Rescued by an Alien: Alien Mate Romance (Stolen by an Alien Book 2)

by Amanda Milo

  His tail lands closer. “I would ask you to come here but… my instinct tells me you would not find comfort if I hold you?”

  It’s clear he wants me to deny, to tell him his instinct is wrong, when in fact it is quite right.

  But part of me almost wants to jump up and curl onto his lap - which is crazy, but just the idea of his arms seems safe, solacing-

  Absently, he reaches across himself and plucks what looks like a bent scale right off of his body. He weaves it through his fingers like a guitar pick, turning it end over end.

  This dead scale doesn’t hold the natural gleam that shows on the rest of his scales so it appears dull and flat.

  That dullness reminds me of them.

  Flashback.

  The feeling of their scales under my fingernails, trying to claw their grip off of me-

  I shake my head hard to clear it.

  His lips press flat - not in disappointment, but sadness. “It is alright. Too soon.”

  Too soon? Try never.

  After a moment, he returns to talking and I fall asleep to the lulling sound of his voice.

  And I wake up to my own screaming.

  This time, he pulls two chains from the wall.

  Chapter 6

  CALLIE

  The heavy manacle looks like it should weigh down his wrist, no matter how big and thick the joint is.

  It doesn’t.

  And with a couple of pounds of metal dressing it up, it somehow makes his arm look even more huge and powerful.

  My voice is weak when I tease, "Now you're just collecting jewelry.”

  He spares a glance down before trying to catch my eyes again. He twists his wrist, as if he’s displaying a charm bracelet for me, not a thick hunk of metal. His movement makes the cuff clank dully. “So I am. Am I pretty?”

  Ha. He is sort of pr-

  His pupils turn to slits as he focuses on me.

  Ice water - it feels like ice water is trickling down my spine. I convulsively attempt to swallow, suddenly incapable of forming words.

  He clears his throat. “You can try sleeping again. It will be a little while longer before we land. You never took another mate?”

  That gets my eyes back on his. “Your segue skills could use work.”

  ‘Another’ mate? What is he even asking?

  I chalk it up to an alien-communication-device misunderstanding.

  His middle toe taps the floor twice. “Circling around an issue is a waste of time. I say what I mean.”

  I believe that about him.

  I just don’t know what he means.

  Of course he has no idea - how can he? - but asking me about my relationship status only serves to remind me of the cold, crippling reality.

  Even if he could point this ship to earth right now; I’m alone. There is no one that is missing me desperately right now.

  Not anymore.

  Lying on my side, I fold my arms over my head to enclose myself in the darkest, most suffocating embrace I can self-manage. Therefore, my “No,” comes out muffled, as does, “I don’t have anyone left. They’re all gone. I’m alone.”

  Simply - so simply at first I’m afraid I’ve misunderstood, he says, “You are not alone. I will take you home.”

  Home.

  He is taking me home.

  This will all be over soon.

  Chapter 7

  CALLIE

  This isn’t home. I stare sightlessly as women laugh, and eat like they are at a party and this is all a new, happy normal.

  What. The. Fuck. This is insane.

  The alien had tried to reassure me as he placed me on the bed he’d made for me at this get-together for humans. It’s like a mini throne of softness. He even parked us under a tent for shade. Vaguely, I notice we are one of the few that has this luxury - others seem to be keeping their distance, and baking a little under the… suns. Yes. Plural.

  His tail does manage to get my attention when it strokes the same pillow my head is resting on. “Why won’t you speak to me?” he asks. So direct.

  My voice is dead and flat and also direct. “This isn’t home.”

  “I said I would take you home, and I will,” he assured. “You will like our home. I will-”

  I feel a spark flare in my chest. “I thought you meant to MY home!”

  He looks like the possibility barely crossed his mind. “You said you have no one left there. Now you have me. We are together,” he puts an alarming amount of emphasis on this. “This is your home now.”

  I thought he was nice.

  I’d been wrong.

  He is crazy.

  What can I do?

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing is in my control.

  I retreat into myself.

  He tries to talk to me but I can’t muster up the interest to answer him.

  Every so often, he darts a quick look over at me, like he’s worried - but he’s also got my safety to worry about since he’s so kindly self-appointed himself duty as my guard. And he keeps watch (more like glare) so that nobody gets too close.

  His tail says he’s really worried.

  But me?

  I just stare.

  I try to block him, and the laughing women, and the other aliens all out, and I try very hard not to think of anything at all.

  ◆◆◆

  ZADEON

  I will kill them.

  If their males don’t collect them, I will kill them.

  I saw them, of course, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Then I saw my female crying.

  My tail goes through the side of the tent - and I see the spray from my quill fringe. How interesting; I do produce toxin even when I’m this close to her.

  But it won’t hurt her. The same instinct I rely so heavily on to get me through a match, to know an opponent’s moves before he makes them, to know the best places to land my strikes - it is with that clarity that I recognize my that my body - not even this part of my body - will bring her harm.

  It cannot hurt her.

  But I will hurt them.

  “Leave,” I snarl, but I dare them with my eyes to stay.

  I wonder if it would please my mate to see them bleed.

  I hold my breath a moment, considering.

  They run.

  “I am going to pick you up,” I warn her, because after what was done to her, I think she will need a warning for some time.

  But she will heal.

  She is strong, my female. I am reminded of it every time I see the scars on her face.

  They are her warpaint. ‘I have been through battle, and stood on the other side.’

  She has survived so much. She may not see it now, but she will survive this too.

  And she won’t be alone in her darkness. I am here for her now.

