Barbarian 2 Page 5

  Cookie Monster grits his teeth as he listens. He loves Rolanda’s hard muscles and sleek body. She is beautiful and makes Cookie Monster’s soum sing. She is tough and strong, a highly desirable trait for a mate.

  She is as fierce as a many fanged beast but as delicate and beautiful as a porsnip flower. Her eyes shine like the suns overhead and her skin is as pale and radiant as the soft grass in the valleys. She is perfect. And she belongs to Cookie Monster.

  “She is coming with Creepe, little Pontuck,” Creepe says as he steps towards the sleeping Sandroka. The powerful Cookie Monster pulls back his bow until the string is as tight as the feeling in his throat.

  “You won’t have her,” Cookie Monster warns. “You’ll have this arrow instead.”

  The vile Creepe grins in amusement. “She is coming to the Seeka tribe where she belongs.”

  Cookie Monster hisses in a breath as Creepe reaches out for her. The flick of his powerful finger lets the arrow fly. It sinks into Creepe’s hand, poking out the other side. Creepe curses as he recoils back.

  It hurts. Cookie Monster knows. His own gorgeous mate did the same to him.

  He reaches back in one swift movement, grabbing another arrow out of his quiver, placing it on his bow and pointing it at the vile Creepe.

  “Leave,” Cookie Monster commands. “Before Cookie Monster gives you another.”

  Creepe’s good hand twitches by his side. He wants to take out his ax and split the powerful Cookie Monster in two.

  “The black dot,” Cookie Monster says. “Give it to Cookie Monster.”

  Creepe grimaces. “You want to speak the whore’s foolish words?” he says. “Fine.” He reaches behind his ear and takes the magical dot off.

  He fooled the noble Cookie Monster and made him eat it. Cookie Monster was humiliated in front of his mate.

  “On the rock,” Cookie Monster commands. Creepe listens and places the dot on the rock before backing up to the exit of the cave.

  “You choose this hideous pink whore over your own tribe?” Creepe asks, shaking his head. “Over your own Drandroka?”

  “You are not Drandroka,” the swift Cookie Monster says, pointing the arrow at him. “You are Seeka. You always were. Now go with your vile tribe and never come back.”

  With a sneer, he leaves, disappearing into the dark forest. The powerful and noble Cookie Monster watches him, making sure that he is truly gone. He will stay up through the night to protect his beautiful mate and then in the morning, they will return to the safety of the village.

  And talk in Rolanda’s magical language.

  The swift Cookie Monster kneels in front of the rock and takes the magical black dot in his hand. He places it behind his ear and…Krakalore!

  It is like a hundred grilabites running through Cookie Monster’s head at once. It is over fast and then…nothing.

  The cave is quiet, just the crackling of the fire and the sweet sound of Rolanda’s soft breathing.

  Cookie Monster is excited to see if he will be able to speak in his mate’s melodious language. He will have to wait until she awakens to find out.

  seven

  My eyelids feel like they have weights on them. My head is pounding like a war drum and my mouth is as dry as stale bread.

  This is how I felt when I woke up on the canvas after Michelle White knocked me out cold. That was when I was still a rookie. I could kick her ass now.

  But I’m not in a caged ring and as that realization slowly dawns on me, I jerk up to a seated position, ignoring the incessant throbbing that’s racking my brain right now.

  There’s a blue dude in front of me but it’s not the one that I was expecting. We’re back to Cookie Monster.

  I raise my hands, clenching them into fists as I back away. But my legs and arms are so heavy, the sedative or whatever the hell that was is still working, weighing them down, making me slow. I hate feeling helpless but that’s exactly how I feel right now.

  “It’s okay,” he says with his hands out. “Don’t be scared. Everything is okay.”

  I gasp, too shocked at the moment to remember to be afraid. He’s speaking English. How is he speaking English?

  Am I still hallucinating?

  “Cookie Monster won’t hurt you,” he says, slowly sliding a knife from his boot.

