Taken for Granite

by Nancey Cummings

  “Good,” Tas replied bitterly. He verified that his ex-handler lay on the cold ground, scarlet spreading across her abdomen. From this height, he could barely detect the tang of copper and blood. Soon it would attract predators.

  “She’s hurt,” Juniper said.

  Tas hated to repeat himself, so he remained silent.

  “She took a bullet for you.”

  “She tackled the shooter and suffered the consequences.” His ex-handler could not have meant to sacrifice herself for him. He refused to believe it.

  “And if she didn’t, it’d be you on the ground!”

  He ran a hand up from the base of his horns. Rhododendron had helped him previously, if in her own twisted way. She set the stage for his initial escape and gave him back his sigil. As loath as he found assisting his captor, he owed her a debt.

  “We do not have time,” he said.

  “Then let’s not waste time with feeble arguments, huh?”

  “Oh, she totally used her Big Sister voice on you,” Chloe added.

  He did not appreciate the commentary.

  “Very well. I do not know what you propose we do, as none of us have medical supplies,” he said.

  “She’s in pain and alone,” Juniper said. “The least we can do is hold her hand.”

  Damn her for being correct.

  He gathered the two females to him and glided to the ground. Juniper rushed Rhododendron’s side, murmuring words of comfort. She placed the female’s head on her lap and smoothed back her pale hair.

  Unhappy with the situation, he inspected the wound. The bullet remained inside the female’s gut and recognized the unmistakable, foul septic odor. He had seen the wound before and knew there would be no recovery without medical attention.

  “She has lost a great deal of blood, but the bullet tore through her intestine. She needs a medic, or she will perish,” he said.

  “So do that,” Juniper replied.

  Tas wanted to tell her that Rhododendron was his tormentor, his nemesis, the twisted individual who thought that giving him years of physical and psychological torture was better than death.

  “She said you were her friend,” Chloe said, crouching near Juniper.

  “We are not!”

  Chloe’s eyes never left the bleeding female. “Look, she’s not my favorite person, but we can’t leave her to die or eaten by bears.”

  He looked at his two females, sitting in the dirt, concerned with the life of the female who would have made them the playthings of the Syndicate. Their hearts held more compassion and kindness than he thought wise, but he would not love them if they were not so.

  “Very well. I will bring Chloe to the ship and return with a medic,” he said.

  “How long will that take?” Juniper asked.

  He looked toward the peak, to Mount Nirvana. He had memorized the maps. “With a favorable wind, thirty minutes.” He picked up the discarded firearm on the ground and handed it to Juniper. “Here. Do not hesitate to use this on anyone who is not with me.”

  “And bears,” Chloe added.

  “Bears?” Juniper looked toward the tree line. “Just hurry.”

  He lifted Chloe into his arms, the youngling weighing practically nothing.

  “Odious weed? Time to garden?” she asked.

  “Was that not sufficiently theatric?” He had watched several action films with her in the motel and liked when the hero gave a dramatic line before a fight.

  “It rocked.”

  juniper

  Gunfire echoed through the mountain pass and Juniper jumped with each report. Each shot was another gargoyle injured or captured. She hoped that they would be able to reach the ship before the Rose caught them. As much as she hated to wish ill on another person, she sort of hoped the Rose agents got caught in an avalanche or attacked by wolves.

  She flinched at every snap of a twig, constantly scanning the area for bears.

  Bears.

  That had to be a lame attempt at humor, right? Chloe didn’t know how her joke would get under Juniper’s skin. The day was strange and long and she had another person’s blood on her hands and pants, and Chloe thought it’d be funny to joke about bears.

  Her last day on Earth was certainly memorable.

  Rhoda shivered. Juniper took off her coat and covered the woman. Sitting in the sun, the cold didn't bother her, and clearly, Rhoda needed the warmth more than she did. The cold actually hadn’t bothered her at all, not even last night when the windows inside the house had frosted over. Chloe had piled on the layers and complained loudly, but Juniper thought that was just a teenager being dramatic. Tas had said that his mating fluid—juice? What word did he use?—would change her in subtle ways. She could appreciate not being bothered by the cold. What other changes would she find?

