Sorry for the wait on this one, readers...had a lot of crappy stuff going on in my world. Getting back to this is like therapy. Besides, I couldn't leave it, or you, hanging! Next chapter should be up shortly...
Usual Stupe disclaimer for the lawyers: I don't own it, I don't make money off it and I wrote it for a mature audience.
L'tor in his armor gave a whole new meaning to the term 'dressed to kill'. Used to seeing him without, Anya actually went still when he appeared in full regalia. The sight of him brought her a wash of memories, the most prominent one of her standing frozen at her breakfast bar while he came at her from across her living room, followed closely by the memory of sitting at her basement bar while he wandered the room, studying everything.
His step seemed heavier to her and she wondered how much weight he was carrying. The armor was a dark gunmetal grey from his shoulders to his feet: shoulder pads, chest protector, the gauntlets he habitually wore, elbow protectors, knuckledusters, a heavy belt with attached thigh protection and a flap that covered his groin. There was armor over his knees and down his calves to his ankles and heavy-looking footwear that included a wicked spike off his heel but left his clawed toes exposed.
Anya circled him, looking him over curiously. Sure, she'd seen him fully armed and armored before but she'd never really looked at him while he was wearing it. She'd been too busy not looking, trying to ignore the reality of his existence, especially as it pertained to her. Now she noticed the shoulder cannon riding his left shoulder, the large battery pack up high on his back, the flaps that covered his hips and upper arms. The armor was like metal scales, formed to sharply pointed V's that overlapped and added to his mass and bulk. She came back around in front of him and reached out to feel the protection that covered his chest, finding it hard and smooth and somewhat oily to the touch.
"You look badass," she said quietly, aware that he was watching her. "What army are you planning to take on?"
Pieces and parts of him were exposed: his belly, inner arms and legs, fingers, lower back. She could see that underneath all that armor was some sort of netting, thin wires that covered his tough hide, and she touched it curiously while L'tor made an amused sound in his throat. He used the side of his pointer finger to lift her face so he could see her eyes.
"Exercise," he rumbled.
Anya smirked; a yautja's idea of 'exercise' was interesting, to say the least.
Despite the armor, L'tor still moved soundlessly through the jungle ahead of Anya. She began to make sense of its strange configuration as it allowed him full freedom of movement, and whatever its weight it didn't seem to slow him down in the least. While she normally found him eye-catching, she was finding it harder than usual to take her eyes off him now, moving like an automaton behind him and occasionally oblivious to her surroundings or heading as she settled her attention on his back.
It was steamy, with moist pools of mist that gathered in depressions underfoot or clung to bunches of tightly grouped vegetation. There was a constant dripping and plopping from the huge leaves of the plants around them, a steady pattering that blended with a low-frequency sound that she was vaguely aware were coming from the lizard-things. Hard to tell what they were, exactly, because they blended in so well and darted into hiding if she dared to look directly at them. Best as she could tell, they were like little geckos, going silent at their approach and skittering across the surfaces of the leaves as they passed.
There were much larger beasts, too, that moved almost as quietly as the geckos. Huge shapes in the mist, with long necks, short stumpy legs and humped backs. Elephant-sized brontosaurs with short trunks and thick tails that didn't reach the ground. They, too, moved discretely away at their approach, with long, haunting moans that carried far in the dank air. Anya could sometimes hear the creak of tree trunks and limbs as the heavy bodies brushed slowly through them, but she supposed, based on L'tor's complete indifference to them, that not only weren't they dangerous but they also weren't worth hunting.
L'tor kept a fast pace like he was heading to a specific place with a definite purpose, and at times Anya fell behind and had to jog to catch up, staying wary of the footing. The canopy of growth overhead was spotty, allowing for light to reach the ground and leading to a profusion of ground cover in spots. She wound her way around these places, leery of sticking her foot into anything that might be harboring something that could trip her or bite her.
As always on these excursions, it took her a bit to settle in and relax from her initial need to see everything and get somewhat used to it. The exercise, too, stretched her muscles, got her blood pumping and helped loosen her up.
She couldn't help it; she felt good. Maybe she'd been existing under the drain of the cancer she hadn't been consciously aware of for so long that, now cured of it, she felt like a million bucks physically. Better than she could ever remember feeling. While she'd always been in good shape she hadn't had the best eating habits, and she could tell now in the refined leanness and tautness of her body that her fat reserves had been trimmed. She wondered what L'tor would think of her pizza-and-beer for dinner at least three times a week habit. Topped off with either ice cream, cookies or brownies for dessert.
