by Kyle, Celia
Okay, so apparently, she was a gift from the gods? Er, goddess?
She blinked and licked her lips as she sorted through the alien’s words. He claimed he didn’t want to hurt her though he had brought her to his camp—his own tent—against her will. The rest of the women were still back at the ship. He had taken her and only her. He had to have a reason.
“Let me go,” she pulled against his grip to make her point.
He tilted his head to the side, his stare roaming over her face. As quickly as he tackled her, he was gone, rolling aside and smoothly gaining his feet. He held out one clawed hand and she stared at it—at the deadly nails. Nails he wasn’t using on her in anger or to cause her pain.
“Come.” He shook his hand slightly. “We must return to camp.”
She nibbled her lower lip and placed her palm on his.
His fingers curled around hers in a firm grip just shy of painful, as if he was determined not to lose her again. She stared at their hands with a frown and then turned the expression on him, her gaze bouncing between his face and his hold.
It took him a few moments, but the alien finally understood her desire and released her. He straightened his spine—she assumed they had spines—and peered at her from his impressive height. “Do not run again. It is dangerous.”
She peered into the dark, forbidden desert and then the alien warlord—those fierce-looking blades strapped to his back. She wasn’t sure she was safe, but the alien hadn’t hurt her… yet. Who knew what lurked in the dark? She decided she’d stay with him for a time. At least until she had a better grasp of her situation. Then she could decide if running was the best choice.
“I won’t run.”
The alien studied her, red eyes on her mouth. Had she cursed the language barrier enough yet?
With a sigh she edged closer to him and slowly reached for his hand once more. She gripped his dry, scaly fingers in her own and gently squeezed. “I’ll stay. I won’t run.”
The alien’s eyes narrowed, and a forked tongue escaped from between his thin lips—once, twice, then a third time before disappearing all together.
She tried again, this time patting her chest. “I’m going to stay with,” she pointed at him. “You.” She made the motions again. “Me with you.”
As if he still didn’t trust her, he squeezed her hand and tugged. Lightly at first to see if she followed and she launched into motion, not wanting to give him a reason to squeeze harder.
She really, really hated that he didn’t have a TransComm Implant. Like, a lot.
They were both quiet as he led her back to camp, his long, sure strides eating up the distance, and she jogged to catch up. The thin booties she wore didn’t provide a firm surface and she sank into spots of soft sand. More than once she stumbled and only remained upright because of the alien’s unrelenting hold. It wasn’t until the third—fourth?—yank that he lost his patience with her.
The warlord jolted to a stop and spun, a hiss escaping his mouth. “Why do you fight me? The beasts will eat a gift from Eana just as they’ll eat an Ateran. Come.”
Sheri gestured at her legs and then his. “My legs are shorter than yours. Slow down.” He gave her a blank stare at first and then his features settled into a different expression. One she’d call… interested. She didn’t want him interested. She wanted him to slow his pace. “My legs are short. Your legs are long,” she enunciated each syllable.
The warlord grunted. “Come.”
“Come,” she grumbled low. “I lizardman, you puny human. Let me drag you across a desert.” She grunted like him and he swung his attention to her, forked tongue making a whip-fast appearance.
“You speak oddly, Gift.”
He was the one who was odd, not her.
“Let’s just go.” She waved her hand toward the dim glow in the distance. She was tired, dirty, scared, and confused. Further miming could wait until she was off her feet. “Lead the way.”
The alien stared at her for a moment, not making any attempt to return to their tromping across the sand.
“Seriously, go.” She eased forward one stride and then another until she was leading him. She tugged on his hand and he stepped closer, his movements slow but at least he was moving and didn’t stop until he once more took the lead.
He took the lead and drew her past the ring of aliens that surrounded the fire and further past tents that had been destroyed in her bid for freedom. She ignored the disgruntled grumbles of the other aliens and skirted their dark stares. Yeah, she’d screwed things up across the small, makeshift village.
