Passionate by Moonbeam

by Cynthia Sax

  Gradually her tremors subsided, leaving her drained of worry and stress. She sagged against the back of the chair, lowering her legs. Vern shuddered, his ridges rattling, his eyes wide and dazed.

  Win’s lips lifted. She had done that, made him come that hard. “Remember this moment, my Vern.” She reached out, touched the cool screen with her heated fingertips.

  Vern pressed his fingertips against his screen, mirroring her action, his hands larger, more colorful than hers. “I will never forget, my Win.” The green returned to his eyes, twirling into the blue. “Tomorrow night, I will claim you.”

  Win stayed silent, not wishing to ruin the moment, knowing he would never claim her. She had scuttled the proposed alliance between Earth and Sila. She wasn’t worthy of Fixer Vern Zajac.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Vern stalked through the doors to Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko’s administrative chambers, his boot heels ringing on the metal tile, his heart filled with determination.

  He had waited his life span for this moment, always following protocol, supporting others as they claimed their mates, fixing things, people, situations that needed fixing, suppressing his unnatural urges to explore other statuses.

  Today, he claimed his reward, seeking permission to bond with Fixer Winona Tilsdale, the most beautiful and intelligent of all human females.

  Ruler Arystokrata glanced upward from his personal viewscreen. The dignitary was seated behind his metallic floating desk, his spine straight, his green face stern and unyielding. “Fixer Vern Zajac.” He gestured toward a single-ass support. “Tell me of your damage.”

  “Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” Vern sat, the coolness of the metal seat felt through his uniform. “We approach Earth.” He lowered his gaze, appearing submissive and non-threatening. He had learned early in his life span not to indulge his rebellious nature, as individuality within Fixers was perceived as damage. “We will meet with Fixer Winona Tilsdale and Fixer Imogen Roberto at the end of this planet rotation.”

  Ruler Arystokrata raised one of his dark-green eye ridges. “I am aware of this.”

  Vern shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to physically remove the smugness from the Ruler’s countenance. “I wish to claim Fixer Winona Tilsdale as my druzka.” The Ruler’s lips turned downward and Vern hastily continued, “I graduated second best in my mating class. I have performed admirably in all tasks. I have aided all Silans requesting fixing.” He gazed pointedly at Ruler Arystokrata.

  “I am aware of how you have assisted my druzka,” the Ruler said dryly. “It has no bearing on this matter.” Arrogance radiated from him.

  When the matters pertained to Ruler Arystokrata, it had bearing. Vern curled his fingers into fists and concealed his hands under the table surface. “Fixer Winona Tilsdale wishes to be claimed.” He lowered his voice, feigning a meekness he didn’t feel.

  “Fixer Winona Tilsdale would most benefit Silans if she remained on Earth.” Ruler Arystokrata drifted his fingers over his personal viewscreen, deeming not to give Vern his full attention. “And there are many Silans more deserving of a druzka. We must all wait our turn, Fixer Vern Zajac.”

  Vern gritted his teeth, biting back his harsh words. While Warrior Miar Najazd had waited his turn, his druzka had been terminated in a stealth Mravenec attack upon Earth. Vern had learned from the Warrior’s mistake. He would not wait. “Have I not proven myself as a Silan?” He glared at the Ruler’s bent head.

  Ruler Arystokrata raised his gaze, meeting Vern’s. Vern didn’t look away, too angry to pretend, to feel less strongly than he did, and the Ruler’s frown deepened. “If you return to Sila with a druzka now, every Silan will also wish their druzkas now. There will be no order on our planet.”

  “If I return to Sila, they will wish their druzkas,” Vern replied. “If I stay on Earth and aide Fixer Winona Tilsdale with her duties, no Silan will know she is my druzka. There will be order on our—”

  The doors slid open. “Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” Warrior Miar Najazd strode into the chambers, his green-and-black eye ridges lowered, his eyes dark with fierce emotion. Talker Mowca Bawic followed him, mere hints of green appearing in his primarily purple face.

  Sladky matka. Has damage occurred to Earth, to my Win? Vern stood, faced the Silans. “Warrior Miar Najazd, Talker Mowca Bawic.”

