The Alien's Future: An Alien Warrior Romance Read online

  He didn’t speak, and I didn’t interrupt him as he went to work immediately, scanning her vital signs and smearing healing ointment on her cuts. He wasn’t being conservative with his supplies like he usually was for the rest of us.

  Since our uprising against the Uldani, healing supplies had been scarce. While we were able to free ourselves from the Uldani rule, we didn’t defeat them. They still lived and hoarded the medicine and technology. We had free access to the fuel deposits on Planet Torin, but that was about it. Everything else had to be salvaged or stolen. After the Uprising, the remaining Drixonian males—all transported from Corin to Torin—separated into clavases and each elected their own drexel to lead.

  Before, we used to live prosperously on Planet Corin. Shep had told us about our females, how they ran our home planet, organized the farming seasons, birthed our sons and daughters. They were revered, respected. Drixonian males were the warriors. We defended our planet successfully, but sickness couldn’t be cured with our weapons and muscles.

  When our females fell ill and died from an unknown virus, Drixonian civilization fell apart. That was part of the reason we’d been so ripe for the Uldani to exploit. We’d lost all direction, and our once virile libidos fell silent. Some males could coax their cocks to wake with other males, but they were rare.

  Shep’s voice captured my attention. “She is a human,” he said softly, reverently, his hands barely skimming her hair as he placed the scanner back on his instrument table. His watery eyes met mine. “She’s from a planet called Earth, two galaxies away.”

  A human? I’d heard of humans, but I’d never seen one and hadn’t ever expected to. I sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I’ve never seen one, but I have heard of them. My scanner confirmed her species. I don’t know much about them, and without access to the Rinian Galaxy network, I can’t learn more. The last update on my system was before the Uprising.”

  When we’d gone to war with the Uldani fifty sun-cycles ago, they’d destroyed all the towers that connected us with the network but one. And that last one could only be accessed from the Uldani fortress which Drixonians couldn’t get near. They lived on the eastern half of the continent, and the two halves were separated by rugged, mountainous terrain.

  I ran a finger down one of her slender fingers. “We found her on a crashed Raghul ship.”

  Shep sighed. “They are the only ones with the tech and power to travel that far.”

  She looked even tinier in the massive cot fitted for Drixonian males. Her pale skin shone in the bright solar bulbs of Shep’s workroom. Her feet were so small, toes shorter than my littlest claw. “Why would they have a human on their ship?”

  Shep ran his hands through his graying hair and sat down on a stool. He fiddled with the end of his cane. “Before Bult cut off contact with our allies, I heard rumors that the Uldani were collecting females of various species. For what… I don’t know.”

  My hands curled into fists, and I barely suppressed a growl. The Uldani were elitist. They considered themselves the pinnacle species despite their many weaknesses. The only reason they’d want other species was the very reason we rebelled against their rule—they were conducting experiments on living beings. Raghuls… well, they’d do anything for the right price, and the Uldani had enough wealth to get the Raghuls to do their bidding.

  My blood pumped hot, and I felt my lips curl into a snarl as I imagined the Uldani’s hands on my female. Poking her, violating her, cutting into her soft skin, causing her pain.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. I glanced up to see Shep standing above me, his brow furrowed. “Calm yourself, son. She’s safe now.”

  “Is she?” I growled. “Bult already seeks to use her in any way he can to benefit himself.”

  “Did she get these from the crash?” He pointed to the blossoming splotches of blue and purple that had begun to appear on her skin.

  “What are those?” I asked.

  “Injuries. Blood pooling under her skin—”

  “Blood!” I roared, jerking to my feet. “Will she live?”

  He held up a hand and snapped, “Tark!”

  I willed myself not to punch a hole in his wall. “Explain,” I barked. “Will she live?”

  Shep was not amused with my tone. His eyes narrowed. “Sit and calm yourself. Yes, she’ll live.”

  I sat with a thud, dropping my heavy fists onto my thighs with a smack. I bit the inside of my mouth, tongue flicking at my piercings to keep myself from talking.

