Bridget's Bane: A SciFi Alien Romance Read online

  I glare at him, shooting a look around the encampment. "Not so loud. We do not wish to share the news yet."

  "Then it is true?" I'rec looks incredulous. "And you did not tell us? Your clans-mates?"

  I pause, raking my hand through my wet mane. "It is…not simple. We have not mated."

  "B'shit, yes?" I'rec asks. "You resonated to her?" When I nod, he frowns again. "I do not see what the problem is. Why do you not fulfill resonance? You have mated before."

  His words just make me feel even more miserable. "She does not wish to mate again. She…did not like it. I do not understand it."

  Silent O'jek huffs a sound of amusement.

  I scowl over at him. "What?"

  He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

  "What is it you have heard?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Why do you laugh?"

  "Because you do not understand," he says finally. "What is there to understand? Everyone knows what happened between you two. You have both shouted it for the last turn of the moon."

  "She said…" I pause, and then move closer so I do not have to speak loudly. "She said that when we mated she did not enjoy it and it did not feel good. That I did not use my cock right." I lean in. "But I know I did. I know how a mating works."

  "Just because you stuck it in the right hole does not mean you used it right." O'jek lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "She told F'lor that you hurt her. That your cock was so big it pained her."

  She said she did not like it. That my cock was too big for the mating to be enjoyable. I do not remember her saying I hurt her… Horror swamps me. "I do not think my cock is that big." I reach down and grab it, just to be certain. "It is large, to be sure, but it still fit."

  "According to you, yes. According to her, no." O'jek smirks.

  I glare at him. "I like you better when you are silent."

  I'rec snorts. "It is a sad day when O'jek knows more about what your mate wants than what you want, A'tam."

  "That is not all," I continue, crossing my arms over my chest. My khui is silent, which means my mate is not nearby. I resist the urge to rub my chest, just to make sure I still resonate to her. "She says I do not listen to her."

  Both of my clan brothers give me odd looks.

  "What?"

  "This is surprising to you?" I'rec asks.

  O'jek just rubs his beard and shakes his head.

  "You think I do not listen to her, too?" I ask, astonished.

  I'rec puts a hand on my shoulder. "A'tam, you are my clan brother. You are a good hunter and a good friend. But you are not a good listener." He pauses, then adds, "At all."

  I flick his hand off. "I listen!"

  "But not about your mate's needs," I'rec says.

  "And you never listen to her when she tells you to leave her alone," O'jek adds.

  "You did not listen to me when I told you to use even boards for your hut, and now it creaks and groans like one of the elders—"

  I throw my hands up, silencing them before they continue. "Enough. Enough. Perhaps I am not the best listener. I care about B'shit, though." I pause, then correct myself. "Br'shit." Pause. "My mate. I care about her."

  "Then tell her this, and stop with this foolishness." I'rec gestures at me. "Look at U'dron. He wanted a female. He chased her down. They resonated and now her belly is full of his kit. The entire camp knows how happy they are together because she calls out his name all night long. He listens to her, I wager."

  "We all listen to her," O'jek mutters. "All night."

  I do not like that they are not on my side. "I thought you both did not like B's—er, my mate?"

  "That was when she refused you," O'jek says. "Now she is your resonance mate. No one refuses that. It is different."

  "Nothing is more important than re-growing our numbers," I'rec says. "If your mate is unhappy because you do not listen to her, then listen. If she says you are bad at mating, make her tell you what she likes. It is not hard." He nudges my shoulder. "This is what you have been wanting, A'tam. You have been moping over B'shit since we arrived. Now she is yours." His grin grows broader. "Think of her as a particularly tricky prey. Find out what will make her put her guard down and then swoop in for the kill."

  I run my hand through my mane again. "I do not wish to kill her, I'rec. I wish to mate her."

  O'jek makes a sound of exasperation and shakes his head.

  "It is a hyoo-man saying," I'rec tells me. "One T'ia taught me." His expression grows hard and cold when he brings up her name. I do not know if it is because he misses her, or if it is because he is angry at her. O'jek would know. He—

  I stagger at the realization.

