Taken By The Alien Next Door

by Tiffany Roberts

She dropped her phone into her purse and darted to the sink fast enough to have put the Flash to shame.

  Tabitha stared down at two blue lines.

  Two lines. Pregnant.

  “I’m pregnant,” she breathed.

  Her lips stretched into a wide smile, and she placed her hand on her belly. “I’m pregnant! Oh my God, we’re compatible!”

  Tabitha snatched the test stick off the sink and moved to her purse. She stuffed the stick into her purse, pulled it down over her shoulder, and made her way outside.

  Once she was in her car, she took out her phone, opened up the messages, and was about to text Zevris before she stopped herself. She wouldn’t tell him over the phone. This was something she had to tell him in person, and she could only imagine how breathtaking his smile would be when she did.

  Setting her phone on the seat, she started the car, reversed it out of the parking space, and drove it out onto the main road.

  She was thrumming with excitement, with anticipation, with…with…with love. Tears prickled her eyes. She’d been so unsure, so indecisive in the beginning, but now she knew without a doubt that this was what she wanted. His baby.

  Their baby.

  And she couldn’t wait to tell Zevris.

  “He’s going to be a daddy,” she said with a wide grin as she came to a stop behind the car in front of her at a red light. She could barely sit still as she anxiously waited for the light to turn green. She couldn’t get home fast enough. Tabitha just knew Zevris was going to make a perfect father.

  Once the light changed, and the cars in front of her started moving, she pressed her foot down on the gas pedal.

  As her car entered the intersection, she flinched at the loud blare of a horn to her left. She turned her head, and her eyes widened. A car had run the red light and was speeding toward her.

  I didn’t even get to tell him. He’ll never know.

  The car crashed into Tabitha’s driver’s side door, turning her world into a chaotic jumble of crunching metal, shattered glass, and agonizing pain before finally…blessed darkness.

  Twenty-Eight

  After he’d run through a brutal set of exercises that left his limbs trembling and his skin coated in sweat, taken Dexter out back, and showered, Zevris still couldn’t bring himself to go out into the garage to work. It simply didn’t feel right; how could he devote adequate attention to anything while he was worried about Tabitha?

  She said she will be fine. I must believe that.

  But that thought—and her assurances—provided him little comfort. Humans dealt with a multitude of illnesses every day. Though most of those ailments were minor, easily overcome by human immune systems, some were not…and a large many of people succumbed to disease daily. No matter how many times he tried to shove that knowledge aside, it kept returning to the forefront of his mind. So many of the threats on this planet were ones from which he could protect her, but infection and disease…

  Even the Azmus Protectorate’s greatest scientific minds had been unable to stop the plague from ravaging their species across all corners of the galaxy. What could Zevris do that they could not?

  I am making this situation harder on myself by pursuing these thoughts.

  He wandered into the kitchen. There was a pulsating, ominous feeling in his gut, constantly tightening and loosening, resurging whenever it seemed on the verge of fading away, sometimes so strongly that it crept up into his chest and throat.

  Dread. He knew the feeling, had experienced it before, but never to this degree—not even the many times during which his life had been in immediate danger.

  The dwelling seemed too quiet now. He’d grown accustomed to having some sort of sound filling it, whether it was Tabitha’s thumping music as she worked, her happy conversation, or her humming as she performed mundane tasks.

  Dexter walked into the kitchen from the living room. His tail was down, and he stared up at Zevris with those big, sad eyes. Tabitha called them puppy dog eyes and considered the expression to be a masterful manipulation technique. Zevris was inclined to agree; she’d utilized a similar look on him a few times to great effect.

  “She’ll be back soon,” he said as he strode to the fridge and tugged the door open.

  With a short, soft whine, Dexter padded over to join Zevris.

  “I’m not overreacting,” Zevris muttered. “She’s fine, and so am I.”

  He scanned the refrigerator’s contents, barely registering what any of them were. Each item seemed less appetizing than the last.