  A figure appeared against the gray and white of the peaks, derailing her thoughts. At first, Juniper was unsure if she saw an illusion of shadows moving across the rock or another gargoyle. As the figure grew closer, the distinct wings and horns of a Khargal profile became evident.

  Not Tas, though. It was a stranger.

  Juniper held the pistol with both hands, aiming at the gargoyle.

  The male landed, immediately walking when his feet touched the ground.

  He smiled, baring fangs, and spoke in a soothing voice, the words guttural and so not English.

  “Where is Tas?”

  The gargoyle wore a blue and gray form-fitting uniform. He pointed to Rhoda and placed a bag on the ground. Juniper’s grip tightened on the pistol, following the gargoyle’s movements. Carefully he opened the bag and withdrew a silver canister. Again, he pointed to Rhoda and repeated his guttural words.

  “Are you the medic?” She knew he couldn’t answer. What else could he be? A turncoat gargoyle working for the Rose Syndicate? No, he had to be a medic from the Khargal ship.

  Tas arrived, landing next to her in a flurry of wings and kisses. “Juniper! Are you well?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Where’s Chloe?”

  “She is safe. I left her with a friend.” He inspected her, lightly touching the spot where she banged her head in the SUV. “What did they do to you?”

  The medic said something with a smirk. Tas growled a reply and the medic paled.

  “It’s just a bump—and what did he say?” Juniper asked, realizing at the moment she would have to learn an alien language full of sounds that she didn’t think a human could make.

  Tas continued to stroke her hair as if to calm himself. “He jests that I am slow in my advanced age and my Hondassa would be better served with a younger warrior.”

  Juniper tossed a sharp look to the medic. “Not. Interested.”

  “Good, because he would be short several horns and not so pretty.”

  The medic let loose a good-natured chuckle and pressed a syringe to Rhoda’s neck.

  “What’s he giving her?”

  “It is for pain,” Tas said.

  “Will that work on a human?”

  He raised one shoulder. “Who knows if Khargal medicine will work on a human? If we do nothing, she will die. If the drug works, it will ease her pain.”

  “Or it could kill her,” Juniper added.

  Tas turned his gaze to hers, the silver burst in his amethyst eyes more prominent and giving him a cold expression. “And?”

  “Fine. Point taken.” This was his enemy. He didn’t care if Rhoda lived or died, but Juniper cared, and that was the only reason Tas brought the medic.

  The medic produced another canister, applying it to the wound in Rhoda’s stomach. It sprayed a yellow foam that expanded and coated over the wound.

  “It expands and seals a wound, stopping bleeding, and allows a patient to be moved. I have used it myself, long ago,” Tas explained.

  The medic stood, lifting Rhoda in his arms. A strange expression crossed his face as he regarded the woman in his arms, then he nodded at Tas and leaped up into the sky.

  “How difficult is your languag
e to learn?” she asked.

  “Very.”

  Fantastic. She would spend the rest of her life stumbling through an alien language.

  She must have pulled a face because Tas shook his head with a chuckle. “You will receive a translator implant on the ship. Dozens of alien species live on Duras. No one is expected to speak dozens of languages. We use the translators.”

  “You have one?”

  “Yes.” He folded his ear forward and tapped a spot. “It is implanted there. Very painless. Now, it is time,” Tas said, rising to his feet. He scooped Juniper up in one motion and then they flew.

  As far as a last day on Earth went, she couldn’t think of a better way to go than in the arms of the man she loved.

  23

  Juniper

  A warm tingle passed through her like a wave, followed by nausea. Juniper fell to her knees, using one arm to brace herself against the floor while she heaved.

  “The last female he brought did not become nauseous,” a voice said in English.

