Chapter Four

*Ragnar*

My mate smells acidic, like fear and blood. It pains me that she is injured, and yet it is an easy path to follow. Only once do I consider deviating, to kill the vermin responsible for injuring her. The need to see her safe wins out.

Her scent is strong in the forest, a scent I do not like, and I fight my inner beast for control once we have found her. She is clever, as I knew she would be. She is the strongest and bravest of the humans she lives with. I am not surprised to find her in the trees. It is what I would have done if I were as small as she.

Her weapons are not drawn as I approach, her fear scent strong, but I know that she would pull them if needed. Not that they would stop me, but I admire her will to survive. Just because they don’t stop me, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t stop another beast. For a moment I wish she had shot the vermin, but the knowledge that I am not the biggest being out here squashes that quickly. If she had discharged her weapon, every large predator in the area would be after her, wanting to taste her human flesh.

My eyes close on a groan as my beast reminds me that we wish to taste her human flesh too, though not as food. A battle wages between us, a battle I’m afraid I won’t win. Only a fresh hint of her acidic scent helps me battle him back, shoving his wants down. Worry is a stronger emotion than lust.

My beast wants to bound forward, snatch her from the branch and rut her into the dirt until she has no doubt who she belongs to. My rational side recognizes that she wouldn’t survive her fear or the rutting. Our size difference is startling in this form and not for the first time, I am cognizant of how I must appear to one as small as she. As it is, I just barely manage to keep my cock from slipping out of my pouch. I may fight my beast, but I want a mate as desperately as him.

She sits back against the tree as if afraid I might jump forward and eat her in one bite. Like she will scream just from the sight of me. We will eat her, and she will scream but from pleasure not pain. My beast growls into my mind, asserting his wants. Ever used to the mental battle to fight his influence, I push him back, assessing our little mate.

She is injured, her blood calls to me. It is normally a sweet smell, the calling of prey. When it belongs to my mate? It makes me want to whimper in pain along with her. My eyes track her through the trees as I approach, not wanting to spook her any further. Her pale flesh is almost white over her hands, the tight grip she has on the bark leaving wounds in their place. I want to growl at her for hurting herself, but I don’t, instead I release a calming vibration, one meant only for her.

When the white of her eyes recedes a little, when I can see her relax marginally, I hum deeply, letting it flow from me to her before I back off a few yards. Long agonizing moments span between us, but I can see my vibrations begin to work. I do it again, at a much lower octave this time. I’m not sure if she hears me or not but she visibly relaxes. I bite back an amused chuff when she places her human weapon between us, despite her posture. Brave little human.

Pride for my mate makes the spikes on my back and legs preen, standing straight up. To my amusement I can feel their filaments begin to crackle with energy, no doubt ready to glow a bright hue, the color will remain unknown until I claim her, but one can hope.

I’ve waited a long time for the scent of my mate to reach my snout, so much so that I haven’t truly stopped to think how I feel being mated to a human. Reaching deep into my hearts, I find nothing but joy. All I’ve ever wanted was a mate. Someone to help quiet my riotous inner beast, or rather to help us become harmonious. Someone to love, to cherish. Someone to bring meaning to my life.

Back in my home world I thought that living a simple life with my mate, maybe joining a pack after I’m mated, would be fulfilling. Instead, I’ve been given an alien mate in an alien world and I have no regrets. Even my odd little pack brings me joy. Maybe it is an effect of having everything I’ve ever known ripped away from me, but I can’t find it in me to care. I will grasp my good fortune with my claws and never let her go.

Even with my beast lying dormant in my mind, biding his time, my baser instincts rush to overwhelm me. They demand that I provide her with anything she might need, and the scent of her blood has my saliva glands near to bursting. My healing salve rushes forward until a little dribbles from the corner of my mouth.

My little mate is unlikely to let me lick her, even as she tries to heal herself, she never takes her eyes from me for long, as if afraid I might attack. Frustration fills me as I consider my options. The translator in my mind doesn’t work two ways. I can understand her, but she can’t understand me. I can’t tell her that my saliva will heal her wounds, that I mean her no harm. To her I am a monster, a beast straight from her nightmares.

Never known to be a patient one, my eyes flick to her, waiting for a moment of distraction. If I can’t convey my intentions, then I will simply have to show her. Easier said than done. My confidence wanes as she begins to dig things out of her backpack, healing supplies mostly, yet keeping her eyes upon me the whole time.

My moment comes when she is struck with a pain. My hearts clenched at the emotion that twists her face, the organs firmly in her tiny little hands. The mate bond allows for nothing less than my utter devotion and I embrace it fully. Using her distraction, I eat up the distance between us. She gives a little cry in pain, and I can’t stop myself from coming in close, sniffing her leg to assess how badly she is injured.

Even moving quickly, I can tell the moment she notices me, multiple emotions crossing her face. Her scent is flooded with fear until my snout burns with it. A scream startles me as she scoots as far from me as she can. Her back is pressed tightly into the bark, as if those few inches would save her. Her whole-body freezes with her fear and I am hit with her fragility and the task ahead of me as her mate.

This is a first for us both. I’ve never been so close to a human and she obviously has never seen someone like me. She lacks many natural defenses…she lacks all natural defenses if I’m honest. Her skin is almost translucent, no doubt from a lack of sun. Her nails and teeth are blunt and small. Fear for her lights up my chest and I can’t help the vibration that escapes, soothing me more than her.