  The fear comes back and I grab the end of a flaming log from the fire and wave it at him. It burns like the end of a flaming log would but I’m sure it feels better than the blade of that knife, so I hold on tight.

  “Take it,” he says, handing the knife over handle first. “Take this if it will make you feel safer.”

  I drop the burning log onto the ground and snatch the knife from his hand and then back away, holding it out in front of me. “Stay back,” I warn, squeezing the smooth handle. The knife is one long piece, which seems to be carved from bone or something. But it looks sharp enough to cut through any Sesame Street character who wants to try anything funny so I hold onto it.

  He shows me his faded blue palms as he slowly takes a step back. “Cookie Monster won’t hurt you,” he repeats.

  “You speak English now?” I ask, glancing around the cave for any other signs of danger. It seems to be just us in the small cave. “How?”

  Cookie Monster kneels in front of the fire and turns the meat that’s cooking on the spit made out of orange branches. The smell of the meat is incredible and for the first time, I realize how ravenously hungry I am.

  “The noble and swift Cookie Monster has this,” he says, pointing to a large mole behind his ear.

  “A freckle?” I ask, scrunching my nose up in confusion.

  “Yes,” he says with a nod. “A freckle.”

  I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the food. “Where is your friend? He tried to hurt me.”

  Wait, how far did he get?

  I quickly check my clothes. My underwear and bra are both still on and intact, including my shorts and t-shirt. I don’t think they did anything inappropriate. They wouldn’t be able to remove the clasp of my bra or unbutton my shorts with those big clunky fingers.

  Plus, I feel relatively normal down there, and I think I would feel a bit sore after taking in his impressive thirteen inches.

  “Creepe is not Cookie Monster’s friend,” he says, his eyes narrowing in anger. It’s then that I remember the arrow sinking into Creepe’s shoulder before I passed out. It must have been Cookie Monster coming to my rescue.

  “Where is he?” I ask, a cold shiver shaking through me as I remember the horrible scene.

  “Gone,” he answers simply as he reaches over and tosses another log in the fire. He saw my shiver and frowned. Is he actually concerned about my comfort?

  No. Can’t be.

  “Did you shoot him with an arrow?” I ask, looking at him sideways.

  His stunning turquoise eyes are focused on the meat roasting over the fire. “Of course,” he answers simply like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “He tried to hurt Cookie Monster’s mate. So the powerful Cookie Monster shot him.”

  It’s only then that I lower the knife. “Who is your mate?” I ask slowly, not really wanting to know the answer that I think is coming.

  He looks up with the light of the fire dancing on the hard lines of his rugged yet smooth face. “You are.”

  “Of course I am,” I say as a laugh bubbles out of me. The laughter stops dead when I see that he’s serious.

  He’s got a smooth, sexy voice and a nice face with a killer body, but he’s a sexual deviant. Even I have my limits of acceptable behavior and Cock Monster over there, has already crossed it. Actually, he ran across it holding his dick in his hand.

  I sit down on a rock when he doesn’t explain further. My head is still pounding like I drank a bottle of Jack and woke up on the sticky ground of a bus station.

  “Are you in pain?” he asks, handing me a hollowed out shell. It looks just like the one that Creepe tried to force on me, although this one is full of little orange berr
ies rather than the toxic sludge that knocked me out.

  My heart pounds as I look at it. I don’t know who to trust anymore.

  “Eat,” he says.

  “I don’t know,” I mutter under my breath. “The last time I took something to eat from one of you blue guys, I ended up all rouffied up.”

  He takes three of the berries and tosses them into his mouth. “It will clear the thunder from your head.”

  “In that case,” I say, grabbing a handful of them. They’re bitter and tangy but I manage to choke them down. My headache is gone in seconds.

  “Wow,” I say, shaking my head, amazed that I feel completely fine. “I could make millions selling that back home as a hangover cure.”

  “A what?” he asks, tilting his head.

  “Nevermind,” I answer.

  “It’s neverminded,” he answers, making me laugh.

  He looks at me with a cute confused face. Maybe I was wrong about him after all.

