Stud (35 page)

As Tarq roared with laughter, Lucy retaliated by grabbing his dick and proceeding to give it the scrubbing of its life. By the time she was finished, tears of mirth were streaming from his big blue kitty-cat eyes.

“Okay, now turn around so I can do your hair.”

Tarq was still chuckling when he sat up, pivoting on his butt before lying down on his back with his legs up over the side of the pool. Lucy settled in behind him, half wishing the water was deep enough to dunk him, but unfortunately it wasn’t even deep enough to get his ears wet. Lathering up his long curls, she had to wash and rinse it twice before she was satisfied that she’d removed all of the blood.

“All done,” she said sweetly and got to her feet. She stepped out of the pool and picked up her towel—another of those goodies she’d stashed in her bag that would probably prove to be as popular an item as the salami—and dried off quickly, donning her clothes before Tarq even got out of the water.

Snatching up Tarq’s shirt and jeans, she rounded the slab of stone that shielded the shower area from the rest of the cave, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll get Traldeck to dry these real quick.”

It wasn’t until Tarq stood up that he realized she hadn’t left him the towel. He stepped out of the water and slipped on his sandals.

And waited.

And waited some more.

By the time she returned, he was getting rather chilly; his skin had nearly air-dried and his erection was a thing of the past. “Couldn’t you have at least left me the towel?”

“It was wet,” she explained as she handed it to him. “Traldeck had to dry it, too. It’s pretty neat the way he does it. I wasn’t watching him that closely when he heated the water, but his eyes look really strange.”

“I’ll bet they do.” Tarq shivered as he wrapped the towel around him. “At least it’s warm. You know, I wouldn’t have minded using the towel the way it was. I was about to freeze my nuts off waiting for you.”

Lucy gazed at him with round, overly innocent eyes. “I couldn’t leave you with a damp towel.” Tarq watched as the corner of her mouth twitched into a mischievous smile. “Even if it
was
your fault for getting me all wet.” She bit her lip, obviously doing her best not to laugh.

She’d done it on purpose!
“Why, you little—”

Lucy squealed and darted around the stone slab and out into the cave with Tarq hot on her heels. What he’d do when he caught her, he had no idea, but chasing her seemed like the thing to do at the time. They’d already run past Crilla and Faletok, who stared at them open-mouthed, when Tarq remembered he wasn’t wearing anything but a towel.

Heading toward the mouth of the cave, they streaked past Traldeck, who shook his head knowingly.
“Newlyweds.”

Chapter 23

Tarq had initially wanted to get to Noklar as quickly as possible, but after a few days of life in the cave—hunting draniks by day and making love with Lucy by night—he considered telling Vertigan the way and letting the others go on without them. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about Vertigan trying to become Lucy’s second husband. Unfortunately, without Traldeck around to heat the water, bath time in the cave wouldn’t have been anywhere near as much fun.

Along with being a good source of food, bringing down draniks had an additional perk. Their fur was just about the softest Tarq could imagine, and Lucy had gotten very creative with it. Traldeck could cure the hides just by gazing at them for a short while, and Lucy had used her precious thread to stitch together a few items, among them a proper quiver for his arrows and a mitt for handling hot items around the fire. She also cut a long strip of hide and pounded it repeatedly with a rock, making the leather soft and pliable, not explaining to anyone what it was to be used for.

Tarq found out later that evening. He wouldn’t have thought that anything in the entire galaxy could feel as good as any part of Lucy you’d care to name, but dranik fur in Lucy’s hand?
Fabulous.
She’d wrapped half of it around his cock, using the other end to tease his balls. Relaxing completely as she stroked him, his climax had come as a bit of a surprise—to both of them.

One other thing that came as a surprise, once he realized it, was the fact that, unlike so many of the women he’d been with, Lucy was constantly finding new and different ways to not only please him but to drive him absolutely wild.

