Alien Captured

by Marie Dry

  When she returned, she bent to pat the rat’s head, but she looked guilty.

  “What have you done, my breeder?”

  “Nothing. I just watered the fields.”

  All the human women complained about being called that. The fact that Susannah didn’t even react to that meant she’d been up to something while she was outside. He didn’t see any weapons on her. He’d have to watch her more closely. She’d washed. She smelled fresh and didn’t look so scared anymore. Outside, the sun was sinking. He looked around at the rotting wooden floor and curled his lip at it. “Bring your blanket here, you will sleep with me.”

  She trembled again, and he didn’t know how to reassure her. The other warriors had told him how their breeders kissed them and argued with them. They’d never said anything about their breeders shaking with fear all the time.

  He could hear her drag her feet to the other room and again when she came back to him.

  He folded the blanket so that she was cushioned from the rough floor and pulled her onto it and into his arms. “Say my name, my breeder.”

  “Azagor,” she said, and he could hear tears in her voice.

  Chapter 8

  Susannah lay absolutely still, hoping the alien would fall asleep and forget about her. His body was warm against her and the arm she slept in almost comfortable. She feared him, but, still, she liked his smell. He puzzled her. On the one hand, he was vicious, and she didn’t doubt he’d kill her dog if she defied him. Her breath hitched. He’d better never find out that she’d put the drawing she made of him where the resistance would find it.

  “Why did your humans leave you behind?”

  Humiliation cut into her, the way Brother Josephatus’s whip cut through flesh. Why did he keep asking her that? “I’m different. The brothers do not tolerate anyone who is different.” She was surprised she’d been allowed to stay this long.

  “You are like other humans. Why do they think you are different? Is it because you don’t understand about monitoring TCs. I can teach you.”

  She laughed, a small bitter laugh. “They don’t allow any technology on the farms. No, they think me different because of my eyes and my skin.” She was darker than most of the other women, and her up-tilted eyes seemed to be unacceptable. Her mother had told her that it was because her grandmother came from Japan. That her long black hair was a legacy she should be proud of. She’d loved the stories her mother used to tell her about Japan. But then one of the cousins had said her hair looked like a witch’s hair, and things had never been the same again.

  He stroked his huge fingers over her head, much the way she did to Killer. Did he want to soothe her, or did he see her as some kind of animal. A breeder. “I want to sleep now.” She held her breath, afraid he’d demand intimacies from her.

  “Go to sleep,” he said.

  She fell asleep with his finger still stroking her head. It was strange to feel so safe was her last thought before she fell asleep, reassured that she wasn’t falling asleep alone in the big empty house.

  She woke with her bed shaking. Susannah blinked and sat up. Azagor’s body jerked, and sweat ran down his body. His eyes gleamed red in the dark room. “The fever has come. You will sponge me down, human.”

  Killer lay with his head on his paws, his intelligent little eyes taking in everything.

  Nodding, she lit one of the candles she’d managed to hide when the others packed up and ran to get some water. She didn’t want him to die. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she should’ve put the drawing she’d made of him where the resistance could find it. Maybe they wouldn’t come to check the rock she’d put it under.

  Carrying the large pitcher and bowl filled with water, she returned to the bedroom. Only years of controlling her reactions stopped her from dropping the pitcher and bowl on the rotting floor.

  He stood shivering but stepped out of his boots in a very strange way. He just stepped out of them. Not untying them or opening them.

  “Do that again,” she said.

  He stared at her and then stepped into the boots that magically folded around his feet and then stepped out of them, the boots letting go of his feet. The same happened with his clothes and, for a moment, she wanted to run from such strangeness. Then he was naked. Stark naked, his body gleaming copper in the warm candle light. He sat up against the wall, one leg drawn up. Susannah tried very hard not to stare at his mid-section, but she had to admit to being curious.

  Killer narrowed his eyes on Azagor. He crawled forward on his belly and then jumped at Azagor’s privates. Azagor cupped himself protectively, and Susannah threw the water down and ran to save her dog.

  “Don’t hurt him, please.”

  The look Azagor gave Killer didn’t bode well for either of them. It would’ve been funny if she didn’t have Killer in her arms. This was it, her chance to escape.

  Keeping Killer in her arms, she picked up the basin. “I’ll go and get more water.” Her heartbeat sped up, but she tried to act casually when she turned to walk to the door.

  “Give him to me,” Azagor said.

  Susannah measured the steps to the door. If she could get outside, she’d hide, and he’d never find them.

  “You won’t make it, and if I have to chase you with the fever, I will kill your rat when I catch you.”

  She handed Killer over. “If you hurt him in any way, I won’t do anything you tell me to. You have no idea how difficult I can be.”

  “I am warned, my breeder.” He held Killer far away from his lap.

  When she got back to the room, he sat relaxed against the wall, as if nothing had happened. One knee pushed up with his arm resting on it.

