This is the next title I’d dearly love to produce as an audio book. The cost will be roughly $2000.00. You can help me achieve this goal by contributing here: PATREON or here: PATRONAGE
Chapter THIRTY SEVEN
It’s around dawn the next morning, and we are pretzeled together. During the night, I woke a few times and made sure some part of me was touching him, and I felt him do the same. It was as if we had to make sure the other was still there, and this whole freakish joining wasn’t just a dream.
I kissed his shoulder and he picked up my hand and kissed the inside of my palm. It was a tender kiss and his warm lips sent goose bumps up my arm. “You are a sensitive thing,” he says.
“Only to some, to others I seem as dull as a rock. It takes a certain vibration from another, and then I am so alive I can hardly stand it.”
“Ahhh, a catalyst?” He questions.
I think about it and slowly nod, “Yeah, I guess that’s as good of an explanation as any. I’ve had about twenty different mates, many more lovers. I can fuck just fine even if I’m not in love, although it leaves me feeling really cold and hollow. You know the worst of it? I often feel so dead I go out and find sex. It’s meaningless sex of course, and I do it in hopes of feeling something…”
“Feeling anything,” he interrupts as he finishes my thought, agreeing with me, “And what started out as a need to feel, ends up in making you feel more alone and empty than when you started.”
“Exactly! You’d think I’d learn by now, but no…”
“It’s how you’re made Ellie –created to please. You feel alive when you’re found satisfying to another –of course that’s your – go to,” he again interrupted, then added, “I’ve done it many times –many – many – many times –life is just too hard when you go it alone for too long. For me its connection to something else living –which you know the horses really do help satisfy because they are so sentient –but for you it’s an innate need you have no control over –Elysian females are supposedly created for a specific man –you might be the only woman of your kind to be a free agent.”
I wrinkle my nose and wiggle it, “What are the odds?”
He taps my chin lightly and grins, “I can tell you a few things I know –I actually used to kind of be a fan of your people.”
“A fan? What does that mean?” I question.
“Well, ever since good ole dad told me about the single minded devotion of an Elysian female, I wanted one, so I kinda turned it into a bit of a hobby. Mind you, I was just a fledgling –youngster –hadn’t even learned how to fly yet –but I learned a lot about your kind.”
My expression was more than amused and I turned on my side with my head on my hand and winked at him, “Do tell.”
He flopped onto his back and spoke to the ceiling, “Let’s see what I can recall. Pointed ears –in your natural state you have small ears with pointy tips.”
He nods, “Yup, like elves. You’re a tall species, leggy,” He dashed a look at me and chomped his teeth, “Love those long legs, and that perfect ass of yours!” I giggled and he reached over and touched my hand, still talking to the ceiling, “Feathers. I knew for sure when I saw that artwork,” He motioned toward the living room and then rested his hand back on mine. “Your world is devoid of birds. Not one on the whole planet. Your people are fascinated with feathers. Consider them as rare and collectable as earthlings feel about gemstones.” His eyes took on a faraway expression and I eagerly listened.
Most of my memories were surrounding the mission and the experiment and very little had filtered through of my first life and the customs and rituals of my people. “Your people like a lot of pomp and circumstance, like to show off their wealth. Whenever they have banquets or parties, they decorate themselves with feathers. The women will pale out most of their faces, even pale lipstick, so all you can see are the masks they wear. Usually half face, but always made from feathers of different colors, or if they are high born they wear Hogedon feathers –that’s my race –always black or the same dark navy as my hair. Only our wing feathers, and only from a full grown adult, are tipped in that same silver as you saw on my wings.” He nodded as he recalled, “We must have limited the supply, wish I could remember –but yeah, incredibly rare indeed.”
I make a sound of amazement and grin, “That explains a lot. I’ve always been fascinated with birds of all kinds. Is that ironic or what?”
“You mean because I am one?” He asked.
“Yeah, exactly!” I confirmed.
“My people often traded with yours –we would offer feathers and quills from our adults and down and fluff from the fledglings. You’d be surprised what kind of commodity they can be when your planet has not one avian species.” He turned his head and caught my eye, “A feather from my adult plumage would be considered one of the greatest gifts offered. Just so you know.” He winked and resumed talking to the ceiling. I was thinking about my fascination with feathers and birds, as more puzzle pieces slid into place. “So darlin, if I ever give you one of my plumes, it means you are very special to me. Not only would I have to manifest my wings, which I don’t do very often, but I’d have to inflict a wound that would take months to regenerate.”
“I have it in storage, but you’d be shocked to see my mask collection.” I say victoriously. Then add, “If you ever gave me one of your feathers I would cherish it beyond any other –I’d consider it one of my greatest possessions.” I declare. Then I ask, “Do your people mate outside of your race?”
