Rescued by an Alien Read online

  Still nothing.

  Guess he’s not too talkative at the crack of dawn.

  “Well anyway.” I start to turn away from him. “Goodnigh-”

  A finger appears at my jaw - not touching, but I can see it hovering.

  “Say it again.”

  “What part?”

  “All your words are important to me.”

  He can be so… sweet.

  His eyes right now. Sleepy. Soft. Searching.

  My heart cranks. And my head swims.

  He moves in.

  His face is so close, I can feel his breath slowly puff against me.

  And when my eyes drop from his eyes to look at his lips - instead, right in front of me is his long, so-not-human nose, covered with fine, tightly woven scales.

  “I need to shower,” I declare, scooting sideways off of the bed to escape. My stomach isn’t so bad this morning and I breathe a sigh of relief as I step into the shower and hit the tile that turns on the water.

  I follow the same routine I’ve been locked in since I got here.

  I stare at the far wall, and scrub around the scabs covering my body.

  I don’t look down for a long time, not until my skin burns from a hot, clean scrubbing.

  But I hate every. Damn. One.

  ◆◆◆

  When I come out of the bathroom, Zadeon is too keyed up to sleep. This has been happening more and more; and I know it’s my fault. He isn’t meant to stay in bed this much. To stay this still. Heck - I’m not meant for it either.

  And part of me is sick of this room, I just…

  I hate the way the other women look at me.

  And I really have been exhausted.

  But so far, I’m feeling fine today, and at this hour, at least it should be pretty dead outside our door.

  I glance over. “What's the matter?” For a moment, I’m thrown. At myself. The level of fondness I heard in my own voice just now - it takes me a little by surprise. I’m ruminating over that when he reluctantly answers me.

  “You…” He’s standing in place now, but his body sways like it wants to - like it needs to keep in motion towards me. He fights it, and he grabs his tail. “You did not use your pillow.”

  My eyes find my pillow. The pillow.

  Of course I used a pillow; but the pillow he’s talking about is special.

  It’s just another one of those ‘alien things’.

  “I was too hot. Here,” I say as I cross to the bed and grab the one my head laid on. “Just do it to this one.”

  He accepts it like I’m giving him a sack of gold, not feathers.

  A always, I watch him in fascination - watch him huffing like he’s got an inhalent abuse problem. Then he uses my nice clean pillowcase to basically... wash his face.

  And… he licks it.

  My pillow. He licks my pillow.

  I shake my head.

  But I don’t complain because - and I know this is weird - his spit smells good.

  Like, really good.

  So does whatever he is rubbing off of his face.

  When he’s finished, he is a shade calmer - that’s literal, he darkens literally when he gets agitated, or angry - so by color indicator alone, he’s better now, but still…

  I scramble to think of something to distract him. Something that will help him from being so keyed up. He says he won't part from me even though technically, with the spray he should be able to - so it has to be something we can kind of do together. Or at least in the same space.

  I finally decide to just come out and ask him. “What do you do for entertainment?”

  “I fight.”

  “What if you want to relax?”

  “Then I watch fights.”

  Yay. The ancient Romans would have loved this guy.

  I bring my knuckle under my nose as I consider him. “You’re dreamy.”

  He gives me a nod. I’m sort of taken aback since he’s not been the type to be conceited and I have to ask. “...You know what dreamy means?”

  “No,” he admits. “But Kelly told me I was dreamy also. And hawwwt,” he muses, obviously confused over our strange ‘alien’ words.

  I’m not sure what registers on my face but one look at me though, and he stops pacing. “Does this displease you?”

  I feel like I was just kicked a little, but I shrug. I’m not sure how to categorize this type of gut-kicking, how to classify it in that repertoire I’m gathering. “It shouldn’t.”

  Zadeon looks disappointed.

  Ruffled and still disquieted, he squirts elixir.

  Dohrein’s gonna have to make more. I grimace. The ingredients he needs to make it means he’ll need to get up close and personal and last time was not fun.

  As I watch him coming apart, I don’t think it’s working today (tonight?) to calm his urge to beat walls in.

  I try to ignore it, but the tension from our other issue may as well be a growing tidal wave. It seems to loom bigger and bigger whenever we leave this room.

  The other issue being that everyone around us is settling into happy couples and romantic units and here we are… roomies.

  And he considers us mates. He’s dreamed about the events of my life.

  I’ve loved his special voice, the voice he only uses for me apparently - for forever.

  Somehow, we ‘met’ with an expanse of who-knows-how-many galaxies between us. In our dreams.

  That’s got to be more than coincidence.

  But what it is… I still don’t know.

  Or I’m just afraid to look. To see.

  My eyes well up at that.

  He bends to examine me, worried. “What is so wrong, my Callie?”

  And my eyes spill over at that. “Z,” I croak. “I’m broken.”

  “Where did that come from?” he’s looking at me, very, very worried.

  I choke on a little laugh. “I don’t even know. I’m sorry. I’m being emotional.”

