The buck arches his back and makes a very suggestive sound with his tongue, then descends from Strumpet only to inspect his handiwork with a good nostril dive into her nethers, at which point the entire process is repeated. These two are not just mating. They are breeding. I have no idea if that is even possible, but given my luck, Strumpet is going to shack up with some alien goat and have his babies, leaving me to fend for myself without so much as an emotional support goat to lean on.

“Okay, seriously guys. How many times… another one? Again? Really.”

He’s got to run out of alien goat semen eventually, surely. He must have ejaculated an entire vat of the stuff by now. After a couple of minutes of haplessly trying to intervene, I’m not even sure why I’m attempting to interfere. So Strumpet’s getting some. Why not. The rest of this mission has been a complete disaster. This may as well be too. But I try one last ditch effort. I try shaming her.

“Strumpet! That sort of thing leads to pregnancy. Do you know what pregnancy is? It’s when living creatures you don’t even know come out of your insides and then you have to look after them. And you swell up from your ankles to your eyebrows and you cry a lot at things you’d never usually cry at. It’s a mess. And now…”

I hear a grunting behind me. A sort of deep, booming, rough animal sound. It sounds like the end of the world clearing its throat.

“Brilliant,” I say, throwing up my arms. “Now I’m going to get fucking eaten as well. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

I turn around to see what is going to end my life on this perfectly spectacular, absolutely shitty day. I am expecting something with long, sharp teeth, and a big muscular body all the better to crush and destroy me with. My weapon is drawn without me realizing it. Maybe I was a better student than I or old Mikey thought I was, because I am ready to dispatch the threat without thought. In fact, I almost blow the head off the thing behind me before I realize what it is.

I’m looking at a male alien. Everything on this planet has horns, and he is no exception. He has horns. Big, shining, horns that bear marks and scars. His chest is bare, and his body is covered in a light fawn colored pelt of fur that does nothing to hide his wicked musculature. His hair is dark and lustrous, curling toward his shoulders, and his face is handsome and intelligent. He has a sharp jaw but powerful mandibles set in a skull made for chewing and fighting. There is something of the beast about his features. His nose is broad and flat. His eyes do not have round pupils; they are bright green and slitted horizontally, guarded by a prominent brow and dark eyebrows. I am certain his vision is better than mine, his field of view wider. His expression is alert, and just on the verge of aggressive. He is a protector guarding his territory, and I am impinging on it.

His eyes slide to me. Meet my gaze. Widen slightly before narrowing. His lips part and I see that this is no beast of prey. He is fanged, two teeth extending out over his lower lip. His lips are black. I do not know if that is a cosmetic choice, but I suspect it is a continuation of the same color that rings his eyes and marks down the sides of his nose. Those lips turn up in a smile, and the fangs become more prominent.

There’s a moment in which I could turn and run, or stand and fight. I could pull the trigger and put a hole the size of a perfectly cut dinner plate in the middle of him. These are the standard biological responses to perceiving a threat. My body picks a third path: arousal.

He is the most attractive, terrifying, incredible creature I have ever seen. The idea of leveling a weapon against him feels wrong. The idea of running away feels even worse. I am destined to stand here, agape, as he approaches me with an easy swagger. He is wearing pants made of corded fiber, a sort of hemp blend that I have no time to pay any attention to because the rest of this creature is so astonishing. He has hands like mine, but his feet are cloven. He makes a slight clicking, clopping sound over the rocky ground between us.

He leans down to look at me. Yes. I am short, and yes, he is tall. He must be at least seven feet tall. Up close, he smells quite strongly of a rich animal musk. He gleams with the scent. It must be an oil or something. Natural? Manufactured? I can’t think of anything besides that scent. I can’t think of anything but him.

I draw in a deep breath, sucking the scent in. I feel myself respond to it even more viscerally than I expected. How does he smell so rough, raw, and good at the same time? It’s like this species has invented an entirely new kind of scent. I just want to bury my face in his chest and breathe in deeply.

“Whoa…” I can’t help exclaiming.

He crooks his finger at me in a gesture that appears to be universal, inviting me closer.

Do I dare take a step toward this creature whose biology seems to be intertwined with the form of a prey species, and yet who gives out absolute alpha predator vibes?

In the end it is not a matter of what I do or do not dare. He reaches for me and takes me by the hand, sliding my weapon from my hand. My fingers relinquish the laser without a fight. I have others, of course, but that is not the point. He has disarmed me figuratively and literally with his mere presence. I look down at the place we are joined, at the paw grasping my own.

His hand is very much like mine, just much bigger and with a light down across the back of it. His palm is leathery in texture, but otherwise smooth. He is a creature designed for this wilderness, or as our scientists would say, by this wilderness. This world has made this incredible alien man who is now leading me through the trees, docile as any lamb to the slaughter.

He takes something metallic from his pocket and motions for me to open my mouth. I obey, because in this haze, obedience is the only option. I am vaguely aware that I appear to have been intoxicated by this creature. I feel compliant and submissive and happy just to be in his presence. I’ve never felt this way before. It is very out of character, a fact I’m aware of, but it doesn’t concern me.

I am a strong, independent woman. The idea of being a castaway on an alien planet thrilled me because I really don’t need anybody. Strumpet, the mandatory emotional support goat, has been nothing but trouble, but that never mattered, because I never needed anyone or anything.

I let him put the metal sliver into my mouth. I think I might let him put anything into my mouth. It covers my tongue, and when I next try to form a word, it comes out a little different. Hard to say precisely how, but it is definitely different.

He speaks to me. His voice is deep and resonant. It wraps around me in a very reassuring and strangely coherent way.

“Do you understand me, alien female?”

“Yes… how?”

“Magic.” He smiles. It may as well be magic. It feels like it. He feels like something magical, or at least mythical. An alien satyr in the flesh, a creature of lustful attraction. His eyes are full of emotion, though the pupils themselves are unsettling. He is very alien, very animal, but almost more human than a human at the same time.

“Whoa,” I say. It’s not particular coherent, but it does cover all the amazement I am feeling.

“Why were you abandoned here?” He asks me the question with gentle curiosity. He seems like someone who could be very dangerous if he wanted to be, but he is being very nice to me.

“I wasn’t abandoned. I’m an explorer. An adventurer. This is my job, to see what’s on this planet and report back.”

“I see,” he says. “Well, we won’t allow that to happen, will we?”

I shake my head. No, we won’t. I don’t know why we won’t, I just know that agreeing with him is important. There is something incredibly persuasive about him, and I don’t think it’s just his handsome looks or the raw animal magnetism he emanates. There’s something else at play, some mixture of mystical and technical. What exactly did he slip in between my lips? It must be some kind of neurochemical interface. The silver has all but dissipated on my tongue. It makes it possible for me to talk to him. I wonder what else it has done. Did he just drug me into submission?


Tags: Loki Renard Paranormal