Later, when she collected her clothes off the mess floor, she was too floaty to worry about Krul. Mason’s warm cum trickled down her inner thighs and she tasted it on her lips, too. He led her by the hand to his quarters. He promised more over the coming days, plenty more. Distracting her with sex was his aim and it was working.
Chapter Eleven
Mason swatted another fly off his nose. He hated the sweltering heat and the swarms of insects bombarding his head. According to his scans, humidity was up to about ninety percent and the temperature was ridiculously high for a man acclimatized to an ice planet.
Jade had warned him sticky heat was horrible—he was drenched in sweat and all he could think about was snow falling. She’d never seen snow. He would like to rectify that situation one day.
“Drink plenty,” she’d advised. Fortunately for her, Malimor was different to Kathamu—mostly dry heat and no rainforests—so she’d little further advice to give him other than watch his back.
He followed the track, which was only just visible, and used a stick to beat aside any vegetation. It had been a few hours since he landed the Steadfast in an area of cleared jungle, probably once a village, but the occupants had moved on.
He scanned the route ahead with a motion tracker, watching and listening for anything resembling a lizard man. However, everything moved in the jungle and it was so damn noisy, too. Birds, monkeys, and chirping insects blended into a continuous cacophony.
In the distance, the undergrowth cleared and the path grew wider. He encountered a network of paths and fresh footprints—barefoot humanoids. He examined the dirt for claw marks or boots—nothing so obvious.
The jungle thinned out and he squinted in the bright sunlight—another village and this one were occupied. The huts were on stilts to keep out vermin and the field plowed, ready for a crop. A few screaming women scooped up the infants and hurtled indoors as Mason approached.
“Hello,” he called out. “I mean you no harm.”
The women and children had vanished, but the bare-chested men, whose stature was considerably shorter than Mason’s, stood armed with bows and spears, forming a line. The nearest man, who wore a ring of vines around his head, stepped forward.
Unfortunately, Mason didn’t understand a word of their language. He tried to impersonate what Krul might look like, but his mimicry proved disastrous. The men snarled at him, raising their weapons. Mason could easily pick them off with his gun, but for what purpose? He needed friends, not more enemies.
Backing away, he disappeared into the undergrowth and continued his trek toward the river. It had to be close by because the villagers would need a source of water.
Annoyed with his inability to communicate, Mason marched along the path and took another swig out of his water bottle. He’d drunk more than he anticipated and had little left. The river was becoming essential.
Jade would have coped better with the heat and the humidity. Before he’d left Titan, he asked her to coat his pale skin in sun protection cream and she’d obliged him, humming to herself with a smile as she massaged it into his skin. Unwilling to deny her, his cock had hardened. She’d gone on to perform another duty, kneeling at his feet, milking his cum and offering him a brief respite.
Leaving her on the interceptor was tough. Both of the options open to him—leaving her up there or bringing her down—weren’t appealing and he’d chosen the one least likely to put her in danger. He’d expected her initial disapproval and also her acquiescence, which she’d duly given and he welcomed it. So much about her pleased him beyond his wildest expectations. It was hard to believe that a girl from Malimor could bring him such happiness. The Stratum had failed him, but not Jade.
She didn’t cry when he kissed her goodbye. He remained positive about the outcome of his mission. Since he’d landed on Kathamu, on the hour, every hour, he’d sent her a brief message. Text only, since the atmospheric conditions weren’t helping the transmission of images. She’d responded with an obedient, ‘yes, sir.’
A new sound was discernible. Something different in the mix—flowing water. The river couldn’t be far and he quickened his pace, paying little attention to where he walked.
The ground opened up and swallowed him. He fell in a black hole and landed with cracking thump on his backpack. Leaves and thin branches tumbled on top of him, covering his face.
Mason spluttered, fighting off the foliage. Lying on his back, he stared up, blinking away the dirt in his eyes. He was in a pit, a dugout twice his height and not much wider than the span of his outstretched arms. The opening had been covered and he’d fallen straight through the branches.
“Fuck,” he groaned, annoyed at his stupid mistake.
Gingerly, he eased himself into a sitting position and checked for injuries. There would be bruises and scratches, especially along his bare arms, but otherwise, he’d not broken any bones.
Standing up, he reached up and felt along the damp walls for anything to grip—a root, a rock. The dirt broke away, crumbling between his fingers and he realized if he tried to climb out, he risked having a landslide and burying himself in it.
He had plenty of food, but water was an issue. He’d have to ration himself.
Crouching down, he rummaged around for the communicator. He needed to explain to Jade what had happened so she wouldn’t worry or attempt a rescue. He suspected the trap was a device for capturing animals and used by the villagers. Somebody would come eventually to check it.
It wasn’t there. He dug deeper into the corners of the bag and concluded the device had probably fallen out when he triggered the trap.
He sat on the debris and cursed. Now he had to wait. Of course, his assumption about the villagers being the perpetrators could be wrong. There were other possibilities—the trap could have been set not by them but by the bounty hunters or worse, Krul himself.
So who would get to him first?
* * *
Hours had passed since his last message. Jade’s levels of anxiety had gone from mild concern to outright panic. She paced the flight deck, checking every few seconds for a message, but the screens remained blank.