  O'jek would know because he is a good listener. He would know because people talk around him, because he is quiet, and he pays attention.

  I do not. If it is quiet, I seek to fill the silence. My gut churns. Perhaps B…my mate…is right after all. Perhaps it is time for me to start listening more.

  30

  A’TAM

  After I part from I'rec and O'jek, I return to my hut. The fire is out, and I rebuild it, thinking hard. My stomach growls with the need to eat, but I do not want to talk with more tribesmates who will give me advice and point out what a terrible mate I am. I do not wish for more of my fellow hunters and friends to point out that I do not listen.

  Or that I am bad at mating.

  I…truly am bad? A'tam of Shadow Cat? The male that all the females admire? The hunter with the best nose for finding a trail? I do not like being bad at things. And I am so bad at it that it made B…my mate…miserable. It was so bad she wanted nothing more to do with me.

  It was so bad that I hurt her.

  My gut clenches with misery at the thought of hurting my female. She never indicated to me at all that it was unpleasant. That she loathed my touch.

  But then I think how when I was done, she rolled away from me and was silent. That is not the B'shit I know. My female is full of words, even when she is angry. Even more, then, perhaps, as she tries to convey her frustration.

  Her silence was a clue, and I completely missed it. I should have paid attention, and I was so focused on my own pleasure that I did not. Perhaps everyone is right and I am a terrible mate.

  I need to talk to my mate. To confess my ignorance and hope she will take me into her arms again. All I know is that I do not want us to end like this, with Br'shit sad and alone and hating my touch. I like her smile far too much. I would miss it as much as I would miss her kisses. Perhaps not all is lost, though. She responded to me last night when I held her in my arms. She liked my kisses, and I made her come.

  It is not much, but it is something.

  I look around my hut, thinking of Br'chit and last night. She slept in my arms, her scent in my nose, and I felt such…happiness. I move to my furs, picking one up to see if her scent remains, and frown down at a hard knot in the wood floor, underneath the spot where my mate slept. That has to move, I decide. I do not want her sleeping uncomfortably. I look at the floor of my hut, and then the walls. I look at the hastiness in which everything was constructed.

  I can do better than this for her. I did not give any thought to what it would be like to live inside my hut with a mate. I simply wanted it to be up, so I could show off to the females—and one in particular—that A'tam had a hut ready for a mate. I have done wrong by her in many ways, I realize, just by being thoughtless. Perhaps if I think more, we can come to a happy place, her and I.

  I straighten the furs, adding a few rolled up ones to make the nest more comfortable. As I do, I notice there is a satchel by the door to my hut. Curious, I open it…and see Br'sht's tunic inside. The bag is next to a roll of furs that I did not notice before. These are her things, I realize.

  She is coming back tonight. She is going to live with me.

  I look around my hut again, seeing all the flaws, and I wonder what I can fix before she returns. I move to the fire, stoking it higher, and put on tea. I want everything to be as welcomi
ng as possible for my mate when she comes back. I do not want her to have a single reason to leave my side again. As I clean up, I see the secrets stick. I pick it up, and my first instinct is to toss it into the fire. It is nothing but trouble.

  But then I pause.

  And I get a new idea instead. If Br'chet wants us to be truthful, perhaps this can be used in a way I like, too.

  31

  BRIDGET

  I hide out in my pottery cave, hoping that it will clear my mind, but it's futile. I'm too anxious to get much done. My cave is a mess—I'm pretty sure Pak and Juth dug through everything, looking for things to eat or steal. I can't be mad, because that's the life they've been taught, and they need things more than I do. I straighten up instead, building a fire and wetting half-made clay pots. I'm reluctant to dig into my work, because what if Juth and Pak come back? I wouldn't kick them out, not if they need shelter.

  Maybe I need to find a new place to do my work.

  It'd probably be smarter to set up in the longhouse than to hide out here in a cave…but everything in me rebels at the thought. I don't want everyone watching over my shoulder, hovering, waiting for me to fail so they can cluck their tongues over how long it takes for me to get it right. Just thinking about that makes me want to toss my clay entirely and give up.