  “It will pass,” Tas said, rubbing her back.

  “Was that the teleport?” she asked.

  “Yes.” More rubbing in sympathy.

  “Let’s not do that again. It sucked.” Someone passed her a bottle of water. Grateful, she rinsed out her mouth. Stomach empty and calm, she rose to her feet.

  Two Khargals watched her. “We are here to escort you to your chambers,” one said.

  “Take us to medical first,” Tas said, one arm already around her shoulders protectively.

  “The captain instructed—”

  “My mate has a head injury. Medical. Now,” Tas growled. The males paled and nodded.

  The ship seemed to be composed of flowing, curved walls and honeycomb pillars, all constructed from a pale material, creating an overall open and airy effect. The scale of everything, of doors and the wide corridors, that subtly told her nothing was made for humans and reminded her that she was truly on an alien spacecraft.

  “How come I could understand them?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Their translators must have been updated with English,” Tas answered.

  Their escorts stopped outside a wide double door. “We will wait for you here.”

  Inside, the medical bay sprawled in a wide space, the honeycomb pillars dividing off sections, and the entire area had a warm, soothing light. Juniper was ushered to a padded table and a female Khargal waved a device over her body, then pricked her finger for a drop of blood.

  Juniper tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. She never thought much about what she expected a female Khargal to look like. The medic was shorter in stature than Tas, more slender than the other males, but more muscular than a human woman. She had hips and breasts and her face held a softness that spoke of femininity.

  “I’m pleased all this blood is not yours,” the medic said.

  Juniper cast a guilty glance down at her jeans, stiff with dried blood.

  “Now don’t move for this part,” the medic said with a gentle smile that made Juniper want to trust her.

  The sharp pinch made her yelp. “Hey!” She rubbed the sore spot.

  “You might have a slight headache while the translator installs, but it will be fully operational in less than an hour,” the medic said. “No head trauma either and no pregnancy.” The medic turned away to fetch another device.

  Juniper did not miss the dark, disappointed expression that passed over Tas’ face. “I’m sorry,” she said, wishing her lie hadn’t caused him so much pain but knowing that lie saved Chloe’s life.

  “Do not apologize,” he said.

  “But you thought…”

  He stroked her hair, tangling his fingers in the strands. “You inspired me to fight harder. You spoke to buy time for your sister. I am proud of you, my clever pebble. And one day soon, we will have a youngling.”

  “Many.”

  “Enough to fill a roost,” he agreed.

  “How many is that? Because my vag already hurts thinking about it.”

  Tas opened his mouth to reply, but the medic returned. “Interesting results. Did you give the human female your dassa, and if yes, how often?”

  Juniper blushed. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Juniper is my Hondassa,” Tas said, as if that answered the question.

  The medic consulted a handheld device. “Well, your Hondassa’s genome has altered slightly. I wouldn’t be surprised if it continues to alter with repeated exposure.”

  Juniper looked from the medic to Tas and back again. Tas had explained way-back-when that his mating fluid could change her. That seemed so long ago. “What does that mean?”

  “Dassa in a Khargal female helps prepare our bodies for childbirth. It keeps us healthy and strong. I suspect that in your species, it will increase your rate of healing and possibly extend your lifespan,” the medic said.

  Tas’ hand tightened on her shoulder. “Do you know this for certain or is this speculation?”

  “It is the pattern with other Khargal-alien matings.”

  Tas issued a happy, warbly croon. He never expressed concern about their age difference—he was over a thousand years old and she was twenty-six, for crying out loud—but clearly, it had worried him.

  “What about the other human female?” he asked.

  “Seriously injured. The attending medic put her in a coma until she stabilizes.”

  “Will Rhoda survive?” Juniper asked. She had the woman’s blood on her; she needed to know.

  “I cannot say.” The medic stepped back and flashed a fang-filled smile. “I’ll give you a clean bill of health. I recommend a full panel of vaccines to protect you against our more common viruses, when we know more about humans.”

