Cock still buried inside her, I turn and cup her body against mine, her back pressed to my chest. She squirms a little at this position. “I feel you pressing into my . . . backside,” she says, struggling with the right word.
“My spur?” I ask, chuckling. I’m aroused by the thought of taking her from this way. It’s not done with my people. Not when we have tails that get in the way. “Is it uncomfortable?”
She squirms again. “It’s just . . . weird.”
I run a pleased hand over her still-flat belly. “We will have time to discover our likes and dislikes together, my Georgie. Do not worry.” Then my heart seems to still in my chest.
If she stays with me. If.
“Mm,” she says, her voice sleepy. Then she makes a huh noise in the dark. “Your khui stopped.”
“It silences for a time after a mating,” I tell her. “It will not go away even when the kit arrives.”
“Kit?” she asks, and I can hear the frown on her face. “What is this word? The mental picture I am getting with the word is a child.”
“That is correct,” I tell her and stroke my hand down her stomach again. “A kit is a child.”
“Why . . . how can I have your baby?” she asks, her body utterly still against me. “I’m an alien. Actually, you are, but for the argument, let us say it’s me.”
Have I not explained this to her? “That is how the khui chooses,” I tell her. “It determines offspring. A resonance mate is the only one who can bear children. Offspring only come through a khui-mating.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wait,” Georgie moans, and then she’s climbing out of bed. I feel a sense of loss as my body slides from hers. Already my cock longs to return to her wet warmth. But she’s making anguished sounds. “Waiiiiiiit. Vektal, be straight with me.”
“Straight,” I repeat, confused by her use of the word. “You wish me to form a line?”
“No! Tell me the truth!”
“I am telling you the truth,” I say, baffled.
“You . . . you vibrated—resonated—because your khui decided you could make me pregnant?” she asks, her voice raising in volume.
“Yes,” I say, not sure where this is heading. “A khui always responds to a fertile female.”
She moans again. “No. You can’t make me pregnant. I’m not due for my period . . . oh fuck,” she says in her own language. “Fuck! FUCK!! I’m never late! FUCK!!!”
“Fuhk?” I echo. “I do not know this word.”
Georgie descends back to the bed, only to smack a fist against my arm. “It means I’m late! It means you could have gotten me pregnant, you asshole!”
“Asshole?” I do not know this word either.
“Fuck!” is all she says.
PART SIX
GEORGIE
It’s hard to stay mad at a guy who doesn’t know why you’re so upset.
No, scratch that. It’s easy to stay mad at a guy like that. It’s really, really hard to stay mad at a guy who acts like you’re the best thing since sliced bread, pampers you at every turn, and acts like the baby you’re carrying in your belly is the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. Especially hard to stay mad as he and nine of his strongest hunters trek through thick snowdrifts in the bitter cold, carrying supplies for what they think are five more human women （and are actually eleven）。
I haven’t told them that part yet. One bombshell at a time. And if we decide to take our chances with the little green men, there would be no reason to wake them up and subject them to new and scary things. Like, big blue horned guys who want to potentially mate them and give them a bun in the oven.
I feel the urge to touch my stomach, even though I’m currently piggy-back on Vektal through the snow, heading ever-up the icy mountain to where I left the others. I might not have had a choice about the baby thing, but . . . I’m not upset. Which is weird to me. It’s hard to be angry when you see so much joy on another person’s face, and bringing Vektal that joy gives me a sweet sort of satisfaction, too.
Maybe I’m more crazy about the guy than I like to admit.
“There,” Vektal says, voice nearly lost in the wind. There’s a blizzard blowing, and it’s making trekking uphill a nightmare. No matter how many furs I wear, I can’t stay warm; even Vektal is bundled against the cold. I’m covered from head to toe, gloves cover my hands, and my teeth are still chattering. It’s worrying Vektal, but when he suggested he leave me behind at the elders’ “cave,” I refused. I won’t leave the others behind. I can’t. I need to see them to make sure they’re safe.