She circumnavigated a wide pool of mist, her nose detecting its rotting methane stink. The air here tasted a little acidic, but while not entirely pleasant, she wasn't feeling any alarming side-effects like light-headedness or nausea.
Up ahead of her, L'tor grunted, and she heard the long, low moan of another of those dinosaur-things. When she caught up to him she saw them lumbering off into the jungle, abandoning the small clearing where they must have been browsing. She got a good look in the better light and saw they were a drab, uniform gray, their snorkely snouts twitching and flexing, their steps ponderous. L'tor chuffed and tossed his head threateningly as if he were more aggressively moving them along, and the nearest one surged off a bit more quickly. He'd come to a halt at the edge of the clearing and growled in warning until the rest respected his authority and picked up the pace. The trunk of the nearest one seemed to swell, then it loosed a steady, rising moan that resonated uncomfortably in Anya's chest at its peak before easing back down. As they drifted off, she looked sideways at L'tor with a small smile and said what had been on her mind for awhile.
"Sexy fucking beast," she murmured under her breath and through her teeth.
L'tor heard her and stiffened, then turned to face her. She smirked, then heard the distinctive snikt of his ki'cti-pa, his wristblades. When she moved her eyes to look she saw that only a single blade was extended and she blinked, surprised. She didn't know he could do that. He growled and stepped closer, his posture proud and preening, then circled behind her. She stood her ground as he touched the flat of the blade against the side of her leg, cold alien steel, impervious to nicks, cuts, breakage and the acidic blood of the kaindhe amedha. He shifted the belt of her lower covering up with the back of the blade, then changed its angle and caught the hip-string of her thong, slicing through it easily. She opened her mouth to protest and he growled again, threateningly this time. He circled to stand in front of her again, reaching out to repeat the move on her opposite hip. Her once-sexy but now worn little thong tickled as it slid down her legs and pooled at her feet. He'd hated it since day one and though she'd gotten into the habit of wearing it less often in an attempt to get used to going without, she hadn't entirely weaned herself off her last article of human clothing.
"What'd you go and do that for?" she asked as he flexed his wrist and withdrew the single blade of his ki'cti-pa. He abruptly lunged for her and caught her around the hips with his huge hands, turning and setting her on a nearby fallen tree limb she hadn't noticed was there. He let go of her with one hand to undo his loincloth and armored codpiece, letting them fall to the ground as he flipped the front drape of her lower covering aside and pressed himself between her legs. "...oh," she said, her voice small.
He rumbled when he found her receptive, pausing long enough to aggressively rub himself against her, stimulating them both. Her legs came up and wrapped around his bare waist, her knees folding over his hips so her lower legs could pull him closer. She leaned back on the limb, tilting her hips up in blatant invitation. He shifted back enough to set himself at her entrance, then growled and pushed, pumping himself inside her with small thrusts. Anya huffed and threw her head back, rocking in time to meet him, feeling his heat all around her and the amplified core of it forcing itself between her legs. He wasn't purring; he was growling, holding hard to her hips and taking her aggressively.
He was in his element, armored and armed and kitted out the way he would for any hunt on any planet, his growls and grunts muffled by his mask, his breathing already rough and uneven. The sounds and sensations sent a surge of memories through his blood, exciting him further. He was yautja, hunter extraordinaire and supreme, dominant and deadly. The female in his hands was warm and soft, tight and wet. She was whispering small, barely intelligible words of encouragement and pleasure as he bred her, arching against him, her small hands clutching behind his elbows, her nails biting into his skin. It urged him on to greater aggression, fueling a lust that was already ripe. He lifted her off the branch and pulled her against himself, forcing his way inside her with brute strength curbed just enough to not damage her. She cried out loudly at his brutal taking of her body, her nails digging deep as she arched and responded, squeezing him tightly between her thighs.
Without hesitation he continued pumping savagely, again pinning her against the limb, listening to her huff with his every thrust. It thrilled him and he growled angrily. Mine, all mine. She initiated it, she asked for it, and even now her body wasn't denying him. She squirmed against him, battering his buttocks with her heels and yowling like a female in heat as he took her, as he gave her what she'd been feasting her eyes on and wanting. Yautja. Predator. Male.