  “Talker Mowca Bawic has intercepted signals from a Mravenec ship.” Warrior Miar ignored Vern’s greeting, the break in protocol reinforcing the seriousness of the situation. “Our enemy knows of our rendezvous with the humans. We must deviate from our plans.”

  “We cannot leave the humans unprotected.” Ruler Arystokrata tapped the small viewscreen. “What do you propose, Warrior Miar Najazd?”

  “I propose we defend the humans from the air with our warship and we send a contingent of Warriors to fight the Mravenecs on the ground,” Warrior Miar, Sila’s second Warrior, advised.

  “I will be part of the ground contingent,” Vern volunteered, prepared to openly break with Fixer status and become a Warrior to safeguard his Win.

  Ruler Arystokrata raised his eye ridges.

  “If we battle the Mravenecs, there might be damage. A Fixer will be needed,” Vern added, determined to join the Warriors, even if it meant disobeying his Ruler. “I have combat experience.”

  “If you have combat experience, you know Fixers do not join Warriors in battle.” Warrior Miar crossed his big arms in front of his chest, his booted feet braced apart.

  Vern matched his pose, not at all intimidated by Warrior Miar’s greater height. “I will be part of the ground contingent, Warrior Miar Najazd.”

  Warrior Miar blinked his black-and-green eyes. “I did not know you had a Warrior’s heart, Fixer Vern Zajac.”

  “My druzka is one of the humans we rendezvous with,” Vern explained.

  A black flush swept over Warrior Miar’s strong countenance. He turned his gaze toward a wall panel. His fingers curled into great fists. His stance was rigid. Silence stretched.

  Vern waited, his fate and that of his Win’s resting on the Warrior’s broad shoulders.

  “We have space for one small Fixer,” Warrior Miar finally conceded, his voice gruff.

  “I authorize your plans, Warrior Miar Najazd.” Ruler Arystokrata nodded. “Prepare for battle.”

  Warrior Miar pivoted on his heels and stalked from the chambers. Vern and Talker Mowca followed him. “I will send weapons to your sleeping chambers, Fixer Vern Zajac.” Warrior Miar didn’t slow his pace, expecting them to match his longer strides.

  “That would be appreciated,” Vern murmured, aware that other Fixers didn’t amass the weaponry he’d collected. They didn’t spend every planet rotation practicing in the target chambers. They also didn’t study languages as a Talker might or take machinery apart as Breakers did.

  His fascination with other statuses was a secret he kept concealed. If revealed, he would never earn a mate, never be able to claim his Win. Vern pressed his palm against a control panel and entered his sleeping chambers, the doors sliding closed behind him.

  Pine scented the re-circulated air, the aroma reminding him of his brief forays on Earth. A bed dominated the small room, the pieced-together bedspread human made. Images of his Win decorated the gray walls, her wild brown curls framing her exotically pale face, her brown eyes filled with laughter, desire and other vivid emotions.

  He tapped on a wall panel. It slid open, displaying tools all Fixers collected. He tapping on the new panel, a secret assortment of hoarded weapons was revealed.

  Vern palmed a tiny yet powerful zbran, its weight familiar, the mechanism adjusted for his body. He slid the weapon into a custom-fabricated holster and strapped the holster around his shoulders. Warrior Miar wouldn’t know it wasn’t the zbran he had sent and Vern gambled on the Warrior not noticing the holster.

  He covered his body with more zbrans, a long karabin and assorted daggers. This planet rotation, he would terminate beings to protect his druzka.
It was an act that should horrify a Fixer. Vern felt only a grim determination.

  * * * * *

  Win stood with Professor Roberto on the edge of the o-ring and stared up at the night sky. The flattened circle of pine trees had been designated as the meeting point. One of the lights above them could be a Silan spaceship. Win’s stomach gurgled, agitated by her worry and excitement.

  “We should have brought a telescope.” She twisted her lips. Other astrobiologists wouldn’t have forgotten that key piece of equipment.

  “I thought the idea was to see your Silans at close proximity. We don’t need a telescope for that.” Professor Roberto crouched by a shattered tree stump. “They’re industrious. I’ll give them that much.” She tapped a jagged piece of wood. “A type of logging machine must have made this circle. That would have served two purposes. They could perpetuate the alien visitation rumors while they fund the hoax by selling the lumber.”