All his life Tarq had been the one to hone his technique for the benefit of his clients. He was, after all, a professional; it was his business to know what women liked, and relying solely on the fact that he was Zetithian would only get him so far. He couldn’t have his repeat customers viewing what he had to offer as mundane; if nothing else, it was a matter of pride. Still, though the idea that Lucy might be getting pointers from Natasha did occur to him, he preferred to believe that she was inventing them on her own—just for him—which in his eyes made her truly unique and made him love her that much more.

It took several days of hunting and drying the meat before everyone agreed that there was enough for the journey to Noklar. Crilla and Faletok held out the longest, though Tarq suspected their reluctance was due more to the daunting aspects of the journey for two aging Vetlas than it was for a lack of sufficient food. Still, he’d had the opportunity to observe them and felt that they were hardier than they gave themselves credit for.

Carrying an adequate supply of water was the factor that concerned Tarq the most; game was plentiful in the mountains, but water would be scarce until they reached the river valley. Kotcamp had heard that vrelnot hide was waterproof, so, armed with knives, Tarq, Vertigan, and Traldeck had set about skinning the carcass. The meat was tough and barely edible—though the dog seemed to enjoy it—and the hide even tougher, but they managed to get enough of it to give Lucy something to work with.

After the first painful attempt at piercing the hide with her one and only needle, Lucy resorted to using thorns and bark fiber to stitch together vrelnotskin water bags. As if this task wasn’t difficult enough, ensuring that they were watertight required a double row of stitches. Lucy had still been afraid they would leak, but she discovered that, once filled with water, both the hide and the wood fibers swelled slightly, sealing the tiny holes.

Each day when he was out hunting, Tarq gazed out over the mountains, the route to Noklar etched so clearly in his mind he could even see it with his eyes closed. How to protect everyone from the nightly vrelnot raids continued to concern him, even though he knew his bow was capable of at least wounding them. Terufen had proved adept at making arrowheads, and each evening he and Tarq made as many arrows as they could. He also made several more bows with the intention of arming each of the party, whether they could shoot straight or not, and a spear, which he thought might be useful if he ever had to engage a vrelnot in close combat again.

Bratol had told Tarq about another ancient weapon called the atlatl, a sort of throwing handle used to launch much longer arrows or darts, as he called them. Tarq was able to make one from Bratol’s description, and though he wasn’t as accurate with it as the bow, he had to admit it would probably be useful if he ever had to bring a vrelnot down out of the sky. Once he understood the theory, Kotcamp had been making and practicing with bolas night and day. Traldeck and Vertigan worked on felling trees and got to the point that they could drop one in a reasonable amount of time. The wood came in handy, supplying fuel to smoke the dranik meat as well as bark fibers for making rope.

They were as well prepared as they could possibly be, given the circumstances. The hardest part would be taking the final plunge.

***

After dinner, Lucy sat next to Tarq as she worked on reinforcing her moccasins with vrelnot hide. The discussion around the fire centered on everyone’s plans for the following day, which was typical. Tarq and Kotcamp would go hunting, several of the others would practice with their bows, Crilla would gather more soapweed… The decision everyone was dreading was the one thing that wasn’t discussed. No one seemed to have the courage to come out and say it.

Walkuta had been sitting quietly—so quietly, in fact, that when the Zebtan woman’s high, clear voice cut through the general chatter, Lucy missed her stitch, stabbing her thumb with the needle. “We should leave tomorrow. There is a disturbance in the heavens.”

Lucy dropped her moccasin to suck her bleeding thumb. No one spoke. Everyone stared at Walkuta as though her green skin had suddenly turned red. “A disturbance in the heavens?” Lucy echoed. “You’re kidding us, right?”

Walkuta shook her head, the thick tendrils of her hair swaying as though they were submerged in water. “The rains are coming. I can feel their approach.”

Lucy had heard enough tales of the fierce storms in the Eradic range to know that she had no desire to experience one firsthand—and hadn’t thought she ever would. “But the rainy season doesn’t start for at least another month. With any luck, we’ll be in Noklar long before it hits.”