  “Humans have all their bloodlines right under the skin. They bleed easily, and if they are hit or squeezed, these bloodlines will rupture, spilling blood under their skin before they repair. It is normal, although painful.”

  My gaze drifted down her body, taking in the multiple marks all over her skin. Then I took in the bruising at her throat. Marks in the shape of fingers. And the thin scratch between her breasts which had drawn her blood. I leapt to my feet as my cora slammed against my ribs, and a rushing sound roared through my ears. Bult had done that. He’d marked her, spilled blood from her body. At the time, I’d felt an echo of her pain in my body, like fingers around my throat. The scratch of his claw down my chest.

  “That is from him,” I told Shep, pointing at her neck. My voice was something I didn’t quite recognize. “He held her off the ground by her throat. I will kill him for that.” Shep sucked in a breath, but I kept going. “I will kill anyone who spills her blood. No matter the cost.”

  Three

  Tark

  * * *

  Shep used some of our precious medis to fix the little human’s broken wrist, fade her bruises, and close the scratch on her chest so it was no longer visible. He explained how fragile the bones of her species are, and I wondered what life was like on her home planet that she could live this unprotected with her soft skin and thin bones. Shep said she had reached maturity and was old enough to birth children. But yet she was so small…

  I sat by her bedside, holding her hand. Shep had dimmed the lights, and he now sat across the room, his eyes heavy, sipping some of our spirits.

  “When I said she was safe,” he said into the stillness of the room, “I meant for now. Here, in my hut. But out there…” He gestured with a loose hand as the spirits were beginning to get to him. “Not so much.” He leaned forward. “You know what I’ve always said—”

  “She is all,” I recited back to him. It was the lesson he’d drilled into me since we worked as muscle and law enforcement for the Uldani, and he was my captain. I wished more than once that he’d been the Black Blood drexel, but Shep hadn’t wanted the fight. So Bult had taken over instead, and our clan had steadily been declining in worth and values since. Gupa’s death had been the end of my loyalty to Bult. The younger Drixonian hadn’t been ready for a single mission, but Bult had sent him anyway. He’d been captured and killed by a Rizar clan. I’d been furious at the loss of a promising young warrior. Every life was precious for our dying species.

  Shep smiled and nodded, relaxing. “Correct, Tark. She is all. Females are the priority. As long as she’s alive on this planet, she will be wanted by those who wish to use her. She’s managed to survive this long, which is no easy feat, but this planet is a whole other set of challenges. She needs a protector.”

  “That will be me.” I watched her face and noticed her eyeballs moving beneath her eyelids. Her chest hitched before evening out again into deep breaths.

  “You must stay away,” he said quietly.

  I glanced up at the male I respected the most. Both my parents had died of the sickness early before we knew how devastating it was going to be. Shep had been like a second father to me. I knew what Shep meant, and the sacrifice I’d have to make. I swallowed. “I will miss you.”

  He grinned, big and wide, showing a row of strong, sharp teeth. Despite his age and injury, Shep was still healthy and built, his broad chest swollen with muscle. “I will miss you too, son.”

  “
Will you come with us?”

  He shook his head. “My place is here. I sense a change coming, and I think I’ll need to be here to help clean up the mess. I might not admire Bult, but there are plenty of males here who show promise to be good and productive.” A wistful look passed through his eyes. “Like you.”

  I clenched my jaw as regret soured my stomach. “I should have challenged Bult a long time ago.”

  “No, I think it’s all shaking out as Fatas intended. And if I can play a part in getting this female to safety, then that’s good enough for this old man.”

  “You’re only three hundred cycles old,” I said with a laugh. Drixonians lived about five hundred sun-cycles.

  “Well, I’m twice your age.” He rose to his feet, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual. “I’m going to get some sleep before the sun comes up in a few hours. I suggest you do the same.”

  It would be hard to sleep. My body felt on constant alert around the female. Shep pressed something into my hand. I glanced down at the small disk. It was an old translator implant. I hadn’t seen one for a hundred years, not since we worked as Defens for the Uldani. “This needs a new QR chip, but this is the last implant I have. I’m sure you can replicate it if you find the parts. A good place to start would be the Raghul spaceship.” He squeezed my fingers before stepping away. “Take a day, gain her trust, and make a plan. Then leave here, scavenge the spaceship, and disappear.”