Her breathing grew shaky and her body trembled as he pounded into her, then she went rigid and gasped. He felt her clenching him tight inside like she was holding him in her hand and squeezing rhythmically, her body pulling at him as he continued to thrust while she came. He shivered, a great, massive shudder that rippled through his entire body, then started grunting as he responded with his own release.
After, he purred as they both caught their breath, his aggression replaced by ever building affection for this ooman female. He had expected to breed her as a matter of course and duty, for the sole purpose of impregnating her. Not this, never this. Breeding for pleasure. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to, and because she wanted to.
"Holy shit," Anya panted, and leaned against him. "I was right: you are one sexy fucking beast." She ran her hand down his dappled and scarred upper arm along the edge of his armor, a gentle, slow caress as they relaxed and enjoyed the soothing peace. "That was pretty awesome," she said quietly.
L'tor rumbled over the purr, agreeing. It had been a pleasurable outing; it felt good to wear his armor again, to move through the wilderness to keep his skills sharp and his senses honed. He'd kept part of his awareness on his female charge moving along at her own pace, exploring the strange jungle of this hostile world without fear or care, trusting in his ability to keep her safe. And then she'd said it, that thing that for a moment he debated was complimentary or insulting. His blood had been up and he was well into the zone, the state of zen he entered into on every hunt. It was a persona he wore when he donned his armor, a condition of being that flipped a switch as it enhanced and sharpened his senses. He had decided her remark was complimentary. That it was an invitation. It had redirected his attention from restrained hunting and scouting to taking advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself, the need to satisfy himself in another way.
He was pleased with her response; he didn't know how he would have reacted if she'd refused him. Then again, he didn't recall giving her much of a chance to refuse. He saw, he took, he came. Now he wasn't so tense as he had been. He realized now that a part of him had been frustrated by the slow pace, by the need to restrain himself from moving too far from Anya, by her inability to keep his pace. That frustration had been eliminated now and he rumbled again through his purr. Unfortunately they were not in a place where they could settle down for a nap on his sleeping pallet, safe and warm. They were still in the middle of an alien jungle, and night was coming.
He lifted his head, using the ability of his mask to enhance his senses as he carefully scanned their surroundings. The noise of their breeding could have attracted unwelcome attention from any number of potential threats. It was time to get moving again.
Anya winced as he tugged himself out of her; their aggressive breeding had been rapid and rough and had left them both sensitive. He donned his loincloth and heavy armored codpiece, and his belt that housed his kit and other necessities. He searched for and found her ruined undergarment, tucking it into a pouch on his belt. He had no desire to leave any trace of their having been here, a lesson ingrained into him from the time of his training. Eliminate all evidence and all witnesses. If failure during a hunt was imminent any Blooded yautja was equipped with a self-destruct device capable of not only vaporizing his remains and equipment, but everything else in a large area around him.
He brushed his palm across Anya's cheek and turned, listening as she followed. Once he was moving again his mind returned to hunter mode and he cast out his awareness to stay alert for traps, threats or dangers. As soon as he felt the strength return to his limbs, and sure that Anya was on the right path and heading in the direction he'd picked, he leapt up into a tree and climbed for the canopy, keying in his invisibility cloak. Training, ever training. Exert yourself, push your limits, force your mind and body to disciplined action. Master Ci'tde's words, and they'd resonated with L'tor ever since he'd first heard them. It, along with the Hunter's Code, had become part of his personal code, the Path he lived and breathed by.
The low, steady clicks from a small speaker in his helmet ensured him that Anya was moving steadily below him. If she changed her direction or her speed or if she stopped he would know instantly, whether or not she was in sight of him. And she stopped often, curious about damned near everything. L'tor had had basic curiosity beaten out of him while he was still a pup, like most yautja. He didn't pay attention beyond necessary to small native creatures and he didn't notice plants unless they had the potential to kill or injure him. Views, forget about it. You stopped to take in the vista when you were scanning for potential prey or trying to find a path across it. But Anya saw beauty and wonder in views, wanted to know how things worked, and held a fascination for how things moved or reacted or behaved. In her size and in this way she seemed childish to him sometimes, though he was fast developing an appreciation for her views. She was very different than a yautja, the only creatures he'd ever socialized with. And for L'tor, if he wasn't fighting or hunting he was talking or thinking about fighting or hunting. She could chatter on about the six-legged whatsis for an hour.
