The Alien's Future: An Alien Warrior Romance Page 2

  I began to shake my head because I knew what was next. I just knew, and that was when the door to my hideout ripped open. My eyes landed on a blue, scaled abdomen stacked with muscles, then traveled up a broad chest darkened with scars and patches of darker blue scales. It looked almost like cerulean camouflage. I continued my gaze up, up, up to a slightly humanoid face—mouth, nose, and two eyes. But he had no hair and sticking out from each side of his blue-scaled head were two black horns, cork-screwed into fine points that looked sharp enough to slice me in two. And swishing behind him was a thick, scaled tail tipped with a spiked metal band.

  At his back, at least a dozen more aliens stood, all blue like him, gaping at me. His lips twisted up, mouth opening to reveal two rows of teeth and two long fangs. He spoke a sentence, and while his words were nonsense to me, I got the impression he said something like, Well, what do we have here?

  I opened my mouth, and I screamed bloody murder.

  Two

  Anna

  * * *

  I didn’t wait to see what they planned to do. I turned into a tiny whirlwind, hurling myself from my hiding spot and streaking toward the exit. I must have taken them by surprise, because for a few precious seconds, none of the big Blues moved. Then one of them barked a sharp command, and the Blues closed ranks, blocking my exit with their massive bodies.

  I screeched to a halt and searched desperately for an alternative escape route, but I didn’t get anywhere. Suddenly, I was airborne as a hand around my throat lifted me off my feet and squeezed painfully. I kicked my legs as one of the Blues held me up to his face, narrowed black eyes studying me.

  I gasped for air, but the more I struggled, the tighter he gripped me. Heart pounding in my ears, I went limp because… well, I was tired. I was no Cross-fitter, okay? I took casual walks three times a week so I could indulge in cookies when I felt like it. I hadn’t prepared my body for life on a hostile planet. When I stopped my flailing, his grip loosened a fraction so I could suck in some air.

  As the alien studied me, I studied him back. His black shiny hair was shaved on the sides and the top pulled back into a ponytail at his crown. Rows of gleaming rings pierced the scaled flesh of his prominent brow where a human’s eyebrows would be.

  Other than the top of his head, he was hairless, scales chipped and scarred all over his body which told me he’d seen some things. But what I absolutely did not like, the thing that had me frozen in shock and fear, was the disdainful curl of his lip, and the way he regarded me like I was prey.

  All the Blues wore matching red-colored metal armbands on their biceps with a symbol carved into them, except the one who held me—his metal band was thicker, and rimmed in gold, which made me think he was some sort of leader. They wore dark pants held in place over their tails by a backwards belt-type thing, and large black boots on their feet. No shirts, although a few wore ragged vests in the same material as their pants. What curdled my stomach and had me whimpering in terror was that all of them watched me with same hungry look as their leader.

  All but one. He stood off to the side, one of the largest of the group. His arms were crossed over his chest, fists clenched. His cheeks were pierced so little metal spikes stuck out of his flesh like artificial dimples. His horns, unlike some on the other Blues, were intact and not chipped. And his eyes didn’t peruse my body like I was Sunday brunch. He watched me carefully, his gaze locked on mine, and his muscles tight.

  Instinct kicked in and I began to struggle again as my head swam. “P-please,” I gasped, and I wasn’t sure who I was asking, Ponytail or Dimples, but I could barely breathe with the tightening fingers wrapped around my throat. My lungs burned, and I kicked my legs one more time as I tried to suck in air.

  The hand released, and I fell to the floor, my knees buckling so my butt smacked hard on the metal. I cried out, and a low growl reached my ears just as that damn hand was back, this time gripping the front of my shift and tugging. Undressing me.

  I went back into wildcat mode. No way was I getting naked in front of these very big and very male aliens. The hand succeeded in ripping my dress down to the middle of my breasts. I whimpered as his middle claw scraped my skin like a hot poker. Red blood bloomed in a vertical line. I flinched away, dislodging his hand, and tried to hold the torn scraps of my dress together as I braced for a blow.