Regardless of her lack of defenses, I still find her captivating. Her dark mane and enchanting green eyes ensnare me like nothing else can. Her differences are stark, but she is easily the most enchanting creature I have ever seen with her small nose and plump lips, her face angular and alien. Shaking myself of the effect she has, I remember my purpose for being this close.

Using her fear to my advantage, my tongue snakes out to lap at her leg. Her reaction is immediate, and her sound of disgust would be comical in any other situation. She tries to yank her leg back, but my saliva gets to her first. Her shriek turns into a low moan of relief, her eyes bulging in her small face as she realizes what is happening.

“Your nasty spit is helping. What the actual fuck is happening?” She questions me and once again I curse my inability to respond, a low vibration my only answer. It rumbles from my chest to hers and I watch as she rubs her chest in small circles, as if rubbing away the sensation. I cannot grin in this form but if I could, it would be triumphant.

She may not feel the bond as I do, a thought that brings me much sadness and that has just occurred to me. Sure, she is fearful, but I had hoped she felt the bond a little. My vibrations can only be felt by her, my mate. The fact that she feels them alleviates some of my worry, but I must move more cautiously than I had previously assumed.

My poor mate is confused, I can see it on her foreign features. Though, I could be mistaken. My hearts clench again. Poor little mate. To be so brave in a world set out to kill you. Whimpering, I scoot closer, using my sounds to convey what I want, my eyes focused on her leg. I can’t solve many of her problems, but I can solve this one. My nature urges me to act, to heal.

“You want to lick me?” She asks, her voice rising with her panic. Stepping back, I consult what I know of her people, of all the mannerisms I’ve witnessed since I came to rest above her home.

Often the humans will nod their head up and down to the one waiting to shut the lower door. It is a motion that conveys the word ‘yes’. Hoping I’m right, I look her straight in the eyes and nod, the motion feeling foreign and silly. I am wholly unprepared when she screams, and I whirl around to face whatever threat has crept upon us.

Confusion fills me when I see nothing amiss. Raising my snout to be sure, I scent the wind. No new scents are detectable. Whirling, my eyes rove over her small body to search for an unseen injury. When I find nothing, I tilt my head at her, trying to convey my confusion. She hasn’t moved, staring at me in horror. Her silent horror quickly shifts to loud indignation.

“You mother fucking answered me. YOU UNDERSTOOD ME?!” She shrieks, but halfway through shifts to a whisper shout, looking around us in fear, as if she might draw predators to us. A valid fear in these woods. but I will protect her. Tilting my head again I consider my options on how to respond and whether I truly should. Her reaction to my last response was not what I expected. In the end I am limited and simply nod again.

This time she doesn’t scream. She shoves her fist into her mouth and lets out a startled whimper. This almost concerns me more than the scream and I push my snout forward, sniffing to ensure she truly wasn’t injured somewhere else. I need to know that this isn’t a fevered response. Still, I find only injuries on her hands and legs. Nothing new to elicit this kind of horror.

“What the fuck is this? The Twilight Zone? You are a monster, a beast. You aren’t supposed to nod your head! I’m dying of a fever. That is the only answer. I never escaped the barbed wire and am laying in the field dying.” Her breathing picks up pace and my concern for her grows with every word. Is my mate’s mind compromised? She is not in a field dying. She is here with me. Though I wish to lick her leg a few more times to be sure, my saliva is already at work. She will not have a fever from it.

As her panic grows, I do the only thing I can. I send out a rumbling vibration meant to calm her. It has the opposite effect. She gives a quiet shriek again, muffling it against her palm before speaking once more.

“What even is that? Are you growling at me? It makes my chest rattle and my heartbeat weird. Are you pre-tenderizing your meal?” Her questions make little sense, the translator having a hard time finding similar words in my own language to supplement meaning, but I get the gist of it. She thinks my vibrations will harm her. This time I shake my head for a no.

Thankfully this time she doesn’t shriek, but her eyes grow impossibly larger in her pale face, and she simply stares dumbly at me. At first, I fear she will pass out but I should have known better. My mate may be riddled with fear, but she is brave. She volunteered to traverse this forest when others would have balked at certain death.

Stepping forward to comfort her once more, I freeze when a new scent reaches me on the slight breeze. Though she is still terrified, she mirrors my actions, freezing as well. Something is approaching us, fast. The scent started lightly and is now burning my nostrils. A scent I recognize well.

An angry snarl rips from my throat, startling my mate. Guilt eats at me, but I push it to the side, letting my beast rise to the surface. He rises to meet the challenge to my mate’s safety. A Gersil approaches, making a beeline straight for us. No doubt drawn by mate’s scent and sounds.

Whirling towards the sounds of approach, I rise to my full height. My sails along my back raise from forehead to tail tip and the spikes along my legs flare out, ready for the fight. Gersils are nasty beings, little more than the instinct that drives them. They were some of the most vicious to the humans when we were first released, causing quite a massacre.

Their forms are monstrous to even my kind. They are massive, tentacled and vicious. Their taste for violence is disgusting and he will not get his hooked tentacles into her soft, sweet-smelling skin. A roar echoes far too close for comfort and I meet it with one of my own, my beast taking fully over in the face of a fight.