wasn’t going to
give her the cold shoulder for however long they were stuck here together. He
didn’t want them sitting next to each other, and she would respect that, but
she was glad there was hope for some kind of solidarity between them. He didn’t
get up to help her though, so she turned back to what she was doing.

“Yeah, whatever,” she replied, just
to be polite, knowing he couldn’t understand. “I’m still going to look.”

She could look for a loose or damaged
bolt, and she made a note to do that later, but the bolts were spaced close
enough together that if she wanted to create a gap wide enough for her
shoulders, she’d have to remove two or three at least, and the odds of there
being three damaged ones all lined up next to each were almost non-existent.
Maybe she could fatigue them by working the metal somehow, but the walls didn’t
give at all when she leaned her weight against them. 

The alien spoke again, making her
think he was probably telling her not to bother, but she only stopped when she
heard him get to his feet. She hopped away from the wall when he came over
pulling her arms to her chest protectively, but he simply stood in front of her
with one hand against the seam where the metal was joined, and pushed as hard as
he could.

Ruth wondered if she had gone pale or
was blushing. Apart from being naked and furry, this guy had to be over six and
a half feet tall, and his arms were as big as her head. He was seriously buff.
He had the kind of size and definition that could only be found in comic books.
She could see now that the shield-like fur on his chest tapered down from his
pecs into a treasure trail that framed his genitals rather than covered them.
And yes, she was looking. The fur itself looked almost two inches deep wherever
it was, pouring down the outside of his arms and legs. She looked down, hoping
for another peek at that tail, and she was obliged when she found it hanging
between his calves, before it curled up and out of sight. 

His muscles strained obligingly as he
pushed against the metal, but nothing happened. He looked at her again and
growled briefly. She now thought she would recognise “I told you so” in his
language if she heard it again, but she frowned at him.

“You can’t blame me for trying,” she
said. “Besides, maybe I’m smarter than you, even if I’m not stronger.” She was
banking a lot on him not being able to understand her, but she didn’t hide her
petulant look as she folded her arms in defiance. He just looked at her blankly
as if waiting for her to explain in a way he understood. Eventually she rolled
her eyes and made little shooing motions with her hands to chase him away. He
clearly didn’t understand the gesture, but he retreated anyway, probably
misinterpreting it as an attempt to touch him.

She ran her fingers over the seam
again and it was obvious nothing had changed. At least her eyes had grown
accustomed to the dark. Ruth moved around the room, stopping at every seam,
examining the bolts. She was aware that the alien was still stood where she had
left him, watching her, but he didn’t offer any more helpful suggestions. She
tried not to be unnerved by his stare, or intimidated by his size.

Finally, she had done every wall, and
not found one scratch or speck of rust. Great. The floor was the same. She
stamped her foot to listen to the clang. They must be suspended in a big empty
space for that noise, but there was no echo. She went around, trying to listen
for a change in the sound, a point that suggested their cell was resting against
something, but she didn’t find one. She looked up to find the alien standing
inches away, looking down at the floor as if expecting to see something to
explain her stamping. She leapt about a foot in the air when she saw him, and
he looked at her as if he was starting to get concerned that she might be
dangerously unhinged.

Well, what was he going to do about
it? She moved away from him and turned her attention to the ceiling. She
reached up on tip toes to see if she could reach it. She could just brush it if
she jumped. Okay. So in theory if there was a weakness up there, she could exploit
it. She didn’t know how, but at least it wasn’t completely out of reach. She flinched
again when the alien appeared beside her. Damn, that guy was quiet when he
wanted to be. He still looked confused, but this time he put his hand on the
ceiling above him. Of course he could reach it. He was a foot taller than her,
if not more. But this was good news. She pointed excitedly at the barred hatch
over the hole in the ceiling. He looked, then understanding dawned on his face.
His expression darkened and he growled. This time she didn’t think he was
speaking. He knew what she wanted but he didn’t want to do it. Why?

Ruth pointed again more determinedly.
He growled again and moved to walk away from her. She reached out and grabbed
his arm. He stiffened immediately, snatching his wrist away and whirling on
her, snarling into her face. She screamed and threw up her arms to protect her
face from the attack she was sure was coming, but nothing hit her. She risked a
peek at him and saw him retreat, lowering his lip back down over his crazy
fangs. He glanced at the hatch before walking away to slump against the wall
again.

Was there something up there that was
keeping him from killing her? A camera? One of the people who had taken her?
She looked at the hatch. She couldn’t see anything. She glanced back at the
alien, who was sitting down now, but who was still watching her carefully.
Well, to hell with him. Ruth looked at the hatch, and leapt for it.

Gron watched the Queen with some
trepidation and more than a little guilt. He had only meant to warn her off
when he snarled at her. She had to understand he would not join with her. She
had taken his arm, sought to command him, and he had reacted, perhaps without
thinking. He had not expected her to cower and shriek like that. The Queens he
knew would have roared in his face in retaliation. He had forgotten that he was
much bigger than she was. She did not appear to have anywhere near the muscle
he did, and her teeth must be very small too, to fit inside that mouth.

He had watched her sit listlessly,
then get up and begin examining the walls. He had figured out fairly quickly
what she was doing. She was looking for a weakness in the structure, a route of
escape. He had done the same thing. Granted he had done it by throwing his body
against the walls in a rage, and roaring his vengeance until he was hoarse, but
he knew there was no weakness, no escape. He’d tried to tell her as much, and
while she had replied to him, she had not stopped. They did not understand each
other. So he got up to show her. He approached her cautiously, not missing how
she flinched, and pressed with all his strength against the seam of the wall.
As he expected, nothing happened.