  Juniper nodded. She didn’t want to get the space pox. “Am I safe without it?”

  “For the time being, your dassa exposure will keep you healthy. Now, perhaps your mate would take you to your cabin to make use of the bathing facilities?”

  A shower sounded amazing.

  The two soldiers escorted them to Tas’ assigned cabin. The door slid open to reveal a spacious, comfortable room. Juniper couldn’t help but notice it was empty.

  “Chloe has been assigned her own cabin,” Tas said, preemptively answering her question. “Shower. I will find a change of clothes for you.”

  “And yourself?” The scandalized looks the crew gave Tas did not go unnoticed by her. He leaped into action that morning without pausing to put on shoes or a shirt, not that he could wear a human-designed shirt with his wings. The Khargal crew wore a clean-lined uniform.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because I suspect that I’m going to like the look of you in uniform,” she said.

  He led her into a smaller room and demonstrated how to use the shower. Warm water fell from the ceiling like rain, she was pleased to discover, half expecting a shower with sonic waves or enzymes.

  “Are you tired?” She stripped off her filthy sweater and jeans, recognizing there was no saving the garment.

  “I will fall into a deep stone sleep but not yet.” He ran his hand over her head and down her ponytail, tugging on the strands. “There is still strength in this old warrior. Now, get in the cleansing unit. I will wash you.”

  Built for a Khargal warrior, the stall was more than large enough to accommodate her and a gargoyle. He picked up a bottle, added some gel to his hand, and washed her hair. A pleasing, woodsy scent filled the room. The water sluiced away the dirt and blood of the day. Her shoulders unknotted and the tightly wound feeling she’d been carrying for days vanished in the steam.

  Once satisfied with her hair, Tas soaped up her back and front, carefully covering every part of her. He knelt and picked up her foot, kneading the muscles in the sole. By the time he finished, she was boneless—and really turned on. They hadn’t a moment alone with each other in days, not since Chloe loudly announced she’d rather sleep in the car than listen to them kiss.

&nb
sp; That killed the mood for her. Even if they’d gotten separate hotel rooms, Juniper just couldn’t get past the fact that her sister slept on the other side of the wall—knowing that Juniper and Tas were having sex. It was weird and tangled in her head, but now she had her sexy alien kneeling at her feet, watching her with half-closed eyes, and all those complications left her.

  He growled, that low rumble that made her toes curl with anticipation. No doubt he could smell her arousal.

  “You know, we’ve never had shower sex,” she said.

  He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, stopping when he reached her pussy and cupping it possessively. “Earth showers were too small.”

  A bell chimed. She sighed, cockblocked again. “Is that the captain?”

  “Probably.” His fingers brushed through her damp curls before parting her folds.

  “Should we answer the door?”

  “I’ve waited a thousand years. He can wait an hour or two.”

  Epilogue

  Tas

  Three Years Later

  The wind swept away the last of the clouds, leaving behind a brilliant violet sky. Winter still held the mountain in its grip, but Tas did not feel the cold, nor did the youngling in his arms.

  Keisel grabbed Tas’ ear and pulled himself over his father’s shoulder, determined to get to his wings. Tas waved his tail, catching the youngling’s attention.

  “Are you sure about this?” His Hondassa wore a thick wrap trimmed with soft white fur. She still felt the cold but not as keenly as she would without the benefit of his dassa. Her hair caught in the breeze, the ends stained a berry blush that matched the rising pink in her cheeks.

  Keisel grabbed his father’s tail, clutching it tightly in his grip. Happily, he shoved the tail tip and his fist into his mouth, slobbering over everything.

  Tas did not mind the discomfort. He had dreamed about this moment, presenting his child to the skies for his first flight, that he would endure Keisel’s milk teeth chewing on his tail.

  “We’ve been too long without flying,” Tas said. He had impatiently waited during the long winter’s unrelenting storms for a clear day. “My son and I need to stretch our wings.”