  It never happened. A shadow fell over me, and I went still. Standing above me was Dimples, his feet braced on either side of my body. His hands were clenched at his sides, tail flicking behind him so it made angry swishing sounds on the metal panels. I didn’t move. There was nowhere to go, and something told me Dimples was…different.

  He didn’t yell or shout, but he spoke low, terse words to the leader. Eventually his fists unclenched, his palms out in supplication. Ponytail glared at me, black eyes promising some sort of retribution. But then he jerked his chin at Dimples in a sharp nod. He turned on his heel and brushed past the line of Blues to exit the ship. They followed him, a few glancing backward at me and throwing Dimples scowls.

  I stayed huddled at Dimples’s feet. I didn’t know if he could be trusted, but I didn’t have many options here. I could…make friends. Maybe. Slowly, I reached up, and placed a hand on his thigh. His chin dipped, and he pierced me with a fierce, heated look before dropping to a crouch. He still towered over me, even perched on the balls of his feet. I was only a few inches over five feet and this guy must have been close to seven feet tall. His face was well-formed. Deep-set eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones. His hair was a wavy mass of black, curling around his ears and horns. I couldn’t believe I was considering him handsome, but he was… Blue scales, horns, tail, and all. He wore no shirt, and now I could see the symbol on his armband, which matched the rest of his group, was a black teardrop.

  From his belt, he unstrapped a small bottle. He popped the cap and handed it to me. I sniffed it, eyeing him. It had a faint vinegar scent. I frowned at him. Was he drugging me? I shook my head and tried to hand it back to him.

  His brows dipped, and he pushed my hand back toward me. I tried again to hand it to him. Finally, he snatched it from me and tilted his head back to let a few clear drops from the bottle fall on his tongue. Then he held it out to me, one nubbed brow lifted. Like, See? It’s fine.

  I salivated at the idea of a drink. I didn’t know what the liquid was, but I was dying of thirst. Maybe it was their form of water. I didn’t think much else could go wrong, so I took it from him. I inhaled sharply, gathered my courage, and took a gulp of the liquid. The texture was odd—a bit thicker than water with a slight vinegar aftertaste—but it still satisfied me in the way water did. I took another sip, and then another, before handing it back to him.

  His lips turned up into something of a smile—a kind one, not the cruel one like his leader had. God, he was… handsome. Those black eyes turned warm, swirling, and I realized they weren’t actually black. He had a very dark purple iris surrounding his pupil, and around that was only a thin edge of white.

  He lifted his massive five-fingered hand, fingers topped with sharp black nails, and I flinched, remembering the other blue hand that had stolen my breath and tried to take my clothes. He paused, and his jaw clenched. He dropped his hand, anger replacing his concern. Great. Now I’d pissed off the one good thing that had happened to me during this entire mess.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and he cocked his head.

  I didn’t think he could understand me, but maybe my tone would convey what I wanted to say. My voice was low and rough. I didn’t talk much under ordinary circumstances, and now it was scratchy from screaming and near strangulation. “Thank you for, uh, preventing Ponytail from taking my clothes. I mean, maybe you’re not really nice, and you’re just delaying the inevitable, but it was nice all the same.” I bit my lip. “Are you nice, Dimples?”

  My eyes burned, and shoot, I just realized I’d hadn’t cried yet. Not when I woke up on the spaceship, not when the ship crashed, and not when the leader had his finge
rs wrapped around my throat. But now, with Dimples offering me something to drink and protecting me from having my clothes ripped off, a sob left my throat, blubbering and ugly.

  I cradled my head in my hands as arms encircled me. He lifted me, making a small chiding sound with an under-the-breath murmur. “Ch-ch-ch.”

  I glanced up to see he was carrying me out of the spaceship, toward the rest of the Blues waiting on their bikes. For a moment, I thought about fighting and trying to get away, but that seemed fruitless. I only had my two feet to carry me, and these aliens had machines. They would catch me in an instant. No, I decided my best course of action right now—it was subject to change—would be to go quietly, observe, and play nice.