  Had his appetite not already been killed by worry, Tabitha’s absence would have finished it off. Sharing meals with her had become a beloved daily routine. It seemed wrong to have breakfast without her.

  He glanced down at Dexter, who was still looking at him with that please, take pity expression. The dog’s downturned tail wagged slowly, as though in expectation.

  Smirking, Zevris closed the fridge, went to the pantry, and gave Dexter a few treats from the jar Tabitha kept on a high shelf. Dexter’s sorrows were apparently forgotten while he devoured the crunchy treats.

  As Zevris watched the dog eat, his hand itched, brimming with restless energy. He had the urge to pluck his phone from his back pocket and check it, to see if Tabitha had sent any messages. To call her if she hadn’t.

  “She hasn’t even been gone an hour,” he growled. “Give her time to do what she set out to do, and get to work.”

  He shoved away from the counter, determined to walk into the garage and begin Hank’s custom coffee table. But his legs carried him past the laundry room, which led to the garage, down the hallway, and upstairs.

  He snarled a curse at himself as he entered his bedroom. There were so many subtle reminders of Tabitha scattered through the house, like the way she’d tossed the blanket aside on the unmade bed, or the little objects—including the keepsake box he’d gifted her—she’d placed on the dresser, or her scent lingering in the air. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on any of those things.

  His gaze settled on the television, and he stalked toward it. He willed his limbs to move calmly, smoothly, as he shifted the television aside and opened the wall panel. During his time on Earth, he’d checked the comm disc at least once a day without fail. On the majority of days, there was nothing.

  Today was not one of those days. The blue light was on. Command was calling.

  As he reached for the disc, his eyes fell on the small, velvety ring box resting amidst his faloran equipment, and he froze. He clenched his jaw. He’d meant to give her the ring inside that box yesterday, but with her having fallen ill, he’d missed his chance. She’d told him about so many of her wonderful memories from the Harvest Fair, and he’d wanted to make this year’s fair the best she’d ever attended.

  He’d wanted to make last night the night she agreed to become his wife.

  It seemed wrong for the ring to be sitting here like this, hidden away. He wanted it on her finger, showing all the world that she was his—that she was to join him in marriage.

  Before his turmoil could prevent him from doing so, he snatched up the comm disc. Though he knew his current emotional state wasn’t ideal for talking to the ultricar, he desperately needed a distraction from his own thoughts.

  Regardless, it was his duty to check in and report. He was still an althicar… Though there was a chance that he wouldn’t be by the time this communication had ended.

  He set the disc down atop the dresser and activated it.

  Several seconds after the identity scan had been completed, a hologram of Khelvar appeared.

  “Ultricar,” Zevris said gruffly.

  “Althicar. Do you have any updates?”

  “Nothing to report. Still working toward the objective. My seed has been planted many times, but my mate has not yet conceived.” Zevris released a harsh breath though his nostrils; he didn’t like referring to what he and Tabitha had shared in that fashion, didn’t like breaking something so deep and meaningful into such basic
terms. “Do you have any updates for me, Khelvar?”

  “I do.” Khelvar scratched his cheek and grunted. “Karak’duun, Zevris, you’re fortunate that I recognize your worth and am moderately fond of you.”

  The corner of Zevris’s mouth very nearly tilted up at that, but he maintained a neutral expression.

  “After some heated debate,” Khelvar continued, “my superiors have come to appreciate your position. They agree that the only matter of importance is knowing whether procreation is possible. The location of the vessel at the time of conception and birth makes no difference, so long as we are able to collect any associated data.”

  “The vessel is a person,” Zevris grated.

  “I know. My apologies. You’ll have to forgive a bit of detachment on this end, Zevris. I’ve never met your female, don’t know anything about her. And you and I have spent many years thinking only in terms of targets.”

  “I know, Khelvar. But she is my mate. I will not tolerate any disrespect toward her.”