Walkuta turned her sepulchral gaze on Lucy from her rocky perch on the opposite side of the fire, the reflection of glowing embers in her huge orange eyes intensifying her bizarre appearance. The nape of Lucy’s neck prickled. Walkuta was either completely nuts or a legitimate prophetess—Lucy hadn’t decided which—but whatever the case, she was still… unsettling. “The rains will be here soon. We must make haste.”

Some of the others murmured their dissent, but Tarq spoke up. “She’s right. We should go.”

Faletok stirred the dying fire with a long stick. “Is this part of your vision?”

Crilla sat beside her husband, nodding vigorously. “His vision is a true one. I’m sure of it.”

Faletok shot a withering glance at his wife from beneath his droopy lids. “No one ever said it wasn’t.” Fixing his gaze on Tarq, he repeated the question.

“No,” Tarq replied. “But we
are
ready. Putting it off won’t help us.”

“We need more practice with our bows,” Vertigan said. “I don’t relish the idea of a bunch of novice archers trying to take down a vrelnot.”

Bratol was smiling slyly, as though he knew a secret that no one else was privy to. “He will lead and we will follow.”

Traldeck nodded his agreement, but Vertigan’s blue eyes flashed with annoyance. Lucy had suspected that Vertigan—as the unofficial leader of the pack—would want to be the one to decide, and apparently she was correct. “We are not ready,” he said bluntly. “Starting out now would be suicidal.”

Bratol smiled benignly in the face of Vertigan’s anger. “Oh, I doubt that. There will be risks, of course, but nothing in this life is without risk—nothing worthwhile, that is.”

Vertigan’s attitude did not improve. “If the rainy season is indeed upon us, what better reason to remain where we are?”

Terufen snorted. “And stay here for another year waiting for better weather? I don’t think so. I’m willing to take the risk. And for your information, the rest of us aren’t so bad with our weapons. We may not be able to shoot a vrelnot in the eye, but Crilla can hit a rock rat at ten meters and Kotcamp throws a mean bola. I vote we go now.”

The thought of waiting until the next dry season rolled around sent a spasm through Lucy’s heart when she realized what else that might mean. “And I’m pregnant. I may not be having much in the way of symptoms now, but I have absolutely no desire to make the trip when I’m about to deliver or have three babies to carry. Not gonna do it, Vertigan. No way.”

Vertigan obviously hadn’t considered this or what was more likely—particularly in light of his sheepish expression—he’d simply forgotten. “That’s a pretty good reason, Lucy.” He sighed with apparent misgivings. “I guess we should go then.”

Lucy nodded and swept her gaze over the entire company, all of whom were nodding in agreement. They might never be in complete accord again, she thought grimly. It was now or never.

***

The next morning the mountainside was again enveloped in dense fog, and given Tarq’s vrelnot experience, everyone voted to stay put until it lifted. Lucy busied herself making sure everything was packed securely. Though her skill in stitching hides together with sinew and bark fibers had grown considerably, how they would hold up during the journey was unknown. After a check of their gear, she smiled to herself thinking that they pretty much
had
to move on. Between Tarq and his bow and Kotcamp and the bolas, the dranik population had thinned considerably.

Lucy hated to admit it, but she was going to miss the cave, and not only because it had a shower. She and Tarq had lived there as a married couple among people who believed the lie. Not that she’d given anyone reason to doubt it. Playing the part of Tarq’s mate had been all too easy.

When the fog lifted at last, she took a final look around, noting that her eyes grew misty when her gaze landed on the pile of grasses that had been the bed she’d shared with Tarq. With a wistful sigh, she shouldered her duffel bag and the bow and arrows he had made for her. More than anything she wished she would never have to use them, but doubted that her luck would hold. When she’d considered how much luck had been involved in everything that had occurred since she first laid eyes on Tarq, she had a feeling she’d used up her allotment for the year—perhaps for her entire lifetime.