He snorted, the sound muffled in his mask. A whatsis was an Anya word for just about anything. He was rapidly becoming familiar with her quirky way of speaking and catching on to her colorful vocabulary and her ability to damn near describe anything with words he had never heard before. Females, at least his, talked a lot. He preferred action and wordless verbalizations to communicate. Body language figured very heavily into yautja communication and he was adept at reading it. The body doesn't lie, whether about fear or anger or pain or distrust or any of a number of sensations and feelings. Words could contradict the body language so he didn't put much stock in them. Yautja lie, oomans lied. It was a wiser course to watch the more subtle signs and signals of posture, tension, expression, scent, tone, breathing and stance.
The clicks stopped and he used his left mandible to key up a reading of her vital signs as he paused in his movements, clinging to the bark of a tree with his claws, his whole weight supported by fingers and toes. Anya's heart rate and temperature were both a little on the high side; he should have viewed a baseline reading before setting out, since this just might be the aftereffects of their breeding. The implant he'd embedded inside her not only gave him the ability to track her but it also reported her vitals on request. It was coming in handy since she stopped often to examine everything.
She wasn't far and he wasn't taking chances with her elevated signs, since they could be indicating a fear response to something she was seeing. He did a quick scan of his surroundings then launched off the trunk he was clinging to, catching hold of another twelve feet away. As always, his movements were smooth and powerful, the sound of his passage in the canopy damned near silent as he was careful to time his release and catch on the bark in order to slip his claws as silently in and out as possible. He didn't rip and shred through the trees and he left no obvious sign behind of having been there as he worked his way down and closer to her position. He didn't doubt that Anya had no idea of where he was or that he was close and moving closer. He could see her looking into some heavier brush around a jumble of rocks at the base of a small rise. Suspended upside down, his weight on his hands and the claws on his toes dug into the bark for leverage, he flicked through visual modes in his mask as he peered at the place she was staring.
Big heat signature.
He grunted and let himself drop headfirst, then pushed off the trunk with his hands then his feet to make a horizontal leap for a branch on a tree close to twenty feet away. He hit it close to the trunk to minimize the risk that it would shudder and give away his presence. The move had sent him over Anya's head and closer to the large animal hiding in the brush, but he was still a hundred feet overhead. Whatever it was, it was closer to Anya than he was, a wholly unacceptable situation for a potentially dangerous creature.
The clicks had started and he could see her backing slowly away. Her heart rate and temperature had both continued to climb, and her posture was rigid. The tattoo, he could see now, was doing its job, the dyes reacting to her physical agitation and glowing more brightly to advertise her status as a claimed female of the yautja, a signpost to warn off most civilized beings. Whatever the thing in the brush was, she was clearly feeling threatened by it. L'tor started moving again, circling them both as he tried to get a fix on what it was and if it truly posed a threat as he made his way out of the canopy in a series of successive leaps that steadily lowered his altitude. He was still fully cloaked, though well aware that movement while cloaked could still be seen.
When he dropped down heavily next to Anya she jumped with a startled cry. There was a rustle from the brush twenty feet from her, then the head of a creature appeared and stared at them. It was unknown to L'tor, except for a few key facts: it was sizable, it was warm-blooded and it was alone. The size of the head was perplexing, since it seemed too small for the body he'd marked from the canopy.
"What is it?" Anya whispered. L'tor grunted. Just because he'd hunted here before didn't mean he was familiar with every creature on the planet's surface. And he'd learned that once his kind eliminated the top of the food chain, surprising things happened to those in the middle. The vacuum at the top created a mutation war as other creatures of different species raced to fill in the slot. It was possible he could be looking at something he'd seen three hundred years ago but in a much smaller and less potentially dangerous form, something that hadn't even caught his notice during his focus on the hunt.
The smell hit him now, like rotting flesh, even through the filters in his mask. The creature was either rank or it had meat cached in the brush and it was feeding. Carnivore, check. But whether killer or carrion feeder he still didn't know. The brush moved as it advanced slowly, revealing its huge body and the source of the odor: it had another creature, something smaller and different, clutched in the appendages under its belly. The shoulders were massive and powerful, the forelimbs long and heavily muscled. In comparison the hind limbs were tiny, the back cresting with bristling hairs at its hump before drooping sharply to small hips. The head was tiny, the eyes huge, wrapping around either side. Visual predator, L'tor decided, rapidly taking in the details and analyzing them against a lifetime of experience encountering alien animals. The appendages between the front and hind limbs held the carcass to its belly, and judging from the creature's mouthparts it fed off of body fluids.