  I closed my hand around the translator, and then slipped it into the secure pouch in my pants. I rose and clasped my hand around the back of his neck. “She is all.”

  Although I pretended not to notice, Shep’s lips quivered slightly when he clasped my neck and touched my forehead to his with a quietly whispered, “She is all.”

  He left the room to retire to his cot, and I leaned on the side of the bed where the female rested. I’d remain here until she woke up, and then I had to find a way to make her understand she was safe. I patted the translator in my pocket. The sooner we could communicate, the better. I crossed my arms on the bed, rested my chin on my hands, and waited.

  Anna

  * * *

  I woke slowly, struggling with consciousness like I was swimming my way to the surface of a deep pool. I blinked, my eyes finding a wooden beam ceiling and light streaking in through a round hole in the far wall.

  The primitive structure stood in direct contrast to the machines in the room around me—monitors and devices. Tablets. Small cylinders that looked like external thermometers from back home. I was laying on a massive bed, the material beneath me soft. How were they powering all these things? I didn’t see wires or electrical outlets. Batteries? Solar power?

  I took stock of my body. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on the bike with… Dimples. My body stiffened. Where was he now? Was I safe?

  I struggled to a reclining position, elbows under me, and turned my head to the left. A massive blue body was hunched on a chair, his head resting on folded arms on my bed, fast asleep. I could tell it was him by the tousled hair and shapely horns. Shapely? Really Anna?

  The beautiful black ridged cork screws emerged from his head above his ears and stuck straight out either side. He’d have a hard time fitting through doorways on Earth. I leaned back to get a look at his face in rest. His full lips looked soft and that furrowed, nubbed brow was now smooth, no evidence of tension. I’d figured all aliens looked like those Blow Hole guys, but this one was…something else. Similar musculature structure as humans—two legs and two arms. Well, and then there was that tail. Even now, in sleep, the end twitched back and forth like a cat’s. Maybe he was dreaming.

  Speaking of dreaming, was I dreaming? How was any of this real? Were humans that backward with technology that we had no idea this kind of space travel was possible, and life forms such as the one slumbering before me existed? I didn’t feel insane, but maybe that crash had made me hallucinate. Needing to prove to myself this was real, I gently touched one tip of his horn. I’d barely brushed it with the pad of my index finger when his head jerked up, dark eyes immediately open and alert. No signs of sleep on his face anywhere. Dang, that was some SEALs-type stuff.

  I gasped and yanked my hand back. “Sorry,” I said, wincing. “Sorry, sorry, to, uh, touch you. Without consent.”

  His eyes softened, and those full lips spread into a smile. His hand lifted, and this time I didn’t flinch away as he cupped my cheek. “Ch-ch-ch,” he said in that weird chant he’d done earlier. I wondered if those were words or some sort of comfort sound. Either way, it worked, because I felt my body relax. He wasn’t ripping off my clothes or hollering for his friends to come ravage me. Or eating me, which could have been a possibility with the size of those fangs in his mouth. But he definitely, most definitely, was real. From his horned head down to his massive booted feet.

  He patted my cheek and then murmured some soft words before retreating to a small table in the corner of the room. He seemed to be preparing something on a slab of wood. He glanced over his shoulder at me continuously and in minutes he was back. On the slab of wood was… Well, I assumed it was food.

  Seeming to remember the drink incident from yesterday, he picked up a hunk of what looked like a pink fruit and opened his mouth to sample it first. I was supposed to be paying attention to him eating, making sure whatever he ate wasn’t poisoned, but I got distracted by his tongue. In my defense, anyone would. His tongue was long, and black, and pierced with three separate little balls right down the middle.

  He placed the fruit there, and I actually found myself thinking lucky fruit like a crazy person. He chewed and swallowed. The tip of his tongue came out to lap up a bit of juice from his chin. From. His. Chin. Heck, I figured his tongue could reach his own throat. Then, as if he hadn’t just blown my mind, he held the plate of food out to me and gestured for me to eat.