The warlord slowed his pace when they neared a tent—this one larger than the others spread throughout the sands. The one she’d escaped not long ago? The warlord’s?
Her question was answered the moment it passed through her mind, the alien releasing her hand long enough to pull back one of the flaps and then nudge her into the glowing space. The torches still burned, heat billowing from the interior to wrap around them both. Unease crept into her blood, the close quarters sending a frisson of fear down her spine.
“Be well, Gift,” the alien cooed and trilled. The large hand that had held her so tightly was gentle when he caressed her. “No harm will come to you.”
Right.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly before venturing into the tent. She bent low past the flaps and stayed crouched while she sought out a space for herself. She avoided what she thought was the sleeping pallet and chose to sit cross-legged on a woven mat in the opposite corner. The alien followed her, resting on his heels near the entrance, and simply stared at her. In truth, they stared at each other, neither of them saying a word.
Which wasn’t how she’d get any answers. First, she had to make herself understandable.
“I’m Sheri.” She tapped the center of her chest. “Sher-ri. Sheri.” She pointed at him. “What’s your name?”
The alien sat a little straighter, head tipped to the side, tongue flickering in and out of sight.
“Sheri.” She pointed at herself and then him. “Who are you?”
“You wish to know me?”
At least he got the point. “Yes.” She gave him an exaggerated nod. “Yes. I’m Sheri and you’re…”
The alien straightened his spine though remained squatting. “Warlord Drazan of the Red Sands.”
Sheri swallowed hard when the word “warlord” left his mouth. She only hoped the ship hadn’t crash landed in the middle of some Medieval alien warzone.
“Sheri.” She gestured at herself and then licked her lips, hoping that she didn’t offend him when she next spoke. She dropped her voice and tried the alien’s language. “Warlord Drazan.”
“Drazan.” He repeated his name without the warlord attached so she figured he wanted her to drop it, too.
“Dra…zan.”
The alien—Drazan—grunted. That wasn’t exactly praise, but if he answered to her bastardized version of his name, she didn’t care.
“Sheri.” She repeated her own name for what seemed like the millionth time.
“Shar-ee.”
“Sheri.”
“Sher-ee.”
“Good enough,” she mumbled and nodded. “Yes. Sheri. You’re Drazan and I’m Sheri.”
Drazan’s lips-mouth-part tightened and… was that happiness in his eyes? If he were human—which he totally wasn’t—she’d say he was pleased by her.
“Sheri, Gift of Eana, Kode to Drazan.”
Yeah, Sheri was good with most of what he said except for one little word. “Kode?”
“Kode of Drazan.” More lip tightening and was it just her or did “of” seem particularly proprietary. As if she was something that belonged to Drazan?
Not good. “What does kode mean? Kode?”
“Gift of Eana is kode. We are meant to be together. Eana will give us many hatchlings.”
She closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her, hiding from what he’d said. Kode obviously meant something like ma
te or husband and Sheri wasn’t anyone’s mate or husband or anything. At least, not until she got to Nyx Station and was handed off, right? She was human, and he was… not.
Because hatchlings? God, was she supposed to lay eggs? That just… She couldn’t even.
“What about the other women?” She turned to question him about other things. “The other,” she queried her implant and thought of the Ateran words she needed. The TransComm was still learning the language so she cobbled together what she could. “…aliens? Females?” She added English into the mix again—combining the two. “The women on the ship? Humans. Ladies. Females.”
“Fee-ma-zz?” Lizards weren’t built for the letter “L” apparently.
“Yes,” she nodded. “Females. Women.” She dropped into Ateran and decided to use the title he’d used for her earlier. “Other gifts of Eana? What happened to them?”
“I will keep you safe. The Red Sands will keep the other fee-ma-zz from harm.”
Sheri crossed her arms. Keeping them from harm sounded an awful lot like holding them captive.
“What about their freedom?” The longer they spoke, the more the TransComm Implant decoded, the odd sounds coming to her lips with ease. “Are they prisoners? Am I a prisoner?”