  She would burn in hell for thinking it, but he was beautiful. A pagan sacrifice with long muscled limbs. She’d never openly looked at Caine’s privates, but she couldn’t miss what was right in front of her eyes. She quickly looked away, but that one glance had been enough to confirm that he had no body hair. Anywhere. She’d thought Caine felt uncomfortable big, but Azagor would render her in two if he insisted on relations with her.

  He tracked every step she took toward him, looking dangerous, like the lions she’d seen on the TC. Killer lifted his head and watched them sleepily and then put his chin down on his paws again.

  She felt clumsy under that hot gaze, her hands shaking so much the water spilled out of the basin she used for washing. She put it down on the floor, knelt next to him, and dipped the cloth in the water. He towered over her even sitting down.

  “Should--” She cleared her throat. It was difficult being so close to him and not look anywhere but his face. Taking a deep, deep breath, she lifted her trembling hand to brush the cloth over his brow. A drop ran down his forehead and over his eye, and he didn’t even blink. Didn’t take his gaze off her. “Should I sponge down your horn?”

  He thumped his head against the wall, dislodging her hand from his forehead. Susannah scampered back. “It’s a ridge, a bone that protects my brain and, yes, you can sponge it as well.”

  He could call it what he wanted, it looked like a horn to her. Wisely, she kept that thought to herself and dipped the cloth in the water again. Reaching up, she carefully followed the contour of his ridge, horn whatever. His skin was so hot, he warmed her hand through the cold cloth.

  “You’re burning up.”

  “You will bring the fever down,” he said.

  Susannah dipped the cloth again and carefully stroked over his bald head. “How come you have no hair?”

  He had sharp cheekbones, the kind she always secretly wished she’d had instead of round cheeks. And his eyelids had no lashes, but there was a thin dark line on the edge of his eyelids.

  “No one on my planet has hair.”

  An image of people walking around on a strange planet, their heads shining in the sun popped into her head. It was hard to believe that there was another place like earth where strange beings lived like humans. She smoothed over his cheek, his pronounced jaw, and down to his muscle
d throat. She’d never thought a throat had muscles. He’d threatened her dog and destroyed her hope of making money through selling him to the resistance, but he fascinated her. The opportunity to find out what he felt like was too good to pass. Careful to make it look as if it was by accident, she allowed her fingers to touch his skin and slide down his throat. His skin was warm and firm, and a thrill went through her at the forbidden pleasure of touching him.

  She frowned down at his chest. The fluid that came out of his body wasn’t sweat, now that she looked closely. It was denser and stickier than sweat. She had to put the cloth back in the water and wring it out several times and then carefully wipe his chest before it stopped seeping out of his skin.

  “Does it hurt, when this comes out of your skin?”

  She had the impression he wanted to thump his head against the wall again. “I’m a warrior.” He seemed expectant, as if she should react to that somehow.

  “Warriors don’t feel pain?”

  “We can endure any pain with courage and honor. We also do not require blankets or soft beds.” He cocked his head in that way he had. “I am a modern warrior and will sleep on a soft bed to please you.”

  Susannah moved on to his stomach swallowing at how intimate this was. “I’ve never slept on a soft bed, so I don’t know if I’ll like it.” And she’d escape him long before she found out.

  She washed the muscled shoulder closest to her. Never had she seen a body this densely muscled. Caine had been good looking, but when she touched him, his skin had been soft.

  This alien, this warrior had such tough skin, she didn’t think she’d be able to hurt him even with a knife. And she didn’t want to cut him anyway. An idea kept popping into her head and, as soon as she could think again, when her hands stopped shaking, and she could breathe in more than short pants, she might follow through on it.

  Her mind that had been hazed with pleasure at touching him cleared a bit when she rinsed out the cloth again. His skin was beautiful, and she’d never admit it to him, but she loved touching him. But she’d expected him to have signs of battle on his body. “If you’re a warrior, why don’t you have scars like the space ranger?”

  Something rumbled out of Azagor’s chest. He caught her the moment before she could jump up and away from him. He drew her against his chest. Those eyes had no black in them, red glowed down at her. “I am a warrior with superior DNA. I keep no scars like weak human males.”

  “O--okay.”

  “I have been in many battles.”

  “Okay.”

  “I am considered among the best warriors in the Zyrgin Empire.”

  She wet her lips and tried to speak but couldn’t. She nodded.

  “I took a raider camp on my own to honor you without keeping scars on my body.”

  She nodded again. Found her courage. She’d promised herself she’d find Noah, and never again would she have to guard her words. Worry about what anyone would do to her for speaking out. She might not be brave and clever, but she’d endured the worst punishments on the farm and survived. “I have scars.” The words spilled past her lips.

  He became still, not the way she stilled when she didn’t want Joseph to notice her, but the way a snake remained still before it struck. “What kind of scars.”

  Susannah shivered. A sense of danger came off him in waves. It frightened her more than Joseph standing over her with a whip. “It’s not important.” Never again was she blurting out anything around him.

  “Show me.”

  She jerked out of his arms, or tried to. He held her tight against him. “I will not.”