  Instead, because I'm a stubborn ass, I pick up a molded pot. I've got a row of them along the back wall of the cave, all shaped and made pretty, just waiting to dry out so they can have a turn on the fire. I've worked the construction down to a good system—I make coils of clay, just like I was taught in that long-ago class, and work them into the shape I need. Once it looks right, I smooth the coils out and then I bake it.

  Or I try to. Every bake ends up a disaster of shattered pottery.

  I know it can be done, I just don't know how. Chewing on my lip, I smooth the dried edges of the pot. I could always just leave it as it is—a dry hunk of clay—and use it to hold things. It wouldn't be watertight, though. It wouldn't be real pottery. It'd just be a pretend sort of thing…and we already have baskets. No one needs a shitty pot that won't hold water. Frustrated, I growl at the piece and resist the urge to toss it aside. I hate that I've come so far and I can't figure out the next step. I hate that I can't check my phone for an answer, or a book, or ask someone. If I want an answer here, I have to come up with it myself.

  I look at my clay-making implements—items I've carefully gathered over the weeks, clay waiting to be worked, more coils, a half-worked pot, my dead fire—and I'm just tired. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of trying to be better when everything seems to be working against me. For just once, I wish I had the answers.

  My candles flicker. I look up just as a large form ducks into my cave and my khui starts to hum.

  A'tam.

  I'm too defeated to even argue with him or tell him to go away. I'm still thinking about earlier, too. That's another thing I feel like I failed at. I've barely even resonated and it feels like everything's all wrong there, too. Our talk earlier didn't go how I wanted, which is disappointing. A'tam isn't willing to listen to any criticism about himself, and if he can't accept that he's not perfect, we're never going to get anywhere.

  He crouches a short distance away from me, and I notice he's wearing nothing but boots and a loincloth. There's no fur cloak today, or food that he's brought to indicate that he's going to hang out. It's just as well. I'm really not in the mood for company.

  "Hey," I say softly, since it'd be rude to not acknowledge his presence.

  The look he gives me is typical A'tam—possessive and full of longing both, as if he wants to devour me alive. "You look tired," he says, gaze scanning over me. "You were supposed to just think this afternoon."

  "I did. I'm just…" I manage to lift the corner of my mouth in an almost smile. "Kinda tired. You don't look so hot yourself." It's a lie, though. Well, somewhat. A'tam is gorgeous as he always is, with that pale blue skin exposed, big shoulders flexed as he crouches. His arms are as corded as ever, his body as lithe and well-muscled as any athlete, but there's a strain to his handsome features. There's a tightness to the corners of his normally sparkling eyes, a flatness to his full, smiling mouth.

  He looks brittle, I decide. Like if someone hits hard enough, he'll snap into a million pieces. I must look the same way. Resonance, I decide. It's to blame. I know I've felt a little stretched too tight today, mentally.

  I expect him to make some excuse. To bluster that he's fine and make me feel silly for even pointing it out. He doesn't, though. He just watches me. "Are you hungry?" he finally says. "I made you a meal. It is in the hut, warming over the fire."

  That's…sweet. And I am hungry. He's being kind, tonight, after earlier's blowout. I'll take it. "Dinner would be wonderful," I say with a sigh, nudging one of my drying pots back into place. "It's not like I'm getting anywhere here."

  "Broken again?" he asks. There's such sympathy in his face.

  A'tam has seen me go through enough rounds of pottery to know how depressed I get when another batch cracks into a jillion pieces as I pull it from the fire. "No, there's no batch in there right now. I'm afraid to put the next round in, to be honest." I manage a laugh. "I don't know why I bother."

  "You bother because you are smart," he says, getting to his feet. "And because you will eventually figure it out. And when you do, everyone will be in awe of how clever you are."

  "They don't have to be in awe." I dust off my hands and get to my feet. "It'd just be nice to be able to contribute something special, you know? I don't like the idea that my entire contribution to living here is just bad cooking or even worse hunting."