  “This isn’t a hoax.” Win rehearsed the greetings one more time in her mind. “Should I greet them in Silan?”

  “No.” The professor clumped around the field, kicking broken branches. “Greet them in English if they arrive. You’re less likely to make a mistake.” She glanced upward. “My prediction is we won’t see your so-called aliens. You’ll be contacted tomorrow, supplied with an excuse for why they didn’t show.”

  “They’ll show.” Win fixed her gaze on one light. Is it increasing in size? “Professor.” The light shot to the right and disappeared.

  “What is it?” Professor Roberto stood beside her.

  “I thought I saw something.” She rubbed one of her hands over her face, the stress of the last week draining her.

  The professor tilted her head back. “That.” She pointed at a collection of three lights. “Is a plane, Miss Tilsdale.” It grew larger at an impressive speed. “And it’s headed directly toward us.” She stepped backward.

  “The plane stopped.” The lights hovered above them. Wind whipped Win’s hair against her face, leaving stinging trails upon her cheeks.

  “It stopped?” Her mentor shuffled forward, her brown cardigan flapping around her slender body. “It must be one of those technologically advanced army planes.” Metal scraped against metal and light flooded the o-ring, blinding them.

  “Professor Roberto.” Win reached forward, searching for the older woman with her fingertips. She felt nothing.

  “I’m—”

  A loud whirling noise drowned out Professor Roberto’s words. Win squinted up at the bright light, shading her eyes with her hands, searching for the source of the sound.

  “My Win!” Vern’s deep voice penetrated the noise. His hard form collided with her smaller body, and they tumbled, legs entwining, his thick arms strapped around her in an unbreakable embrace.

  Two bolts of red lightning flashed, striking the ground where she’d been standing mere moments earlier. The scent of burned wood and earth filled the air. Win’s stomach heaved. That could have been me.

  A boom echoed, metal screeched and the lights above their heads shifted, a comforting shadow stretching over them. Win blinked. The black spots in her vision receded and she gazed up into Vern’s unusual face. His lips were pressed together, his cheeks colored predominately blue, his body protectively covering hers.

  “You saved my life.” She touched his chin. Soft skin covered hard bone. He was big and strong and alien and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone harm her. She knew this deep in her soul.

  “You are not safe yet.” Vern’s blue-and-green eyes swirled, the motion hypnotic. He gazed upward. She did also. Beams of red and electric-blue lit the night sky, as though bouncing off invisible shields surrounding two large ships.

  A beam penetrated the barrier, hitting one of the ships. It shuddered and a silver panel fell toward them. “Lejno.” Vern rolled, taking Win with him. The sharp sheet of torn metal sliced into the pine-covered ground close to them, too close.

  Win’s heart pounded. “We have to get out of here.” She pushed on Vern’s cloth-covered shoulders. Vern hesitated for one mind-numbing moment and then stood, allowing her to scramble to her feet. Booms repeated as the two ships fired. Fuel-scented smoke curled around them.

  “Professor.” She glanced around them. Shadowy forms appeared and disappeared in the smoke. Were they friend or foe?

  “Warrior Miar Najazd,” Vern bellowed. He hooked one of his huge arms around Win’s waist, holding her to his hard body.

  Win breathed deeply, inhaling his musky male scent. His presence calmed her. He was here. He’d protect her.

  “I have the other human female.” An even larger male stalked toward them, the Professor’s limp body slung over one of his shoulders, guns clasped in both of his hands.

  “What did you do to her?” Win surged forward. Vern held her back.

  “She…sleeps.” The warrior lowered his eye ridges. Where Vern was a soothing blue, Miar was a menacing black. “I did not harm her, little female.” He loomed over her, his stance threatening.

  “You better not have harmed her.” Win backed into Vern’s body, her actions belying her words. “Not if you want peace with our people.”

  Miar turned his head, ignoring her. He flared his nostrils. “The Mravenecs approach.” The air whistled around them. Males shouted. A strange clicking noise surrounded them. “Our warriors will fight this enemy.” Miar looked at Win. “Where is your Earth vehicle, little one? You must leave this place.” A red laser beam zapped a stump by his foot, leaving a huge hole in the wood. “Quickly.”