Beside him, Anya took one step back, then another. She stayed quiet and made no abrupt movements, but she was clearly uneasy. L'tor had the sense that the creature was focused on her, that she was a prey item of a size and type to its preference. He uncloaked and flexed his wrist to release his ki'cti-pa, drawing the creature's attention to him. Despite its unpleasant odor and the small trophy potential of its head, if it decided to be aggressive he was more than willing to meet it in kind. It shifted to take him in, mouthparts moving as if it was debating its options, then it continued forward.
Annoyed by its total lack of fear and continued fixation on Anya, L'tor stepped forward to meet it and keep it from coming closer to her. It didn't look like much of a jumper, based on those puny hind legs, but he was experienced enough to know he'd been deceived by appearances before. The thing hesitated and shifted to face him, manipulating the carcass it held against its belly before dropping it and moving away from it. L'tor watched as it tried to make its way around him to get to Anya. Decoy. It had dropped a rancid bundle of skin and bones in hopes that he would be attracted to it and leave Anya to the thing. Whether this amazing ploy was due to instinct or cleverness, it pissed L'tor off.
He growled, done with the game now that the thing had proven it was intent on his mate. This time when he advanced it moved away, then changed direction to try circling to the other side. It passed the carcass it had so recently abandoned and L'tor realized it was trying again to use it to distract him from pursuing it. It recognized a threat in him but a potential meal in Anya and its relentlessness gave L'tor pause as he continued to assess it. Could just add up to an overabundance of stupid, or it could just mean that it was a tactic that worked on every other creature it encountered on this planet. He wondered, though, if there might be others, if they might hunt cooperatively. If the others were as adamant about seeing Anya as prey despite L'tor's nearby presence, spending any more time on this planet was out unless he understood what their strengths and weaknesses and limitations were.
"An'eya," he said quietly. "Dt."
She tore her eyes off the horrible looking thing with the scary fucked-up mouth and looked at L'tor. Deet...tree. He was telling her to climb. It spooked her because she wondered what he was seeing that she wasn't, and why he wasn't frying the thing with the cannon on his shoulder. She checked its position and watched it continue its back and forth dance with L'tor as it stared at her and tried to find a way around him, then she hurriedly checked the surrounding trees for one suitable for her to climb. Spotting one with its lowest limb almost eight feet up, she checked the position of the stinky tube mouth thing one more time before bolting. She needed speed to get herself up to that limb, knowing full well she couldn't jump up eight feet from a standstill. She could hear the sound of pursuit behind her, a heavy body crashing through the undergrowth as she rapidly mapped out her path and built up her momentum. A stride away she launched off a partially buried boulder and caught the branch, hoisting herself up quickly before immediately ascending the next two limbs. As she did, the thing pursuing her hit the trunk of the tree below her, standing up on its hind limbs with its front legs braced against the trunk, clearly large enough to reach the bottom limb and making her happy that her disgust had pushed her up out of its immediate reach. It dropped back down to all fours while she crouched on the limb, circling the tree and staring up at her with ice-cold calculation.
Her head came up as L'tor settled on the next tree over, crouching on a huge limb with his elbows resting on his huge thighs and his hands dangling between. He was watching the thing circle, then he looked at her, cocked his head and said, "Jiwei." She blinked. Lower? Was he out of his fucking mind? "Jiwei," he said again, his tone harder with command as she hesitated.
Okay, so apparently he wanted her to bait the damn thing for some reason. If she slipped and fell she was going to be pissed but for now she chose to trust him. Gathering her nerve, she slid off the branch she was sitting on and steadied herself on the lower one. The thing circling her tree immediately leaped up, reaching for her with wickedly curved talons, the centermost one like a huge grappling hook. She saw the triangle of glowing red dots on the side of its small head that told her that L'tor had locked on his target and was prepared to blow the thing's head off if it got too close for his comfort. Already it was too close for Anya's comfort. It lunged a few times but apparently wasn't a jumper or a climber. The smell, though, was almost enough to make her woozy enough to knock her off the branch she was so precariously balanced on.
It danced around for awhile, creepily silent and apparently unable to blink before it finally gave up. When it dropped back to all fours the laser site followed it unerringly, never wavering from its location on the side of the thing's head. The tube mouth worked as it stared up at her a little while longer, then it turned away and headed for whatever grisly thing it had dropped earlier. When it reached it, the thing positioned itself to face Anya and settled down, poking its proboscis into the carcass.