  His hand darts out towards me and I jump back, swinging the knife in front of him. The hurt on his face is clear.

  “I’m not going to have sex with you,” I say. I just have to throw that out there. I have to let him know that he doesn’t have my consent for whatever he has planned. “So keep your little guy where he belongs or I’ll cut him off.”

  He looks down at his loincloth with raised eyebrows.

  “I don’t want to see it,” I say. “Ever.”

  His dark blue eyebrows squish together. “You don’t want to see Cookie Monster’s towering cock?” he asks, clearly confused. “But how will we mate?”

  “We won’t,” I say, squeezing the handle of the knife a little bit harder. “Got that? We. Won’t.”

  He rubs his chin as he stares at me with a blank look. “But we will be mates.”

  “No. We. Won’t,” I say, careful to spit out every word clearly. “I will be me and you will be you. And if you try anything again, you will be a penis-less you. Got that?”

  “But you are so beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with sadness and loss. His hungry radiant turquoise eyes look me over from head to toe, giving me warm shivers. The desire and want in his gaze is unmistakable. No man has ever looked at me like that before and it melts my insides.

  “Your view makes Cookie Monster’s insides sing a song of love,” he says, leaning forward with flushed skin. “You are as strong as a roquter but more gorgeous than a dasery flower in full bloom.”

  I don’t know what either of those things are but his kind words still make me blush. I’ve barely been called beautiful by anyone in my life but my parents.

  “Your arms and legs are carved like the cliff walls in the valley,” he says, slowly looking over my limbs, taking in every inch with his wide eyes. The hair on my arms raise from his heated gaze.

  His chin drops and he stares down at his empty hands with sadness written all over his face. “How can Cookie Monster dare live without having you in his arms? That is something his soum cannot take.”

  My heart pangs at his words. I’ve been a gym rat since I was a kid and it has effected my looks. My arms, shoulders, and back are bulky with hard muscle. Pounding punching bags, lifting weights, and running marathons has left me with more muscle definition than most guys.

  I’ve been called ugly, masculine, manly, hideous; you name it and I’ve been called it.

  And every time it hurts.

  Yes, I’m tough and yes I like to fight but that doesn’t mean that words don’t hurt. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be a lady. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be beautiful.

  My nerve endings are tingling and my heartbeat starts to pound as I watch him. He really thinks I’m beautiful. He’s not just being nice. He’s not saying it to make me feel better.

  He truly believes it.

  And it almost brings tears to my eyes.

  “What else do you like about me?” I ask sheepishly as my cheeks heat up.

  His rugged smooth face breaks out into a wide smile. His eyes are gentle and warm. How did I not see it before?

  Probably because he was chasing me with his cock sticking out. Yup, that’s why.

  He traces his bottom lip with his finger as he looks at me. I’m so dirty right now. Caked in mud and dirt, my hair is a mess, my breath smells like I just woke up from a coma. God, I miss showers.

  But he doesn’t seem to mind. His lips part as he studies me.

  “Your breasts make the virile Cookie Monster’s cock as hard as the sentra rock,” he says, staring at my chest.

  I shake my head even though I’m secretly flattered. “Not like that. Say more romantic things,” I say, urging him on.

  “Remove your clothes and the powerful Cookie Monster will drink the sweet nectar from your divine culip and tell you how beautiful it is,” he says, staring between my legs.

  I quickly cross my legs and lift up my hand. “Alright,” I say in a stern voice. “That’s enough of that.”

  His shoulders drop and he turns back to the food which is burning over the fire. My pulse is still racing as his words swirl around in my head.

  Nobody has ever complimented my breasts before. My pectoral muscles are big and bulky and have swallowed my small tits. I have been teased and tormented about them, but never complimented.

  I’m almost tempted to show them to him.

  Change topics, Rolanda. You’re not fooling around with an alien. And even if you do, you desperately need a bath first.

  “Can you take me to see Avery?” I ask as he focuses on the meat cooking over the fire.