  But he doesn’t let my words go unanswered. “You are NOT,” he is so vehement. “You took some damage - but you are not broken. You are perfect. And part of you recognizes you are perfect for me - just as I am perfect for you. The rest of you will come around with time.”

  “You’re delusional, Z.”

  His brows raise a fraction in challenge. “Z?”

  I feel a blush. “Shortening someone’s name doesn’t mean… you give a person a nickname when you feel…”

  “Affectionate?” he supplies.

  Flustered, I decide to refocus on the fact that he’s back to pacing. “It’s not the same as a fight, but is there a place here where you can work out?”

  He dismisses the idea instantly. “You are awake. I would miss spending time with you while you are lucid. I would never leave you to do it.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He stills long enough to give me a full-on questioning glance.

  “Don't leave me. Take me with you.”

  CHAPTER 17

  ZADEON

  She never leaves our room.

  That’s not true, I correct.

  She never wants to leave of her own volition.

  This is good.

  This is good for her.

  Then why doesn’t she scent of happiness?

  I push myself even harder in my workout. I need to let her do this.

  I’ve been at this for hours. At first it felt like relief. It was relief.

  But I might be in traction tomorrow if I don’t cease this soon. My muscles haven’t had a workout this thorough in what feels like ages.

  But it was with great satisfaction that I discovered my female’s eyes appraising my straining muscles.

  And I endeavor to please her. Even when she doesn’t know she is appreciative.

  If she is watching me like this, then it is worth the pain my muscles will be in tomorrow.

  And it is good for my body. It has been confused with all this inactivity. Feeling the stretch and burn is like coming home. This makes me feel
almost as settled as lying close to my mate at night.

  But even during a workout, I remain vigilant.

  There is always my mate’s safety to monitor when we are out of our den.

  The fitness chamber has become crowded since we got here. We have attracted a crowd. I don’t like it, but I keep moving, and take out my agitation on the equipment.

  Satisfying.

  Perhaps if people carried around punching bags the world would be a happier place.

  If they annoy you? Hit them in the bag.

  Hard.

  Most of the human chatter mutes to a low level drone until I move to the next piece of equipment, the one closest to Callie.

  I have no trouble making out the words of another human as she raises her voice above the din to comment to my mate; “That boy is a motherfucking monster.”

  “Yep, he’s my monster.” Callie agrees, voice tight.

  Monster? Yet from their tones, I am certain it is to be taken as a positive.

  My? ...Did she use the word MY?

  No. I must have misheard. From what I have been able to hear though, she has been a little more responsive to the others in the last few minutes alone. This seems a good sign.

  As I leap upward to grab onto the pullup bar, the buzz of voices increases.

  Yet as I try to focus on her conversations - the ones she takes part in - her manner is growing almost antagonistic. Her mood somewhat standoffish. That isn’t her nature and I’m concerned but I struggle to let her be.

  For just one refrain, I manage to repeat what Dohrein has tried to advise; just because you can intervene doesn’t mean you should. Humans seem to require a certain level of inter-species interaction to remain balanced; although that level differs between individuals…”

  I only care about one individual.

  The others can go pound heads for all I care.

  Except for my brothers’ females, I think to amend.

  Though Tahmoh’s female is not involved in this. He got her off the planet surface in time not to be included in the punishment handed down.

  Which is a blessing. Tahmoh is not like Arokh and I. He is of a gentler nature and if he had fought… it would have harmed him in many ways to be attacked like that and to do any defending.

  Then to be punished like this would have wounded him.

  Captivity for the foreseeable future.

  I don’t know how his female is managing without that ‘certain level of interaction’. Perhaps it isn’t as necessary as the hob thinks. Maybe this ambiguous ‘certain level’ is not that high.

  Regrettably, I don’t know what the level is for my mate.

  If we stayed in bed even half as much as she seems inclined to, she’d never see anyone at all.

  I don’t think that’s the way she wants to be through. She seems… lethargic, listless. So unhappy.

  And she smells unhappy now.

  Can’t interfere…

  No. I could.

  I’m only told I shouldn’t.

  But is that what’s right for my female?

  I drop into a routine of pushups next. A two-part, piercing sound catches my attention, but it isn’t from Callie’s direction so I don’t break from the workout.

  I can smell emotions building. With this many in the room now, it is getting more difficult for me to specifically pick out the scentprint of hers. Regardless, the strongest smells are elation, and aggression. There are subtler ones I can’t define; that I don’t know my mate well enough to decipher.

  However, it isn’t only emotions I’m smelling. Strangely, I am also catching the unmistakable scent of arousal. Nonplussed, I contemplate this as I move to my next workout. Overheated, I tug my upper suit shirt over my head. Each ridge of my muscles causes the fabric to stick for a beat before I’m free of it.

  The two-part, piercing sound happens again - but many times over. I finally spare a look around, unease setting my quills up high. The women are making the noise. It reminds me of some aliens’ version of hooting.

  Odd.

  I didn’t know humans could make that sound.

  Callie has never made that noise.