“This is not the way,” he told her.
She said something back to him, but he did not understand. Then she waved her
hands, causing him to retreat, fearing she would touch him. Gron still did not
want to be touched by her. He couldn’t say why exactly, but it was almost a
fear. He did not know what would happen. It would be inappropriate yes, and in
his tribe, a male could be severely punished for touching a Queen in a way she
saw unfit, but no one could argue if a Queen chose to touch a male. If a Queen
selected a male for her entourage, she would begin by touching him. If she
chose to Bind a male to her, only another Queen could argue.

But he did not want this Queen to
Bind him, or did he? To be chosen as a consort was a great honour, one he had
never expected, could never have expected in his own tribe where he was not one
of the largest males nor most pleasing to the eye. It was an opportunity for him,
certainly, but too much was unknown. He could not even speak with this Queen,
how would her tribe receive him if they escaped and returned to them? Could he
bear never to return to his own tribe and see his mother or brothers again? Was
what this Queen was offering a worthy trade? And of course, their life as it
stood now was too uncertain. This cell was not a den where children could be
raised. They were not safe here, he could not feed them. At any time, the
creatures upstairs could separate, hurt, or kill them. They could be starved
and he could do nothing. Until they were free, he would not be a worthy mate
for her.

Allowing the Bond to form between
them was too much of a risk. He would protect her from harm, but he must remain
free.

Gron continued to watch the strange
one move around the cell, pausing frequently and for long periods of time. When
she again came near to him, she stopped and began stomping her feet to make
noise. He was concerned that their captors might hear, but nothing he had ever
done had brought them to the cell when they had no other reason to be there. He
thought she might be attempting to communicate with spirits, which he had seen
done before, but he thought it unlikely any spirit would come to this cold grey
box.

Nevertheless he was curious, and
approached her again, and again she jumped away from him. Why? Did she think he
might hurt her, or take her in hand?
She
had approached
him
earlier, after all! She moved away from him and began stretching to the
ceiling, even jumping to touch it. Confused, he laid his hand upon it to see if
that was what she wanted. It appeared to be, because her face lit up and she
pointed to the hole in the ceiling. She wanted him to touch it? No, he had
touched it before in his own frenzy of escape and it burned him. Knowing she
could not speak his language, he growled at her to indicate it was bad. She
pointed again and he repeated his warning then moved away from her.

Her hand on his arm was a surprise.
Foolishly perhaps, he had turned so that he could not see her for a moment, and
she gripped him from behind. He spun to warn her off. He would not be touched.
He would not be Bound. She must accept that.

Now he sat against the wall, watching
her again, his tail flicking guiltily in his lap. He had not meant to scare
her. His behaviour would have been normal in his tribe. He wished he could
explain using words but he could not. Their time together could become very
uncomfortable if they continued to set each other at odds like this. But he
could not apologise and he had nothing to give her to show his remorse.

He did not like the way she was
standing now. She was still under the hatch, looking at it. She must have
understood his warning... But who was he to tell a Queen what to do? He shifted
his weight forward in anticipation.

She leapt before he could stop her
and her outstretched hand grazed one of the bars. She shouted in pain and fell
back, her legs buckling beneath her so that she hit the floor hard. He was
there beside her in an instant, reaching for her injured hand, but she shouted
and lashed out at him, pushing at his neck and shoulders as she scrambled out
from under him. He let her go, ashamed. Not only was she afraid of him, she
thought him low enough to take advantage of her injury. She either didn’t want
his help, or didn’t believe that was what he wanted to do. Either she would
rather suffer alone than take comfort or aid from him, or she thought he would
make it worse.

She cowered in a far corner,
clutching her hand to her chest, occasionally taking peeks at it to assess the
damage. From his own experience, Gron knew any damage should be shallow and
heal quickly. He watched her suffer, her body tense, her jaw clenched,
alternating between looking at her hand and staring at the ceiling. It
physically hurt Gron to see her suffer alone because she would not take his
help. She was trapped with him, without her males, without her tribe, and he
would not Bond to her. No Queen, no matter what age or strength, should be in
pain without comfort. If she was home, she would be surrounded by her males
right now. If he was home, and his Queen was hurt, he would comfort her. But he
could not go to her because he had snarled and growled and scared her, acted so
badly that now she rejected him. Her pain was better in her mind than any
comfort he could give. He swallowed a whimper. If his Queen back home had
rejected him like this, he would crawl to her and beg for forgiveness.

But this was not his Queen. He didn’t
know why he was behaving like she was. He had been raised to treat all Queens
with obedience and adoration, of course, and if he had found an injured one
alone he would have helped her, but he wouldn’t have wanted to comfort her as
strongly as he did now - not lick her wounds, and brush his fur over her skin
and speak soft words to her.

He must have been alone too long.
Alone in this cell; it was not how his people were meant to live. He had never
been alone like this before. Perhaps he would have instinctively grown attached
to anything that appeared in his cell. Any species. Or even an inanimate
object. Perhaps she was not the only one looking for comfort in a new tribe.
That must be it. These feelings weren’t real, they were only the result of his
isolation. He couldn’t afford to give into them.

He reminded himself that his captors
could still be watching. They had put her in with him for a reason.

He forced himself not to follow her
to where she was curled now, and instead retreated to the wall. He sat, folded
in on himself, and let her sobs lash at him.