There is an animal impulse to spread her legs and thrust myself inside her, claim that channel that I know awaits me, hot, soft, clenching flesh that grips any rod plunged inside it with a greedy need for seed.
I know the effect our kind have on human females. I also know that it would a bad idea to mate with her out here in the open. The skies are clear for the moment, but they always come looking for their ships when we bring them down, and I want to be back under cover.
She is showing signs of being unable to contain herself. I can smell her desire, feel the viscous juices of a woman in heat. She is ready to be fucked, long and hard, and I will give her every bit of flesh she’s begging for. But not on her terms. On mine. And not while we are out here, exposed to anything that might fly by and become curious.
We need to get back underground. Soon enough, the Vargons will come and inspect the debris, as they always do. We are not afraid of the Vargons. We despise them, and we prefer that they do not know where we are.
I want to let this little human know that she is safe, but I cannot let her give in to her desire. Not yet.
She’s very beautiful. She’s a treasure. A delicate little thing who has been brutalized the same way the Vargons brutalize everything. They are acid. Corrosive. We are fire. Both our species are naturally destructive, but we are warriors and they are nothing but opportunistic slime.
The rocks disguise the entrance to the underground, a passage that winds down to the subterranean lair where we make our homes. The human presses tighter to me as darkness envelops her. She cannot see down here the way we can.
To my gaze, the world below ground is far more beautiful than the one above. There is more subtlety, more richness. Veins of ores run through the rock, which begins red and gradates through to the black obsidian where we make our homes.
There is an urge to take the human to my personal burrow, to give into the instinct between us, but she must be presented. Every new lander on the planet must be seen by the eyes of the council. They are old, older than the world itself, so it is said, and they make the judgement of life or death.
She clings to me. She clings to life. I would already die to save her, but the elders need to see her. The planet has called her, but they must welcome her. The others have gone ahead and announced her discovery, I am sure. The elders will be gathered in the first chamber to greet and pass judgement.
I do not think the cleaning party is done yet. When their task is complete, the debris of the ship will be gathered and secreted below the sands. In a few hours, there will be no evidence of the crash whatsoever. There will only be her, my human conquest.
Sure enough, the lamps are lit outside the grand chamber that stands beneath the earth at the entrance to our world. All newcomers find themselves in this chamber. Not many ever leave it.
We guard our world jealously. We do not allow outsiders beneath the sands but in one capacity. As possessions. If this human survives, it will be as my owned property.
“M’uklahk dizlahk sisi vinu.”
I tell them that I am here with a new lander. They already know that. They already know everything, but it doesn’t feel right to walk into their presence without saying a word.
“Ehkbal ignu, M’uklahk,” they reply as one.
I look down at the human. She is peering out from my arms. I know she can’t see very much, but I also know her curiosity may cause her to make obscene, irreverent eye contact with an elder. They are the ones who gaze, not the ones who are gazed upon.
“Be quiet,” I warn her, as I bring her into their presence. “Close your eyes. Be still.”
The elders are not as we are. I am young. Powerful. Warrior. They are old, wizened, hardened like the rocks. Even I know better than to look upon them and try to make out their features.
The human follows my directions. She whimpers and hides her head in my hair, burrowing in deeply. She is wise to hide, but she could cover herself completely and it would do nothing. The way they see has nothing to do with eyes.
“Ezsack disvil.”
They command me to present her in the old words. I stand in the center of the chamber and I let her curl into me. She can’t see them, but I have no doubt she senses them. Their presence is strong. Dark. Powerful. I feel her trembling against me as she tries to hide from what cannot be hidden from.