Page 19 of Orri

We came up with a compromise after that first night. Or should I say, he did. He went out to the store and came back with these alien-size condoms that would put a magnum to shame. They make me laugh, and they come in all kinds of fun textures that heighten the experience in the bedroom, but I'd be lying if I said that some small part of me didn't want him to bareback me again.

I want to feel the hot, tight skin of his dick as he thrusts it into me. I want the full, leaking feeling of taking his cum. Even if I don't get pregnant. The ISA says that's only possible with genetic matches, anyway. That's why the organization exists in the first place. The alpha mutation in the Aesirheim aliens makes them, or should I say their sperm, verrrry picky when it comes to finding a suitable womb.

Even an omega in heat sometimes isn't enough. It has to be a match not only emotionally, but also physically. To tell you the truth, my eyes glazed over during a lot of the information sessions I sat there at the ISA headquarters. I had much more pressing things on my mind at the time.

Like getting off-world as soon as possible to escape my no-good ex Adik.

But that's all behind me now. I'm millions of miles away on an alien planet. He can't hurt me anymore.

So why do I still feel so vulnerable? I wrap my arms around myself and stand, grabbing the fluffy robe hanging on the stand next to the tub. Even it's the height of luxury, the soft fabric clinging to my every curve keeps me warm and cozy as I step out of the bathroom.

The bed's actually made for the first time since coming here. All those other times, we were too possessed by heat to care about the sheets and blankets. It's a good sign that I was able to focus enough to make the bed this time. Means that at last, the heat's finally dissipating. Maybe I can go back to some semblance of a normal life now.

Ha, normal. My life is anything but.

I think back to last night. I tossed and turned in the king sized bed, the mattress and fluffy pillows feeling more suffocating than comfortable. Every other night, Orri had slept by my side. I told myself it was just because we were both so exhausted, but as I lay there staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, I wondered if there was more to it.

I shake my head. No, I had just gotten used to his presence, that's all. And Orri must have noticed, too, because he came to my room in the middle of the night, complaining about the very same thing.

I'd be a fool to think it meant anything other than a platonic gesture. Just two lost souls helping each other out when they needed it most.

But would it be so bad to be his? My hand floats to my stomach again. To bear his child?

Gulping, I shake my head again. No sense in following that train of thought. It won't happen. Can't happen.

Not after Bjornick. And not after Zannah. My heart aches when I remember the story he told me. How he'd lost someone dear to him as well, and how he never really stopped loving her.

Even if I did care for Orri in that way, we could never truly be together. Both of us still had our hearts set on another, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us unless we had our full heart to give.

My throat closes up with the emotion of it all. But I'm trying to get back to a 'normal' daily schedule, as much as I can anyway. Bjornick's loss is still fresh in my chest, but there's another piece sitting there now, too. Orri, his warmth and strength and vulnerability.

There's nothing I can do about it, though. So I take a deep breath and step outside the cottage, hoping that some fresh air will do me good.

The moment I step outside, I'm hit with the same familiar scent that has surrounded me for the last week. Orri's here. And he's close.

I sniff the air again and a curl of warmth trickles down my spine before settling between my legs. I came out here to get fresh air, but it looks like I'll be getting anything but.

Before I can think better of it, my legs start moving and I follow the scent, curious to see what Orri's up to.

I hear the sounds before I see them. A rhythmic, metallic clanging, over and over. There's grunting, too. The sounds of exertion mix with the clangs and as I draw closer, his scent fills me even more strongly.

When I come to a clearing, I see what he's been up to. A wooden dummy stands before him, notched and battered with age and years of practice drills. Orri, unaware of my presence, swings his sword to and fro, hitting first the backside of the dummy, then the front. He moves with a fluid grace I wouldn't expect from someone his size, but he makes it look easy.

I watch for a moment longer before revealing myself. His muscles work and flex under the strain, each flex and strike perfectly timed and executed. Sweat rolls down his bare back, shining in the day's light. My mouth waters at the sight. So much for clearing my head.

The more I watch his complementary grace and power, the more I realize just how alpha he really is. It's one thing to take the name. There are a few dozen alphas on the planet, marked by the fact that they'd all undergone genetic experiments in order to protect their planet during a war.

Even so, talk is one thing. Action is quite another. And as I stand there, transfixed by his movements, my hand drifts for the third time that day down to my belly. Unbidden thoughts flood into my mind before I can stop them. They play in my mind one frame at a time like a photo reel, and the implications leave me reeling.

Orri, using those strong arms to lift a laughing child high in the air.

Me, round with child and positively glowing.

Orri, holding a tiny hand as they walk along the beach together and pick up shells.

And there's me again. I'm in the frame with them, wearing a sunhat and carrying a wicker basket to store their finds.

It's a nice vision. An idea of what life could be like, perhaps, if things had been different. But my stomach twists in on itself when I snap back to reality. There would be no fairytale ending for me. That ship sailed long ago.

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