“Not prisoners. But it is… complicated.”
Life was complicated. Freedom shouldn’t be. She almost said those words aloud but swallowed them. Antagonizing the scary alien wearing swords wasn’t the smartest idea. Taking a moment to think allowed her to remember Drazan’s warnings about the beasts beneath the sands and then it went further to the presence of those other aliens. The grey-scaled warriors.
Drazan was red and said he came from the “Red Sands.” Were the others from the “Gray Sands,” then?
“What are you called?” He eased closer, just a single, crawled step but it was closer.
“My name is Sheri.”
“No,” he released a rhythmic wheeze, which she figured was his laugh. “Your kind.” He gestured up and down her body. “You are different. You have no protection from the sands. What are you?”
“Oh.” Her face warmed and she took a deep breath. “I’m human. From Earth.”
“Not of Atera,” he murmured, his gaze going distant. “The seers speak of beings from other worlds. We have never met others.” His stare returned to her. “Before you.”
“I figured,” she spoke to herself. She ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the strands until more of the sand she gathered rained down on her. “Will you help us?” She kept the words simple while she struggled to absorb his language. “Some of the other women were injured. They need help.”
Drazan raised his chin. “It is our duty to help. We would never allow the gifts to suffer.” He cocked his head in thought for a moment, tongue flickering. “When the Living Sands warriors arrive, they will assist the gifts. They are Atera’s most skilled healers.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t know if she could trust his words, but if they would help the other women, she had to accept the aid. They only had so many medical supplies. Even if they still had the medical staff, there weren’t enough of the necessities to take care of everyone. Normal circumstances would have seen the most injured put back into stasis, but that wasn’t possible. They had to work with their limited resources and that included accepting help from the aliens.
“Tell me of the metal box you arrived in. Your vessel.” He eased nearer, nothing more than a few feet separating them. “How does it function? How far can it travel? How many worlds have you visited?”
“The ship?” Sheri frowned. “I don’t know how it works. I’m a…” she decided to go with Drazan’s term, “…healer. Not a ship builder. I’ve never visited other worlds. This is the first time I’ve ever left Earth and I’m starting to think it was a mistake.” She looked around the barren tent. “This isn’t where I was supposed to end up.”
Drazan stiffened, and he stared down at her with a stern gaze. “Your vessel was meant to come here no matter your intention. It was the will of Eana.”
“You said that before.” She ignored his dark expression. “What is ‘Eana’?”
“The goddess.” A solemn look crossed Drazan’s face. “Eana watches over Atera. From beyond the stars, she guides us. We have known that strange vessels navigate the stars. Eana guides them—guided you.”
Sheri shook her head. She wasn’t a religious person, but even if she were, she wouldn’t have believed there was some mystical goddess guiding ships through the stars. “I’m sorry,” she spoke softly. “I don’t know anything about this goddess of yours. I’m just a woman from another world.”
He snorted, thin nostrils flaring. “You may doubt me if you like, Sheri, but you and the others like you are gifts from the goddess. You do not have to believe for it to be true.”
He crawled to the sleeping pallet, apparently his signal that they were done talking. “Rest, Sheri of Earth. Tomorrow, there is much to be done.”
Sheri followed his movements as he settled on the rough mat and pulled a hide blanket over himself. She remained in place across from him, mere feet separating their bodies, and brought her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her shins and shivered against the chill. When had it gotten so cold? As hot as it’d been during the day, the temperature had dropped drastically after the twin suns had set.
And her captor had the only blanket.
Nibbling her lower lip, she scooted a bit closer, attention on his face as she moved. When he didn’t react, she nudged herself a little nearer. Then nearer still. At least close enough to feel the tanned hide beneath her fingertips.