  Aliens are fighting other aliens here on Earth. Win sucked in her breath. “Come with me.” She sprinted down a trail, leaping over fallen branches and dodging shattered trees, heading for the dirt road where the limousine and their driver waited.

  Vern quickly caught up to her. He folded his thick fingers around her right hand, easily matching her pace. Win ran, pumping her free arm, cursing her sedentary lifestyle. She should have spent more hours in a gym and less time in the laboratory. Her chest ached and her legs burned, sweat streaming down her heated face.

  “Move faster, my Win,” Vern urged, pulling her forward. Win stumbled, pitching toward the ground, stopped only by his grasp on her hand. He cursed softly, saying a Silan word she didn’t yet know, and he swung her into his arms.

  “Let me down.” She swatted his chest. “I’m too big. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Too big?” Vern chuckled, the green and blue pigments colliding in his unusual eyes. “You are tiny.” He rushed toward the road, his speed inhuman. The tall pine trees lining the path blurred. The night breeze lifted Win’s curls.

  She clung to Vern’s neck. His chest rose and fell, the soft fabric of his blue flight suit pressing against her breasts. Multicolored lights slashed the sky around his hairless head, creating interesting shadows on his cheeks.

  Here is big sexy proof other life exists in the universes. Win gazed at Vern, marveling at his coloring, his not-quite-human features, how his body had adapted for his home planet. She rested her cheek against him, his heartbeat strong and steady.

  Other astrobiologists had boasted of finding fossil microbes on Mars. She saw, touched, smelled, talked with an alien life form. Win’s nipples grew taut. She wanted to do more with her hot alien.

  Vern groaned, the sound rolling up his body, rattling his ridges. “Not now, druzka.”

  Can he smell me? Win’s face heated. “We’re in the middle of a battle zone.” Vern didn’t say anything. “I wasn’t thinking of sex.”

  “I think of sex with you always.” Vern’s voice lowered, his rumble coiling around her. “I ache with want.”

  He aches with want for me. Win licked her suddenly dry lips and Vern groaned again. “Will your Warriors be able to stop the Mravenecs?” she asked, seeking to distract him.

  “They are not my Warriors.” Vern’s jaw jutted. “I am a Fixer. Fixers do not fight. Warriors do not fix.”

  “You saved me,” she said softly. He’d exp
lained how the Silans were grouped by their abilities, a class system Vern didn’t appeared suited for. “And you are easier to talk to than Talker Mowca Bawic.”

  Blue color flooded Vern’s face. “Do not speak of this to any Silan.”

  “I won’t,” Win assured him. “It’ll be our secret.” Some of the tension eased from his body. “You can be yourself with me.”

  “I am a Fixer,” he insisted. “I am myself.” Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of the battle above them and their breaths rasping in and out.

  Win watched the sky-lighting aerial battle, confident the Silans would be victorious and feeling smug that the scientists who had once belittled her would now be forced to concede she was right. The proof above them was too loud and too bright to ever be mistaken for a natural phenomenon.

  Vern broke through the tree line and carried her onto the road. Bill, the driver, stood by the limousine’s back bumper. He stared up at the sky, his mouth open and his hat slightly tilted to the side.

  Vern straightened to his full impressive height. “You have a human male by your vehicle.” He glared at the man.

  Bill’s gaze met Vern’s, and the man’s eyes widened. “What the—”

  “Did he touch you?” Vern thundered. His fingers closed around a small space gun strapped to his side.

  “He didn’t touch me.” Win shook her head. “He drives the limousine, the vehicle,” she clarified. “He sits in the front. I sit in the back.”

  “He’s wearing some sort of Halloween costume, right?” Bill laughed shakily. “Right?” The pitch of his voice rose.

  “Right.” Win wiggled and Vern lowered her, their bodies sliding together, his form unyielding against her soft curves. “It’s a Halloween costume.”

  “Where do I place the female elder?” Miar stepped onto the road. Professor Roberto’s limp body was draped over his shoulder.

  Bill’s face paled even more. “He’s wearing a costume too?”

  “Of course, he’s wearing a costume.” Win struggled to maintain a blank expression as she answered, lying not a skill she excelled at. “They were at the same party.”