  “Understood. But you know the nature of this work, Zevris, and you know how the scientists will approach it. I trust you’ll teach them to be adequately respectful. Just don’t kill any of our researchers.”

  This time, Zevris couldn’t keep that little smirk from his face. “I can make no promises on that matter. So, we are permitted to remain on Earth?”

  “You are.”

  “And should my mate conceive and birth a child, what then?”

  Though Khelvar’s solemn expression was nothing new, there was a hint of something even more serious and sincere in his eyes. “As I said, we will need only to collect any associated data. That will mean regular exams from our medical team for mother, father, and child, both during pregnancy and afterward. Despite the risks, Command has approved stationing the medical team on Earth.

  “Their only goals are to learn all they can and ensure mother and child are as healthy as possible. You’ve led us into uncharted territory with all this, but that may well be what saves our race. We need all the information we can find.”

  All Zevris had done was find the perfect female—his female. If that proved to be the salvation of his race, all the better, but Tabitha had become his only true concern. Tabitha, who had suddenly taken ill. Tabitha, who was not here at the moment.

  “So long as any exams are conducted in a fashion that is comfortable for my mate and potential child, that is reasonable. They will be treated as patients rather than test subjects.”

  “As I said, I’m sure you’ll straighten out the medical team.” Khelvar’s expression softened, the hard, military edges fading just enough to show the person beneath. “You’re sure about remaining on Earth, Zevris?”

  Releasing a soft sigh, Zevris glanced around the room. Everything here was so familiar to him. In his mind’s eye, he could see well beyond this bedroom. It wasn’t merely this house, this neighborhood, this region that made him want to stay; it was Tabitha, it was Dexter, it was the interesting people like Hank and Mia, the latter of whom he’d finally met a couple weeks before. It was the blue sky and green plants, the fragrant flowers. It was the wood he’d learned to work with his hands, the art, the expression. It was the feeling that, after spending half his life without a home, always in danger, always fighting, he was finally in the place he belonged.

  He could finally relax and be content. He could finally love and be loved.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything, save that Tabitha is my lifemate,” he said.

  Khelvar’s eyes seemed to search Zevris for several seconds. A small, surprisingly warm smile curled his lips upward. “I see that. You’ve changed, Zevris. That’s not good for what I need out of an althicar, but it is good for you. I’m glad for you, my friend.”

  “Thank you, Khelvar.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still your commanding officer until your mission is deemed complete. I doubt I could get approval to release now without your mate producing a child.”

  Zevris laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, ultricar.”

  “The medical team is currently traveling to you, estimated to arrive in about two Earth weeks. I’ll contact you with more information so we can get you in contact with them when they arrive. Be gentle with them, Zevris. They’re not althicars.”

  “I’ll take it into consideration.”

  Khelvar smirked. “I’m sure you will. Inform me immediately of any major occurrences.”

  The hologram blinked out, leaving the room quiet again.

  Zevris braced an arm on the dresser and stared down at the now dark comm disc. He’d expected the worst—an argument, a harsh reprimand for having dared demand something of a ranking officer, a reminder of his place in all this. He’d expected to be left with no choice but to take Tabitha and disappear somewhere on Earth.

  But this…he’d not expected Exthurizen Command to acquiesce so easily.

  Relief settled over him, followed by slow-building joy. Those emotions soon clashed with the others already roiling inside him. The resulting mix was somehow even more restless and confusing than before. His worry was too strong to be overpowered just yet, and he couldn’t enjoy this news without Tabitha—and without knowing that she was all right.

  His thoughts were no easier to navigate as he returned the comm disc to its hiding place, forcing his eyes away from the ring box, and walked downstairs, taking the steps at a glacial pace.

  Zevris and Tabitha could have a future. A real future. One they could plan for and embrace without the uncertainty represented by the Exthurizen hanging over their heads. There’d likely always be a faloran presence in that life apart from Zevris himself, but he could handle that. He could make sure it was minimally intrusive.