  I stared at him. What was going on with me? I’d had one boyfriend in my life. One. We’d had relations one time, and it had hurt and been overall terrible, and then he’d dumped me. Tale as old as time, right? Frankly, I’d wondered if I felt attraction, because most men didn’t do it for me. I’d thought maybe I was attracted to women instead, but that had also been a no-go. I focused on my library and my children’s program curriculum and life had been fine, if not a little boring.

  Now I was on a strange planet, and all I could think about was hiking up my metaphorical skirt for… Dimples. And it wasn’t just that he was hot and ripped with muscles and the owner of a long, agile tongue. He was kind. He’d prevented that Ponytail jerk from ripping my dress off. He’d given me a drink from his own stash, he’d cradled me in his arms on that bike, and now he was feeding me while remembering my distrust from yesterday.

  Looking around the room, I also suspected he’d had a hand in healing me, because my arms and legs were mysteriously absent of bruises. My hurt wrist barely even ached. The scratch on my chest? Gone.

  I had questions, so many questions, but my stomach rumbled, and I decided to take a moment with Dimples. I could pretend we were on a date and the food he’d prepared was surf ’n’ turf. Who knew what the next hour would hold? I’d deal with what to do next after I filled my belly. I sat up, crossing my legs in front of me. Dimples was on the chair, hunched over, so we were mostly eye level with each other.

  I picked up a pink hunk of… whatever it was… and plopped it in my mouth. I chewed, expecting a consistency like watermelon and instead got a feeling more like Jell-O. It had a sweet, pleasant taste, and I went back for more. There was also a purple-ish bread-roll-looking thing that was good, kind of like a yeasty sweet potato.

  After that, he handed me a cup of liquid. “Qua,” he said, with a jerk of his chin.

  It was the same drink he’d offered yesterday. I’d wondered if it was their form of water. Either way, my stomach hadn’t rebelled against it, and most of all, it was cool and refreshing. I finished the cup and continued to pick among the food and munch on what look appetizing.

&
nbsp; Dimples watched me patiently. He didn’t eat anymore, seemingly content to feed me. I tried to hold out food to him, because he must have needed a whole lot of sustenance for that big body, but he would squeeze his lips shut, or lean back with a firm, “nit,” which I took to mean no.

  I wanted to call him something other than Dimples. I’d hoped we’d find a way to communicate soon, but names seemed like a good place to start. I placed my hand over my chest and said, “I’m Anna.”

  For such a rugged-looking male, his face was very expressive. That ridged brow looked like bone but moved like muscles. He cocked his head and reached his hand out, laying it softly over mine. The heat of his skin seared me. “Um anna,” he said.

  Shoot, that didn’t work. I shook my head and tried again. “Anna.”

  He blinked. He mouthed something, like he was trying out the sounds, before he said, “Enna.”

  I smiled and nodded, then gripped his hand in both of mine. The scales on his skin were smooth, like a snake’s, but also a bit soft, like they had a sheen of velvet on top. Weird. I then pressed his hand to his chest. “You?” I asked.

  “Enna,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?” I tapped his chest over I thought his heart would be.

  His nostrils flared, and for a moment, I wondered if he didn’t like that I’d touched him. But then he leaned in and said in a firm tone. “Tark.”

  Holy sugar, did we actually communicate? “Tark,” I repeated. If that was his name, it suited him. Strong.

  His breathing sped up, and he leaned into my touch, his eyes closing briefly before they opened. Heat flared in the swirling purple of his irises. “Tark,” he said again, pointing to himself. Then he pointed to me. “Enna.”

  I nearly burst into tears. Instead, I reached out and ran my fingers over that nubbed brow. His face was so human-like, and that was probably why I felt so safe with him. There weren’t scales there. In fact, his face was rather smooth, the lighter blue skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. He let me touch him, even as I sifted my hands through his soft hair and scratched a fingernail on his ridged horns. He seemed to like that the most, his lips parting and his head turning like a puppy wanting scratches.