  I didn’t get a good look at the bikes before he straddled a gleaming black seat and settled me in front of him, one strong arm wrapped around my waist. There were no wheels, just three giant circular disks parallel to the ground. He flipped a switch, and the bike roared to life. Those disks pushed out air like uber-powerful leaf blowers, sending the dirt swirling around us, and we rose slowly until we were about ten feet from the ground. Grass blew around us from the force of the air elevating the bikes. The leader at the front lifted a hand, and then we were off, speeding over the landscape.

  Dimples’s arm held me tight, while the rest of the Blues watched us carefully out of the corners of their black eyes. We rode for what felt like hours, until the sun began to dip below the horizon, and the air began to chill. I huddled back into Dimples, needing his warmth because the dress I had—now ripped—didn’t offer much insulation.

  I tried to stay awake, I really did, but the bike’s vibration, coupled with the heat from the big blue body, lulled me into a sense of safety, no matter how false. I closed my eyes and let the rumble of the bikes be my lullaby.

  Tark

  * * *

  The small creature in my arms fell asleep. When she’d first gone limp, I’d worried she’d died, but her chest still rose and fell, and I could feel the steady beat of her cora. She was so fragile, her flesh unprotected. No scales, no nothing.

  I stared at the scratch Bult had made on her skin with his claws. Her red blood had dried now, and the sight of the wound still had me barely suppressing a roar as my machets itched to lift under my skin and hurt the one who’d made her bleed. I’d never felt like that before. I’d seen plenty of blood and death in my lifetime, but nothing had riled me like seeing her in pain. In fact, I’d felt her pain like a burning slice on my chest, so strong I’d had to glance down to make sure a claw hadn’t cut me.

  Flecking Bult. He hadn’t thought of the consequences of gripping her throat like that and slicing her skin. I didn’t even think he noticed she couldn’t breathe. All he’d been interested in was figuring out what species she was and if he could use her for his own advantage. Thank Fatas I’d been able to get Bult to back off.

  I wished I had more than qua to offer her, but I’d already eaten my tein and monstra rations. I was sure she needed sustenance. Who knew how long she’d been on the Raghul ship?

  We’d been out scavenging when we saw the ship plummeting in the distance. I still wanted to return to the wreckage to see if any parts could be salvaged, but the health of the little thing in my arms came first. I focused on riding my bike when all I wanted to do was stop and make sure she was all right.

  She was female; her breasts were visible beneath the thin shift she wore. But she wasn’t Drixonian. Her flesh was pale, nearly without color. She had no tail, or horns, and I doubted she had machets or she would have used them to defend herself. But she was fascinating. Vivid red hair sprouted from her head in an interesting twisty pattern. Her pale face was spotted with tiny brown dots. Something about her tugged at me, pulled at my cora, made it beat faster and harder.

  Fatas gave us what we needed when we needed it. For a long time, I’d thought she was punishing us, but this female made me wonder if Fatas had decided to bless us again. I knew with every fiber of my sola that I had to protect this female. Bult would try to take her, and I didn’t have any hope he’d treat her kindly. He was cruel on a good day to his most trusted warriors, because he thought the only way to lead was to put down those around him. This little fragile female would be just another tool to exert his dominance. I knew one thing for sure. I couldn’t let him use her.

  By the time we arrived back to our home—the permanent camp of the Black Blood clavas—all that was visible from the sun’s rays were a few streaks of orange on the distant horizon. I glanced over at Corin, the twin planet of Torin and our homeland. I dipped my head in reverence as I did every night. One day, I vowed to return there and help rebuild the Drixonian civilization. It seemed an impossible wish since Drixonian females were gone. Extinct. They all died, along with most of our elder males, in the virus that struck our species a hundred and fifty sun-cycles ago. I glanced down at the small female in my arms. There was no way this little thing could be bred, not by a Drixonian cock, not for Drixonian young. The horns alone would rip her apart. Drixonian women had special wombs and birthing canals to protect them during labor.