Anya looked at L'tor and said, "Fucker's gonna wait me out," her voice a little horrified. She'd never been hunted before and it turned out she wasn't enjoying the experience.
"Sei-i," he agreed, coming to the same conclusion. He looked away from the thing and shifted, then leaped across the fifteen feet separating them and caught hold of the tree trunk just above her. Part of the reason he was able to do that, besides sheer strength and strong claws, was the length and arrangement of his clawed toes. They weren't pressed together like human toes; they were longer, stronger, and clearly separated, and his 'big' toe was more of a functioning dewclaw located nearer the arch of his foot. The combination gave him a superior climbing ability, a vicious kick, and better overall balance.
Moving with confidence he stepped onto the branch that Anya was occupying and motioned for her to grab hold. The thing, he knew, was watching, and he had one more question he wanted an immediate answer to. He rumbled as she climbed onto his back and linked her arms around his throat, folding her strong legs around his middle, then he hitched her up a little higher and reset her grip around his neck. Satisfied, he set his claws into the bark and started moving around the tree, lining up to the next nearest one. Anya clung to him as he leapt to it, a short eight-foot hop, making sure that he stayed in full view of the thing. Another short hop, then another that brought him lower to the ground. At that, the thing that was fixated on Anya rose to its feet and moved powerfully after them, following his progress through the trees. The message was clear, then: it was far too interested in her to be allowed to live, and L'tor could guess with reasonable certainty that others of its kind would be, too.
He growled and climbed to a suitable branch overhead. Reaching it, he rumbled, "Ki'cte." Enough.
"Bout fucking time," Anya muttered, still mystified as to why he'd wanted to play games with the thing. It was circling the tree's trunk like a wolf, looking up at them. She took her cue to dismount, climbing carefully off L'tor and onto the wide branch where he'd chosen to deposit her.
"Bee arby," L'tor said once she was securely settled, and she giggled, taken offguard. Bee arby was his version of BRB, be right back. His humor still caught her by surprise, especially when he chose to show it in the midst of a bizarre circumstance like this. It reminded her that this was just another day at the office for him and not the scary life-threatening situation it would be were she alone.
He shifted, leaped to the next tree, then dropped to the leaf litter. The thing turned its head to look when he hit the ground in a crouch, one hand splayed between his spread feet. It stared as he rose to his full height and extended his blades, then dismissed him entirely to return its attention to Anya in the tree.
If there was one thing yautja pride could not tolerate, it was being ignored. L'tor growled darkly, even more annoyed, then stomped closer, each step a threat and a warning. Just when it seemed that the thing would blithely allow him to walk right up to it and separate its small head from its bulky body, it looked at him again, then turned away. It sidled into the underbrush, tail dragging behind it, and he paused to listen to its retreat. He could pursue it, of course. Hunt it down and kill it.
"Good job!" Anya called from overhead, then he heard her giggle. For a second he sensed her mocking as insult, then he rumbled and retracted his blades, then flexed his shoulders. It wasn't worth hunting and killing, and the threat it had posed to her was over for now. The idea of eating such a creature didn't appeal to him in the least, and he wasn't some newBlood desperate enough for trophies to take even something as pathetic as this.
What was clear to him, though, was that this outing was over, and that he needed to hunt. He turned and looked up at Anya, crouched on the branch, one hand on the tree's trunk for balance. Time to return her to the safety of his ship and map out a more challenging trip for himself, one that would require to her stay behind.
"The way I see it, you have two choices," Anya said boldly, holding up two fingers. "Either you take me with you or you take me home. I'm not staying here by myself."
"H'ko," L'tor growled, bristling at her sheer audacity. "You will stay here and wait for my return."
"No." She made no attempt to speak in his language or use his words; she was that pissed off, and that terrified of the thought of being left alone. If anything happened to him she would be stranded and left to die alone. She didn't know how to operate the ship and she had no way of acquiring food or water or air or any of the essentials if they were to start running out. The ship would become a floating coffin in the treacherous and ice-cold vacuum of space, with millions of miles of nothing and no one around her. She could deal with that reality as long as L'tor was here, competent and capable, able to fix, to navigate, to communicate. The mere thought of doing it alone made her shudder. "No way," she said again.
Thoroughly annoyed with her, L'tor growled and debated what to do with her. She had to learn to spend time alone while he hunted. There was no way he would bring her with him on every outing or take her back to her home planet. He had expected that the first few times would be difficult, that she would object, but her defiance in this actually surprised him.