He grinned and asked, “The masks—all feathers?”
I nod and lift one eyebrow, “What are the odds? Right?”
He answers my question, “Rarely, but yeah, it happens. We’re a passionate species. Much more so than your people.”
“What do you mean?”
He chuckled, “When I first saw Star Trek, I thought they modeled Spock after Elysians’ and Kirk after Taninians’. Polar opposites –one is intellectual and all mind, the other is all heart and emotions.”
I nibbled my lower lip in thought before answering, “I’ve changed though –I’ve grown feelings –emotions –I feel everything deeper than I remember feeling before.”
Iain turned again to face me and he cupped my jaw, “You darlin are the most unique entity in all the galaxies –I can’t believe we found each other.” He kisses each of my fingertips, “I could devour all of you. I haven’t felt this way about a woman ever. You and me baby, damn we’re good together.”
“We are each other’s catalyst maybe?” I say in a tiny voice, thinking about how odd it is to be with another stranded alien.
He reads my thoughts and asks, “I been meaning to ask you, are you stranded or are they extracting you at some point?”
I grimace, “I think I’m supposed to be here for two thousand years, so that gives me a handful over seven hundred more to go.”
He is silent for so long I think he has nothing more to say on the matter. When he does speak I momentarily jump at his voice. He hugs me in tighter, “Sorry darlin, I was thinking about leaving with you –I was so resigned to my fate –so certain there was no escape for me, I refused to let myself consider it.”
“And now?” I ask
He bends his head down and grins at me, “Well my sweet little sex toy, seven hundred years is a long time. If you’ve not grown bored with me and we’re still together, I’ll consider it.”
“You know I’m not sure the mission is even on track anymore. I think both Gabriel and Doyle are either locked up in a Fae sithen or they don’t know they are, and time is speeding by out here –whatever it is, I think Doyle lost control –so I really have no clue. I’m trying to live as if this is my existence and there is no extraction –ever.”
He nods and hugs me tighter, dragging most of my body up onto his chest. My breasts push against his hard pecks and he palms my ass, jiggling me and rubbing himself against my belly, “You know what sweet cheeks?”
“What? My holy hardness.”
“Who really cares if we get to leave or not? Right now, in this moment, with you, I would trade an eternity of adventure to stay here – so fuck em all!” He announces.
I bite my lip and nod in thought, “You know what bird boy? I would agree one hundred percent –fuck em all!”
We laugh and roll around in the bed, and play seduction and tease as he grows rigid and I grow wet and slick. I groan and roll away, “I can’t right now, even if my body is telling you, yes, –it’s a fucking liar! I don’t want too –not yet –you’re so big and I’m really sore. Can we just lay together? Can you be hard and me wet and nothing happen?”
His hand reaches between my legs and he grumbles out his need, “Ahhh babe –maybe it’s your brain that’s the liar? Your sweet little cunt seems more than eager.”
I hear him lick his fingers after his quick, internal delve, and his sounds of pure delight momentarily give me pause. He is entirely correct, I would suffer if it meant pleasing my partner. That old familiar question rises up inside, is it good or bad that I would suffer to please him?
“It’s neither lover, it’s you.” He says in response to my unspoken thoughts. I sigh, but say nothing. I am also completely okay with his intrusion into my private mind, that too is part of his penetration into my being, and I like it. My thoughts prompted a question from him, “You’re empathic then? No telepathy?”
“I can feel your emotional grid, but only if you let me. You are the most powerful person I’ve been around since, Doyle, in Iceland. But yeah, I feel you baby! But no, it’s rare for me to hear words –again though, I did with Doyle. And a few times I think I’ve heard your thoughts.” I honestly reply.
I feel him nod as he rubs my back. My hair has lifted and twined itself entirely around any part of him it can reach, which he told me he loves. He offers, “I’m both –empathic and telepathic –and! If I really work at it I can implant thoughts at a subconscious level –I’m out of practice though, I don’t work that psychic muscle too much, unless I’m with the horses, but they are so receptive it really takes nothing.”
I offer a sound of agreement. “I went so long I thought I’d lost even the empathic ability. I swear I’ve gone through phases where I wondered if I was entirely human –nothing special here people, move it along.”
“It’s a fetal race babe, and I hate how the lowest common denominator always wins. Don’t let the turkeys tell you, you are anything but an eagle –I know though –its very tuff here to feel anything but average.”
I giggle at the irony of his words and mumble, “And you are an eagle. A silver, raven haired, glowing alien raptor.”
Excerpt from THE ELYSIAN
The adventures and loves of Faith Elysian. An immortal alien trapped on Earth for twelve hundred years.
This is the next title I'm hoping to make into an Audio book. Please see my PATREON and PATRONAGE pages for info on helping me achieve this goal.