  The scent of aggression spikes hard - and this time, I am certain it comes from my mate. I grit my teeth and force myself to positively focus my responding feelings of violence on the punching bag. I want to keep Callie from all possible harm, but she knows I am here if she needs me. She knows I am always willing to protect her.

  If she wants me to…

  If she wants me.

  I strike the bag with more force.

  It explodes into a cloud of purple; the sand escaping. I twist and aim my next hit for the neighboring bag. A ripple of sound aggravates me further as more females congregate on the sides of the mat. They’d better be kind to her, or-

  “Hey, HON! You ready for water?”

  My fist plants in the bag, and stalls there.

  What did she just call me?

  Unless… Is someone named Hon here? I glare around at the other males hanging back behind their socializing humans, but no, my female was not addressing them. Nor any of the women. Perhaps I misheard her.

  Panting, I attempt to make sense of the word. Try to make sense of the urgency I heard in her voice. As I do, I note the change that has subtly come over the other humans.

  They’ve gone silent.

  And they are staring at me.

  “Honey?”

  I whirl and narrowly avoid pulling her into me - it is hard not to touch her - almost impossible. Constantly stomping down the urge is murder.

  But I’m elated.

  Her eyes are on me, and her head is high, and her face is both nervous and hopeful.

  Instinctively, I recognize the significance of what she has done.

  In front of everyone.

  My female just claimed me.

  CHAPTER 18

  CALLIE

  It’s all in your head, it’s all in your head. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself.

  But it’s not.

  You want to know something disturbing?

  Almost every woman in this room knows what my vagina looks like.

  I don’t even know all their names.

  They also know what I look like when I’m pathetically begging the alien spreading me open not to ram himself into one of my orifices.

  They also know what I sound like when that alien rams himself into one of my orifices anyway.

  The burn of humiliation could kill me.

  I wish it would.

  And I wish they weren’t remembering the scene that my mind won’t let me forget - that first time, right at the edge of the auction pen, when I was still lucid.

  But they do.

  And I wish they wouldn’t talk about it.

  But they are.

  “That’s her!”

  “-snakes!”

  Just block it out.

  “They kept her as the camp whore, I guess. She was with them for a long time. I heard none of the guys here will even go near her snatch now.”

  “Right? Gross. No wonder she doesn’t have a guy.”

  I do too have a guy!

  ...I have a guy?

  “Honey!” I call out before I can shut down the impulse.

  Honey? What in…

  Zadeon busts another bag like it’s a water balloon and effortlessly swerves his next punch to unerringly land on the next bag. He’s got to be hell in the pit. “Hey, HON! You ready for water?”

  He freezes.

  He looks hot. And finally, a little tired. Not as keyed up.

  Suddenly, you can hear a pin drop.

  My nerves zing to high alert; if he doesn’t acknowledge me, it will make me look even more pitiful in front of the Mean Girls.

  “Honey?” Please, Z-

  And he’s RIGHT in front of me.

  “Hi!” I yelp, and blindly I shove a water canister in his face. He accepts the water with the politesse of a man kneeling for a Knighting ceremony.

/>   He never breaks eye contact as he pulls down every last drop.

  It’s just the two of us in that moment. I barely hear the words flowing in whispers around me now, and thankfully, I can’t make them out anymore.

  I can’t make anything out but the male in front of me. I’m so relieved I- I could kiss him.

  I think about it.

  As I do - without breaking our stare - he leans down and scoops his shirt off the floor and slides it back on.

  Slowly.

  The women around us all groan.

  I inhale deeply for some calm. And whoa his smell!

  He smells good. It’s not sweat, exactly, but it’s whatever his version of sweat is. Looks like he needs my pillow again to clean himself up.

  I’ve never heard any of my pillows complain.

  And no wonder. I never got into watching MMA fighting but if those guys looked and smelled like Zadeon does right now I missed my calling as a groupie in my former life.

  The scales though. He’s still… hot, somehow. But...

  I’ve got to stop thinking about it. My mind is a mess. I’m a mess.

  “Yo! Time for you to shut the fuck up before I fuck you up!”

  Gracie.

  “What’s your problem? Mind your own business.”

  “EXACTLY.”

  “You know what her problem is?” One woman says with a malicious glint in her eye. “My alien told me he’d heard of a Gryfala that was sold to the Underwater Pleasure Dome. You came with that guy with gills. That was you in the Dome, wasn’t it? And now you’re sensitive about it.”

  Gracie stiffens. “Sensitive about it?”

  Before Gracie’s fist actually lands in the woman’s face, they are hauled back from each other and the room is cleared pretty quickly; apparently, Gryfala can do some serious damage to each other with their fangs and claws and venom and though humans don’t have any of these extras, the males still don’t want their humans damaged and scarred.

  Damaged and scarred.

  Like me.

  “Don't let them talk to you like that,” she seethes when she reaches me.

  “They weren’t talking to me.”

  “You know what I mean!” She makes an aggravated sound and kicks a trashcan.