Drazan remained motionless through it all, giving her the courage to lie at his side and wiggle beneath the warmth of his blanket. She fought to keep from actually touching him—not ready to feel his scales against her skin once more. Though, as she watched him drift to sleep, she couldn’t help but find him almost handsome. She’d already accustomed herself to a marriage with a non-human. Letting her mind stretch to inspecting the alien as a man, not as a scary as hell warrior, she found herself wondering what it would be like to touch him. To explore his exotic features and bulging muscles. Awake and bristling with weapons, he frightened her. At rest and calm he…
He made her want to get closer.
Sheri sighed and laid her head on the mat, closing her eyes as exhaustion overtook her. As much as she wanted to revel in exploring her very first alien, she couldn’t forget that Drazan was her captor. She was still trapped in a dangerous situation, and the creature—man?—lying next to her was a part of that danger.
Chapter Seven
Drazan could not sleep. Not with thoughts of the exquisite creature at his side intruding on his attempts to find his rest. Beyond that, he found himself filled with a growing desire for her. The need began in his loins and spread throughout him from claw to claw. It took everything inside him to resist the urge to climb atop her and claim her as his mate as an Ateran warrior was meant to take his kode.
However, despite the strength of the urge, he knew it was not yet time. Had she been one of his own kind, she would have already seduced him, offered herself to him. She would have been deep within her mating cycle, as well, her own desire an equal to his.
But Sheri was from another world. She was another species. Drazan would have never thought it possible that a being from another world—a human—could stir the blood of an Ateran. Though, on the other claw, Eana would not have sent the human women if they did not belong on Atera and weren’t destined to mate with their people.
Drazan forced himself to his feet, leaving Sheri huddled under the simple hide of ceaq. She had reacted to him with fear and confusion. It would take time for her to understand why she had been brought to Atera, to understand her destiny. He could not attempt to bed her until he had helped her accept her new reality. To do otherwise would be dishonorable and he would never harm her in such a way.
He only hoped she accepted her situation soon.<
br />
Unable to sleep, he paced back and forth in his tent until the sound of soft, hushed voices from outside reached him. He ducked out of the tent and scanned his surroundings until he spotted Telu standing a short distance away. His paladin spoke quietly with one of Drazan’s guards.
Telu looked up when Drazan exited, and he crossed the sands to speak with his second in command. Telu would not be potentially disturbing the warlord’s rest if he did not have something important to discuss.
“Warlord,” Telu bowed his head. “I was on my way to awaken you.”
“What has happened?” Drazan continued to scan his surroundings for signs of danger. “Speak up and do not waste time.”
“The delegation from the Living Sands has arrived.” Telu gestured toward the south. “They set up camp over the next dune, but they attempted to approach the metal box—the vessel from the stars. I told them of your orders, that none were granted entrance until you gave your word. They were not pleased. Nor are the warriors from the Hard Sands. I increased the guard to prevent them from attempting to enter again.”
Drazan rubbed his claws against the scales of his chin. He had been so preoccupied with Sheri that he had not taken a moment to ponder the Aterans from the Hard Sands and Living Sands. He would have to face them both now, before the tension increased.
“Let us go to the Living Sands camp.” Drazan nodded to Telu. He turned to his personal guard then. “Stay. My kode is resting. She is not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, warlord.” The guard stood at attention.
Drazan and Telu stalked across the pale sands, a pair of guards at their backs as they strode toward the Living Sands encampment. They crossed the southern dune and found a large group of tents spread across the darkness. Green and blue-scaled Aterans moved among the tents, many of them flexing their claws and their lips peeled back to expose their fangs—agitation.
By the time Drazan and his small entourage arrived, several of the Living Sands males had spotted them and met them at the edge of camp. Traze, warlord of the Living Sands, led the way. He was nearly as tall as Drazan, with blue scales on his arms and his underbelly lightly tanned. Drazan had dealt with the leader many times before. He had always found Traze to be both honorable and level-headed. Drazan would even admit Traze was a wiser man than he for Drazan’s blood had always run hot and ripe for battle. He held out some hope that Traze would remain as calm as he had in the past and would not let conflict over the human females end in bloodshed.