  "Everything gets better with time," A'tam says. He holds a hand out to me. "If you would like to improve your hunting, I would help."

  I eye his hand. Why is he being so…nice? It almost feels like a trap. But I put my hand in his anyhow, because I want to trust him. I want to curl up against his chest and listen to his khui and to snuggle by the fire. I want to have hot, flirty kisses full of promise instead of all this despair that's been weighing me down like rocks. "Thank you. I might take you up on that. It's clear that I'm not meant to be a potter. Maybe I should just bury all this crap and forget I ever tried."

  He blinks, staring at my drying pots thoughtfully.

  "What is it?"

  "A memory. Something." He thinks, then frowns. "Nothing." He lifts our joined hands to his chest and presses my arm against his skin, as if trying to comfort me. "You will not give up. You will figure it out. If anyone can, it is you."

  "Thank you," I whisper. That might be the nicest thing he's ever said to me.

  Our hands joined, he leads me through the camp. I can't help but notice that we take a wide, wandering path that keeps us from wandering too near to anyone else. The beach is full of people, as it always is this time of day. Someone's making dinner by the fire, a few of the hunters are talking in loud voices as they cut meat a short distance away, and the women with children are watching them play with a ball. I can just make out Gren's fuzzy, dark form chasing after the ball as one of Liz's blonde daughters throws it. No one's half as good with those kids as Gren, or so patient. He's going to be a great dad.

  Of course, thinking about dads makes me think about A'tam. I wonder if he'd be a good one. Probably. He can be kind and attentive when he needs to be, and he's a great provider. As Gren snags Aayla around the waist and the little girl screams with laughter, I imagine A'tam playing ball with a daughter of his own. I imagine him slinging her around and playing on the beach, and I imagine a little girl with his pretty blue skin and his thick hair and gorgeous smile.

  My entire body hurts with wanting.

  Raahosh—the father of the girls—joins them on the beach, and I watch as the little ones race toward him with excitement.

  "You stare hard at them," A'tam says, his voice low and gentle as we walk along the beach.

  "Just wondering why it is we're the only two people miserable," I joke.

/>   A'tam is silent. I look over at him, and he's got a thoughtful expression on his face. "I am not miserable."

  "No?" Funny how that one statement makes me feel all breathless.

  "No. I just…I do not know what to say to you." He shrugs, but he doesn't let go of my hand. "All my words are the wrong ones. I do not even know what to call you in my head anymore."

  He sounds so damn forlorn that I giggle.

  Startled, he glances over at me, and when he sees my amusement, he chuckles. "It is true. I call you B'shit in my head, and then I feel as if I betray you, so I try to say it properly, and I get it wrong time after time."

  It's the fact that he's trying that makes it so damn endearing. My heart swells and I feel so fucking happy just hearing that small confession. I hold his hand tighter. "I'm happy to teach you."

  "Good, because I need teaching." He sounds disgruntled.

  I chuckle and squeeze his arm. "It means a lot to me that you're trying."

  A'tam glances down at me, and his eyes are so, so warm and blue. My khui feels like it's on fire, thrumming and drumming under my skin. "I did not realize my actions caused you so much pain. I will do better. This I promise."

  "I will, too. I'm sorry if it feels like I keep secrets. I've done it my whole life. It's a tough habit to break."

  He grunts. "We both have things to learn, it seems."

  "We do." I glance over at the cluster of people by the fire. I see one or two glance this way, but no one approaches us. "Do you think they know? About our resonance?"

  A'tam is silent for a long moment, and that gives me an uneasy feeling. "I'rec and O'jek know," he confesses after a moment. "They confronted me when I brought my fish in."

  I cringe at the thought. "I'm not their favorite person."

  "It does not matter. You are one of Shadow Cat clan now. They will like you plenty."

  Somehow I doubt that, but it doesn't matter. Everyone on the beach gets along, more or less. Some days more, some days less, because we're all a family and we know we're in this together. I'rec and O'jek can dislike me all they want, and they'll still have to put up with me, just like I do with them.