  “Open your dress and show me these scars, or I will rip the dress off you and look for myself.”

  Glaring at him, she unbuttoned her dress. She only had two, and this one was in better shape. She couldn’t afford to let him rip it to pieces. Holding it closed over her breasts, she twisted to show him her back. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” She couldn’t keep the tears that wanted to fall out of her voice.

  He was quiet, and not a good quiet. She jerked when he stroked her, following the criss-crossed scars on her back.

  “I know it’s ugly, but I don’t care.” That wasn’t true. She didn’t want him to think her ugly. Even knowing that nothing but finding Noah was important, she hated for him to see her scars when he was so proud of his unblemished skin.

  She jerked again when his lips pressed against her shoulder blade where a large welt lay over her skin. “You are beautiful to me. I will find the woumber who did this and cover his body with scars.”

  Woumber? “Revenge is not for humans to contemplate.”

  “I am not human, and it will be justice. No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

  She moved away from him and, to her surprise, he let her go, holding her with his hands on her hips until she found her balance. Keeping her back to him, she clumsily pulled her dress over her shoulders and buttoned it closed with trembling fingers.

  “Our doctor can take away your scars,” he said while she fussed with her dress and checked that her braid still held.

  She stilled in the process of putting her head cloth back on. Hurt pierced her. “You want me to not be ugly anymore?”

  “No, I want you with scars or without scars.”

  “If that is true, why do you want this doctor to fix my skin?” As if she’d ever trust an outsider to heal her.

  “I chose you for my breeder and, to me, you will always be beautiful. I offered our doctor’s help because you do not want to have scars.”

  She shrugged. “I got used to having them.” To get him off the subject, she touched his forehead. “You are burning up, I should wash you down some more,” she said quietly.

  He nodded and sat back against the wall again. “You may proceed.”

  His sheer arrogance amazed her. “Comfortable?” she asked and smiled down at him.

  He nodded and bared his teeth at her, presumably smiling. Moving fast, she grabbed the basin and threw the cold water over his head. She pushed against his chest as she jumped up, and his head made a satisfying crack against the wall. “That’s for scaring me and manhandling me and making me take off my clothes,” she screamed and, grabbing a madly barking Killer, she ran for the third bedroom that had a lock on it. Remembering how he’d broken through the trap door, Susannah stepped back from the door. Maybe that had not been such a good idea. She ran to the back door. She had to get outside.

  ***

  Azagor got up and shook off the water. When he told this to the other warriors, he’d tell them she threw water over him while he was stalking her. That she was too brave to be scared of him. He followed her outside to the sounds of her softly talking. She obviously thought his hearing as bad as hers and that he wouldn’t find her hiding place. He cocked his head.

  “I can’t believe he did that, Killer. He’s a stranger, and he expected me to just take off my dress. Just because he doesn’t mind going around naked like a heathen, it doesn’t mean I do,” she whispered to the rat. She was crouched next to the barn under a piece of rotting wood.

  The rat barked softly, obviously trying to ingratiate himself to remain first in her affections. Humiliation burned in Azagor’s gut. Competing for the affections of your breeder with a rat wasn’t worthy of a warrior.

  “Shhhh, don’t bark.”

  Azagor was about to order her to come and continue to wash him down. Now he waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “I know where you are hiding, come out.”

  Susannah stood, holding her pet rat, enormous eyes staring at him over its small head.

  “Come back to our room and finish sponging me down.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  In spite of her brave words, she shook with nerves.

  He smiled to reassure her and could’ve stabbed himself with his own sword. She stumbled back from him. They couldn’t figure out why, but the humans never responded well when a Zyrgin smiled.

  “I will take your rat w
ith me. He prefers my company.”

  She glared at him but followed him when he returned to their temporary bedroom. If he thought she’d make the transition to their way of life easily, he’d have taken her to his dwelling now. She was a breeder worthy of a warrior like him.

  “I’m going to get some more water,” she said, and she sounded like Alissa when Natalie told her to do her studies.

  She muttered to herself the whole time, and he enjoyed the inventive things she threatened him with, thinking he couldn’t hear her. She kept saying incomprehensible things about brave frogs.

  Azagor stepped out of his uniform again and lay down naked on the floor. All warriors were trained to put on their uniforms and boots within seconds. When he found the humans who left her behind with nothing and everyone that punished her, they would pay. Soon she would trust him and tell him why she was so desperate for money that she would try and capture a Zyrgin warrior. She had sadness and desperation in her eyes, and he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him her problems.

  She walked in, and her eyes widened. Only his excellent reflexes stopped the water from ending up on the floor again. She turned very red and then looked everywhere but at him. He was naked before, and he couldn’t understand why she reacted like that now. The basin landed on the floor with a tinny sound.

  “Your fever is getting worse,” she said and put her hand on his forehead.

  Her hand was cool on his forehead. The discomfort from the fever and the sticky secretion on his skin was worth it just for this moment. “Finish sponging me down.”