  But what about now? Was his lifemate well? Had she discovered anything yet?

  He finally allowed himself to take his phone out of his back pocket as he reached the bottom of the stairs. The clock said it was nine twenty-three; she had been gone for over an hour. Was that normal? He’d not been to any human medical clinics, wasn’t sure how long such visits normally took.

  There were no message alerts.

  Entering the kitchen, he unlocked the phone and brought up his text conversation with Tabitha. Their text history stretched back over the weeks. She’d sent him many messages, emojis, and pictures since he’d given back her phone. Many of the images she’d taken of herself had been silly or playful. A few had been decidedly naughtier; he didn’t allow himself to scroll through any of them now.

  Just as he was about to send her a message, he stopped.

  I’d like to do this myself.

  As much as it pained him to let her go—especially when she was clearly ill—he couldn’t have denied her request. He’d kidnapped Tabitha, had taken her against her will. This trust was the least he could offer her now.

  He locked the phone screen and slipped the device into his back pocket again. Uncertain of how he could feel so elated and miserable simultaneously, he walked into the living room, stopped at the sliding door, and called Dexter. He activated his disguise and tucked his tail into his pants as the dog loped over.

  The instant the door was open wide enough, Dexter darted out into the back yard. Zevris stepped out behind him and took in a deep breath. The air was crisp and cool, but it did nothing to clear his head.

  Dexter raced across the lawn, snatched up the worn tennis ball lying near the corner of the grass, and hurried back to Zevris. He ducked his head and dropped the ball at Zevris’s feet. It bounced twice and rolled until it bumped Zevris’s toes.

  “You’re lucky I need a good distraction.” Zevris bent forward, grabbed the ball, and tossed it to the far end of the yard.

  The dog watched the ball soar, keeping himself in place. Once the ball had hit the ground, he turned his head toward Zevris, tilting it questioningly.

  “Go get it!”

  Dexter sped off.

  Soon enough, Zevris had lost count of how many times they’d gone through t
he throw-retrieve-throw routine. The yard was small enough that Dexter could make the trip both ways in a few seconds. Zevris would’ve preferred to take the dog out for a run, or to a park, but he dared not leave now. He needed to be here when Tabitha returned.

  He checked his phone again sometime later. Another forty minutes had passed, and there were still no messages. Frowning, he brought Dexter back inside.

  Anxiousness buzzed in his stomach like a swarm of agitated insects; he wouldn’t be getting any work done now. He sat on the couch, and Dexter hopped up beside him a moment later. Absently patting the panting animal, Zevris leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television.

  He scrolled through lists of movies and television shows on various streaming services, but the titles and images blurred together to the point of meaninglessness. By the time he’d selected a random nature documentary, half an hour had passed.

  As the documentary played, Zevris repeatedly shifted his position on the couch, much to Dexter’s irritation. He bounced his leg impatiently, and his tail, which he’d again freed, lashed erratically atop the couch cushion.

  When he checked his phone again, it was almost eleven o’clock. Tabitha had been gone for three hours.

  He opened the messenger, entered his conversation with Tabitha, and wrote, Is everything okay?

  The message sent, and he watched the screen. It dimmed after a few seconds; he tapped it to ensure it didn’t automatically lock. Seconds passed, each dragging on for what felt like a century. No response appeared, no message alert chimed, not even the three blinking dots came up on the screen.

  Zevris turned off the television, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and pressed the call button.

  There was no ringtone; the call went directly into voicemail.

  The dread that had been roiling inside him all morning solidified into a boulder-sized chunk of ice and sank deep in his gut. Its chill flowed through his veins, flooding his heart and stealing his breath.

  Dexter lifted his head and made that whining sound. His sad eyes did not appear to be an attempt at manipulation this time; he seemed to sense Zevris’s distress.