  On Planet Torin, our home was on the northwestern coast of the continent Jasper. Many other clavases made their home on the western half of the continent, and while we used to be friendly with many, Bult had managed to make enemies. To keep our clavas safe, we’d built up walls with thick lumber, and the only entrance was a large gate which swung outward. Two of our younger warriors heard our bikes and opened the gates. As we passed, they stared at the bundle in my arms, and I glared back.

  We parked our bikes in the garage where more warriors greeted us. Everyone had a job here, and those who showed mechanical skills were in charge of the bikes. They were serviced every rotation, because it was really the only thing of value we had. Well, until we found this female amid the wreckage of a Raghul cargo ship.

  Bult wasted no time. Immediately after dismounting his bike, he strode toward me with fierce determination, his second and third in command in step behind him. I stood my ground, the female in my arms still fast asleep. Or maybe she was only pretending to be. Her breathing had changed slightly, but she hadn’t moved. I adjusted her in my arms and tucked her face into my chest. She fit perfectly, her body warm and the softest thing I’d ever felt, even softer than a welf cub’s fur. And her smell… It heated my blood, made my head spin.

  As Bult approached, I willed myself to keep my machets lowered. I’d almost raised them in the ship, and that would have been the worst thing that could happen. Raising my machets to Bult, our drexel, would be considered a challenge, one he’d relish. He’d been waiting for an excuse to take me out. Ever since Gupa’s death, I hadn’t bothered to hide my distain for Bult, and he’d noticed. Yesterday, I would have welcomed the challenge, but now I had a new mission and that was protecting the female in my arms. I had to be smart.

  “She sleeps?” he asked, eyes hungrily taking her in.

  “If she survived that crash, she’s probably injured,” I said. “Do you think we should have Shep look at her and then let her rest?” I forced out the question with effort when the last thing I wanted to do was ask him permission. But I had to make him think this was his idea. Even now, most of the clavas watched us carefully, waiting for a sign of weakness from Bult. A sign of aggression from me. We weren’t known for civility.

  Bult, to his credit, wasn’t stupid, and he knew what I was doing. But there was no rush. She was ours, and she wasn’t going anywhere. He could wait until she healed some to do whatever it was he wanted with her. He knew the Raghul were most likely working for the Uldani and this human female was for them. I wouldn’t put it past him to sell her to our enemies. Of course, I would never let that happen, but he didn’t know that. Yet.

  He sniffed, puffing out his chest. “Take her to Shep. Let me know when she wakes.”

  I nodded and strode off quickly before Bult changed his mind. The only reason he was letting me do this was because I often helped Shep. Shep was the healer, a
nd I was the one who tinkered with his machines and made sure they worked. He was the oldest of the Black Bloods. He remembered females and even had had a mate before she died in the tide of sickness that took three-quarters of our species and our only way to repopulate. The rest of us in this clavas had been infants or small youth, with no memories of the breasts from which we suckled.

  Shep, as one of the last elder males alive and our healer, was given special privileges. Other than Bult, he was the only one who had a private living space. We’d built him a small hut away from our barracks.

  I called Shep’s name as I entered his front door. He had his back to me and was stirring something on his stove. He also had the privilege of not having to eat the meals provided by our cooks, which had questionable taste on a good day. Shep could make his own and often shared with me.

  “Find anything interesting?” he asked without looking at me.

  “You could say that,” I said.

  He sprinkled in a few spices and tested the broth in his pot. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, see for yourself.”

  He turned around with a grin on his face. When he saw the bundle in my arms, his mouth went slack, his eyes widened, and his face paled. He blinked a few times and then grabbed blindly for his cane. Long ago his left leg had been smashed during a bike crash, and by the time we’d had access to medis, it’d been too late to repair. He shuffled toward me in his uneven gait, his gaze never leaving the female. Finally, his chest heaved, and his voice shook as he pointed a shaky finger to his back room where he kept all his healing supplies. “Take her there.”

  I strode to the private back room of his hut and laid the female on a cot in the corner. Moments later, Shep followed on a quick hobble, his cane thudding on the hard ground.