  He nods, looking up at me with a cute smile. “Cookie Monster can,” he says, looking happy to please me. “That is where Cookie Monster and his Rolanda are going.”

  I sigh in relief. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted to see someone so bad in my entire life.

  “How far is it?”

  “Two sleeps away,” he says. “Three if you can’t keep up with the fast Cookie Monster’s swift strides.”

  I straighten my back, narrowing my eyes at him. “Oh, I can keep up.” I hate being told what I cannot do. Whenever someone tries to put their limitations on me, I become obsessed with trying to prove them wrong.

  “Avery is in the village?” I ask, settling back down.

  “Yes,” he says with a nod, “with Turic.”

  “Who?” I ask, jerking my head back.

  “The mighty Turic is the Saku Avery’s mate.”

  A laugh rips out of me. She has her own blue sex toy. She gave in.

  But as I watch him working over the fire with the orange reflection mixed with the dark shadows playing on his blue skin and muscular shoulders, my laughter fades.

  “Why did you call her a Saku?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. “What does it mean?”

  I hold my breath waiting for his reply, hoping that it doesn’t mean beautiful or sexy. I like him using those words only for me.

  “She is the one,” he explains, his face lighting up as he talks. “The one that the prophecy speaks of. The one to kill all of the many fanged beasts of Zandipor.”

  I can’t help but giggle. “Avery?” I say, staring at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  These blue guys don’t look like geniuses but even they must be smart enough to see that a hundred and fifty-pound earthling girl who has never left the city in her life is no match for a planet full of dinosaurs.

  But he’s not laughing.

  “The brave and divine Avery has already slain two many fanged beasts,” he explains. “Probably more since Cookie Monster left the village.”

  This I have to see. She didn’t seem so brave and divine when she was running away screaming from the T-Rex that we ran into.

  “You’re talking about Avery?” I’m clearly confused. The paste is clearly making me hallucinate all of this. “Brown hair, this tall, sarcastic as they come, never shuts up?”

  “Yes,” he responds with no hint of dishonesty on his face. �
��She is the leader of the village. The mother of the Drandroka tribe.”

  I throw my head back as a booming laugh roars out of my mouth. Avery? Leading a village of powerful blue warriors? I have to see this.

  I guess I didn’t give that chick enough credit. I thought that if you tossed her to the wolves she would be torn apart. Instead, she comes back leading the pack. Still, I won’t believe it until I see it.

  “What about Mandy?” I ask, less hopeful about her. “Is she still alive?”

  He shrugs. “The Drandroka are searching for her. If she is alive, they will find her.”

  I’d love to be hopeful about that girl but I just don’t see it. She would be a champ in a shopping expedition but out here? I don’t even want to think about it.

  It starts raining outside, big fat drops that slap as they hit the leaves and ground. It’s nice to be in the cozy comfort of the cave.

  My blue companion tosses a purple log onto the fire and it roars back to life, warming me up. I scooch a little closer to it.

  It’s as black as deep space outside of the cave and I watch the rain pick up in intensity as my stomach hardens. “Won’t the dinosaurs come when they see the fire?”

  He shakes his head. “They are afraid of it.”

  “That’s good to know,” I answer. “Any Army Surplus store around here where I can buy a flamethrower?”

  “What?” he asks, tilting his head.

  “Nevermind,” I say with a soft laugh.

  “It’s neverminded.”

  I smile as I watch him take our dinner off of the spit. The meat is cooked to perfection and the smell is driving me nuts.

  He unhooks a leather canteen from his belt and hands it to me. “No way,” I gasp as the strong smell hits my nose. Homemade wine.

  I take a sip and cough it back up, my nose and eyes burning like the fire in front of me. It tastes like wine mixed with rubbing alcohol but it’s better than nothing. I take another sip and it goes down better this time.

  “What do the women of your tribe look like?” I ask, studying him as he works.

  “The Sandroka?” he asks, as he reaches for the knife in his boot to cut the meat. But it’s not there. It’s in my hand.