Page 44 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
Ariana elegantly unpacks her new belongings, humming to herself as she examines each item. “You have an entire storeroom! Oh my gosh, look at all this food,” she says, her voice filled with delight. I respond with a grin—the human-style smile she has taught me. It had taken her some time to realize that the wooden panel with a hide stretched over it was not just a decoration, but a door separating the living area from the storage area.
“Taccit!” her voice echoes through the cave. “You have rooms back here! Why are we sleeping out there when we have entire rooms?” I wince. Even though she doesn’t sound accusatory, I can’t help but feel like I have let her down. It is my duty to provide her with a suitable home. And mine is far from finished.
Sighing, I rise and follow her as she pokes her head into every nook and cranny, eager to uncover all the hidden gems our cave has to offer. "I'll complete carving the sleeping room from the rock during this bitter season. It will make a suitable room for us to sleep in. But for now, I need to make sure we'll have enough food in case we get snowed in," I say.
“Speaking of food, can we go and check on the garden tomorrow? I want to see if the sprouts have started growing yet,” Ariana requests. Her happiness is evident in her excited movements and eyes sparkling with joy. “If we have time, I want to plant some more things. I have seeds that we can plant now, and they’ll grow when the snow melts.” I nod in agreement. I’m not an expert in this farming that my mate specializes in, but I am more than willing to indulge in any request Ariana has.
“Come,” I say, taking her slender arm in my hand. I marvel at how easily my fingers wrap around her small frame. She is delicate and cold. Her skin feels chilly to the touch. Disregarding her protests, I lead her to the living area to prepare and eat our meal.
Rather than curling up on the furs near the fire, as I had suggested, Ariana darts to the table and climbs onto a stool that is too high for her. She studies the wood grain on the table, avoiding eye contact. I notice her rubbing her wrists, a subtle reminder of when I had tied her up. She hasn’t entirely forgiven me for that, and despite her growing confidence, she still hesitates to express her grievances.
I can’t let her feel timid in any part of her home. “Ariana.” I say.
“So, what’s for dinner?” she asks, her voice light and hopeful, attempting to distract me. “You should lie on the furs,” I instruct, lowering my voice by several octaves. I know I am becoming bossy, as she likes to call me, but my mate is cold and needs warmth and reassurance.
The thought of my mate, Ariana, nestled in the furs waiting for me sends my blood racing with anticipation. For the first time, I find myself looking forward to the harsh winter months. In previous cycles, being snowed in with nothing to do was pure agony. But now, I will spend endless hours entertaining Ariana. I will hold her close, exchanging stories and learning about her childhood. And from beneath those very soft and warm furs, I will delight in her mind and body.
Ariana fidgets in her seat, raising her chin and narrowing her eyes in what seems to be an attempt at a menacing stance.
“I’m perfectly fine right here,” she says defiantly.
My little mate is simply perfect for me.
When I was a youngling, I had been told repeatedly by the tribe’s elders that I was too headstrong and domineering. Even as a youngster, my height and size intimidated our tribe’s women, who were typically submissive, timid, and rule-abiding. My forceful nature and towering appearance would terrify them, making them cower even in passing. I had been constantly reminded that mates needed encouragement, adoration, and gentle treatment.
I’d heard this so often that I began to fear the day I would find and take my mate, if at all. I worried she would shrink from my imposing figure and my nature.
However, my little Nika, Ariana, is the perfect match for me. With her fiery spirit, much like her radiant red hair, she is admittedly smaller than the females of my species, yet she never lets that hold her back.
A mischievous thought flits through my mind, accompanied by a slow smirk. My Nika is not afraid to break the rules, and all rule-breaking mates deserve to face the consequences.
Observing my expression, Ariana’s glare subsides, replaced by a look of caution.
“Taccit?” she says hesitantly.
The sound of my name on her lips is intoxicating, sending my heart pounding and my entire being swirling with passion.
An involuntary growl resonates in my chest, my body priming for action. I don’t like running, but I would do it to catch a naughty mate.
Ariana cautiously slides off the stool, watching me warily. Her gaze scans my body with such intensity that it makes my skin tingle and my muscles tense. Her eyes linger on my groin, intensifying my arousal. As she licks her lips and her lower tongue caresses her own plump flesh, I almost unravel.
“You know, we never discussed the consequences of disobeying me,” I say.
Meeting my gaze, Ariana’s eyes mirror the tension I feel. “I didn’t do anything.”
My excitement heightens, and my smirk grows even wider, as she doesn’t reject the idea of facing punishment. “You leave the cave without me, little Nika. Any predator could swoop in, take you while you’re vulnerable. Do anything to you,” I point out as I take a step closer to her.
This is the little push she needs. With wide eyes and an audible gasp, Ariana turns and dashes past the stool and table, heading straight for the front door. The sweet scent of her arousal follows her. Cheeky girl.
I allow her a brief head start, just enough to let her believe she might have a chance to escape me. Then I pounce.
Swiftly, I capture her and drag my squealing mate deeper into the cave.
I inhale deeply, savoring her intoxicating scent. It isn’t tainted by fear or terror; instead, her sweet aroma seems to have intensified. My mouth waters, aching for more, longing to discover if her taste matches her enticing fragrance.
Carefully, I drop my mate onto the soft bed of furs. Her breath wheezes as she lands on the plush surface, quickly scrambling to her knees. But before she can even contemplate escaping, I catch her wrists between my hands. Skillfully, I wrap soft leather around them, tight enough to restrain her thoroughly, but not too much to cause injury.
“Taccit?” she says with a whimper. Now her scent is turning slightly more acrid as her fear grows, likely recalling the time I called her my prisoner. She had no reason to be afraid then, and she has none now. I am determined to prove this to her.