"Not for debate," he rumbled.
"I agree! There's nothing to discuss!" she snapped.
"An'eya..." He said her name in a low growl filled with menace and threat.
"No."
She did not do alone. She always knew she had a phobia about it, mild but there. Turned out the phobia was the size of Moby Dick, and that when L'tor jammed a harpoon into it, it rose from the depths of her awareness and made her realize just how overpoweringly big it was. Alone in her house was one thing; there were neighbors, a cellphone, a car, and a doorbell that rang with comforting regularity. Here there was nothing. No one.
Panic welled as he stared at her, clearly unmoved by her refusal. He could do it. Leave her here. And there would be nothing she could do about that fact, short of venting her anger by tearing the place apart while he was gone, a distinct possibility. Clearly the decision had already been made, and apparently the plans, too. He was dressed for hunting, ready to go.
"Will bring new trophies," he told her. "Will bring good eating," he added, hoping it would entice her.
"Good. I'll help you carry them."
"H'ko, An'eya."
"Hukko it out your ass!" she blurted, desperate.
L'tor cocked his head, listening to her tone and taking in her body language. He'd hoped for a quick explanation before he took his leave, and he was eager to go. Not that Anya displeased him in any way but he missed hunting. It was what he was born and bred to do, and the need to be on his own, to be moving and finding a worthy opponent to challenge had his blood up. It had been, he realized, far too long. He enjoyed his outings with her but there was no way she could come along for this. She wouldn't be able to keep up for one thing, and she'd be in far too much danger for another. Focusing on her safety could get them both killed and he knew it.
But for some odd reason, she was afraid. Certainly it wasn't because of him; she was practically screaming at him. She was familiar and comfortable with his ship and he'd prepared more than enough food for her to eat while he was gone.
"C'mon. I'll be your sherpa," she said, making him tilt his head further. "I'm good at carrying shit. Ze best."
"An'sha'i, An'eya," he rumbled quietly. It was his final warning; he'd made his decision and he was ready to go. Her insistence was only delaying him, since she seemed to be having trouble accepting that she wasn't going to stop him.
"Don't do this," she responded, her voice just as quiet. "Don't you leave me here alone. I promise you I will have the mother of all panic attacks and freak the fuck out and shit will get broken. Mostly me."
He studied her, aware of her harsh breathing and elevated heart rate. "Short kv'var," he said, deciding to amend his original plans. He could not allow her to dictate what he could and could not do, but clearly she was distressed. He recalculated and decided to shorten his first hunt, to ease her into getting used to spending time alone on his ship.
Short hunt. Anya snorted. Time was still a sketchy thing between them and she didn't doubt for a second that what L'tor would consider to be quick might very well feel like an eternity to her.
"Ki'cte," he warned, sensing her continued defiance and telling her to stand down. "You will eat three meals. You will sleep. Then I will return." What sounded like a command was an attempt on his part to clarify the length of time he intended to be gone, another concession on his part. His patience was thinning and he didn't think he was prepared to make many more. "Gkei'moun." Simple.
"And what if you don't?" Anya wanted to know, making him bristle with outrage. Not return from a hunt? Him? Did she think so little of him to level such an insult?
He glared at her through his mask, knowing that she saw his reaction and that she damn well understood what it meant. She stood her ground with continued defiance, though, her posture rigid with unspoken demand that he answer her question and consider such an outrageous possibility that, to him, didn't bear contemplation. All hunters met the Black Warrior eventually. To worry about such a thing was to waste time and prove oneself unworthy to be a hunter.
When he paused to consider her question, though, he realized what she was asking. What would become of Anya if he failed to return? Ah. That was what she feared. Being abandoned to die a slow death on his ship would be a dishonorable thing. His mane relaxed as he considered her point and agreed with it. He had the right to hunt but he was doing her a disservice by not providing options for her in the event that he was unsuccessful.
Reaching up, he disconnected the lines to his mask and lifted it off his face. This needed to be addressed immediately for her peace of mind. Very well, then...change of plans. He would delay this first hunt since taking possession of Anya in order to set up a safeguard for her in the unlikely event that she would find herself abandoned. This would give him the opportunity to possibly reforge an old alliance he'd been contemplating in the back of his mind for some time.
He briskly turned from her and walked away, heading for the bridge of his ship as his mind worked. He'd had a powerful mei'hswei, hunt brother, during his time as a student under Master Ci'tde, one able to match him in strength and speed and cunning. They'd grown up together, trained together, even Blooded together. And after, they'd kept their strong bond and had joined a hunting pack together, continuing to challenge each other as the years passed and the number of hunts under their belts grew.
Unfortunately, that time was long ago. Their bond had weakened when L'tor had challenged the pack's Leader and successfully took over the position. His mei'hswei became resentful of his higher position and their brotherhood was irreparably damaged, to the point where they were now the greatest of rivals. Daily L'tor could feel Lar'nix'va breathing down his neck, matching his trophy for trophy, his victory for victory. Lar'nix'va had become successful as well, highly ranked and regarded, wise and wealthy though still temperamental and resentful against L'tor. He had no aspirations to be titled an Elder and L'tor didn't doubt he would be content to remain at his current rank until he died.
It had been, to L'tor's unending surprise, Lar'nix'va who had emerged from the crowd to test An'eya's Clan marking, the one she referred to as the Statue of Liberty. As his old mei'hswei had developed a reputation for being a loner, L'tor hadn't even been aware that Lar'nix'va was on the clan ship. No doubt his rare visit had been necessitated by a shortage of parts or supplies, but L'tor did not believe in chance or coincidence. The gods honored those who followed their Path and took advantage of the gifts they were presented with, and L'tor saw an opportunity.
He'd seen the way Lar'nix'va had appraised his mate, going so far as to offer her blatant invitation following the successful testing of her tattoo. Lar'nix'va was bold and assertive and aggressive, his civility so thinly veiled that it made him unsuitable for consideration as a Master teacher. He did what he wanted, took what he wanted, and made himself accountable to no one. It was obvious that he still held L'tor in great respect, enough that despite his rudeness he'd chosen not to openly challenge him for Anya. There was still the possibility that when the time officially came for challenges to L'tor's claim, Lar'nix'va would make an appearance.
The only other option available to L'tor would be to return to the clan ship now, face any challengers to his claim, then complete the final alteration that would bond them and allow Anya to gestate his pups. After that, he could leave her there in the company of others while he left to hunt. That was the acceptable option, the one expected of him as it would also bond him more closely to the clan ship.
He was not, however, and never had been, one to take the usual path. Stepping one foot into the shared space of the breeding ooman females had made him aware of their distrust and animosity in reaction to his presence. Though others might argue that he was choosing a harder course, he would disagree. It had taken work and effort to tame Anya, but now he had a female who was comfortable and pleased in his presence, who could be trusted, who was compliant, who was not only receptive to his advances but who initiated mating herself.
And if he was to leave her on the clan ship to go hunting, what of his death then? He would be leaving her fate up to the decision of others and she would have no guarantee of safety or security. Vicious as Lar'nix'va could be, L'tor knew he did not disrespect females. Even while hunting on the ooman planet, L'tor had seen Lar'nix'va intervene in an attempted forcible mating between a female and three males, hunting them down with a vengeance before returning to the female and leading her to the nearest ooman settlement. He'd chuffed in disgust at L'tor's asking if he would take the males' skulls for trophies, saying that they weren't worthy and he'd smashed them. While Lar'nix'va wasn't opposed to stalking and capturing a female in heat for his own pleasure he didn't brutalize or damage them in the course of breeding them, and he rather enjoyed when they put up a good fight...as did L'tor. Knowing what he now knew about oomans and their emotions, L'tor supposed that their sport had damaged the females in ways not physical, though at the time he'd assumed that, once released unharmed, the females would shake the incident off and go on with their lives, even telling himself they should be honored by his attention. Such a thing was as outlawed now as hunting the males, unless the female was receptive and willing.
He sighed quietly, waiting for his communication to be hopefully received and responded to. Anya would put up a good fight for Lar'nix'va, provided he was patient enough to let her become comfortable with him. She'd shown him her spirit and boldness and L'tor knew he was intrigued.
In the event such a decision had to be made, L'tor would prefer An'eya to go to Lar'nix'va before any other. True, they were blood rivals, but there wasn't a yautja L'tor respected more than his mei'hswei, and though they weren't friends, they weren't enemies, either. Despite Lar'nix'va's personal history with him, L'tor knew him to not only be honorable and worthy, but a yautja few would dare to cross. If Lar'nix'va agreed to the arrangement, An'eya would be assured of some stability, instead of the possibility of being bartered away or taken after a successful challenge if L'tor chose a less highly ranked yautja to inherit her in the event of his death.