  My soul thrums for her. It started the first time I held her. And as I hold her now, I don’t mean to do it; I end up being more exuberant than I intend to be - she just feels so right in my arms.

  I hug her to me. Speak gently to her.

  I may be squeezing her too hard; she animates, her hands slapping down over my forearms.

  Her entire frame goes stiff when her skin touches mine.

  She whips her hands off, quickly planting them on the fabric of my suit instead.

  But it’s too late; I smell it.

  Fear.

  She’s afraid to touch me.

  Not my suit. No, she’s not afraid to touch what the suit represents; a male. Any male.

  Nooo… it’s… Me. My skin repels her.

  The first time I was struck with a triple ball spiked Morning Star Mace, I thought there was nothing that could rival that pain. To this day, I have to bite back a flinch every time I see an opponent bring one into the ring. I’ve always thought that the anticipation of those makers of agony making contact is the most brutal.

  But I was wrong.

  The worst blows are the ones you never see coming.

 
; My mate doesn’t simply fear touch.

  The other half of my soul fears the touch of my very skin.

  Chapter 8

  CALLIE

  Something about the alien has changed. He is talking to me, but his voice has lost its caressing quality - that soothing, calming, addictive something that I crave.

  That I recognize.

  I feel this awful unraveling in my chest. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He looks so surprised that I’ve finally responded. Distantly, I feel a part of myself become disgusted with me. More disgusted of me.

  He doesn’t get the chance to answer.

  His head whips around - and I look to see where he’s looking, and watch the sky… go… dark.

  At first I think it’s thunder.

  But when Zadeon snags me up and reaches the edge of the tent, I can see that the sound is coming from all the stampeding feet.

  Everyone is running.

  Everyone is running away.

  Why is everyone-

  Everything happens so fast.

  Winged men appear. I cling to Zadeon like a baby koala but they pile on him, pry me off of him - I don’t really know what happens after that.

  I hear screams. Some are mine. Most are theirs.

  Then they are Zadeon’s.

  They kill him.

  They beat him, and electrocute him, and kill him.

  There are so many of them…

  As their hands reach for me, I chant to myself, “I don’t want to live through this. I can’t. I won’t-”

  ◆◆◆

  “You’re okay, you’re okay, they didn’t hurt you, you’re okay,” I gasp, trying to soothe myself.

  I am rocking back and forth, trying not to hear them.

  They are too loud to ignore.

  I’m on a ship, rounded up with other women - most of them looking as shellshocked as I feel. They are mostly quiet, just looking scared.

  But two of the aliens are jabbering away.

  When they say Zadeon’s name though, I stop moving.

  I stop breathing.

  My heart starts pounding. It’s like it recognizes his name, recognizes that he belongs to me.

  Which is ridiculous. He isn’t mine.

  But all the same, I feel a shift. My focus expands. And now I eavesdrop on purpose.

  “I've seen him fight,” one is saying excitedly. “I even have a card that he punched!”

  “I have three,” the other guy says smugly. Hobs. The aliens with wings are called hobs.

  And then they both proceed to pull out trading cards. Trading cards with… I crane my neck at an unhealthy angle and see Zadeon’s picture.

  He looks meaner, even bigger, and angrier on the cards than he does in real life… except for the very first time I saw him. When he saved me.

  I didn’t know him then.

  He’s so much kinder than the artists depicted him.

  Some of their cards have a hole punched into the corner and they start pointing to them.

  “See that there?”

  “Wait, that’s miniscule! Was he-”

  “His fifth fight!” the hob gushes. “He could barely punch his signature, his horn tips were so dull and small.”

  Clearly in awe, the other breathes, “Do you know how much that’s worth?”

  “Worth way more now than it was back then!” He laughs.

  The other one laughs.

  My stomach heaves.

  They just killed him and they are fangirling about the size of his horns!

  I’m going to be sick.

  ◆◆◆

  It’s in the middle of trying not to retch that I meet Gracie.

  “Hey.” She chucks what looks a little like an empty juice box into a waste receptacle near their seats. “You two want to shut the fuck up?”

  She glares at them like she wants to snap their necks for being born stupid.

  Nice girl.

  I also meet Angie.

  “Hey! Holy crap, stop! You don’t need to hurt yourself,” she scolds me.

  I hadn’t even realized I was doing it; I had dug trenches into my arms. I stare down at them hollowly.

  It isn’t until Dohrein; a nice… erm, a well-meaning hob, if not a nice one - assures me that Zadeon has only been stunned unconscious, that I start to emerge from the despairing, terror-filled fog I’m trapped in. Then Dohrein goes on to inform me that Zadeon is most likely not dead...

  Because his rulers will want to put him on trial before they execute him.

  Chapter 9

  CALLIE

  Over the night, I learn that there was a breach in protocol with one of the incoming ships not acquiring the passcode they needed for the gathering - it triggered the hobs coming to check things out.

  They would have just detained us, sorted out the misunderstanding (although I’m not sure what the punishment would’ve been for holding a gathering without permission) but the punishment is definitely severe when you kill their border police force.

  It doesn’t matter that Zadeon only killed them because they were scaring me.

  He’s going to trial.

  But it will be okay. They’ll sort it out. Dohrein’s got a plan.

  It’s going to be fine.

  I drag my hand over my aching, aching chest.

  ◆◆◆

  It’s morning now, and Dohrein leads us into a giant colosseum. It’s crowded and the atmosphere is a mix between a trial and a football game. He finds us seats, gets us settled, takes my wristwatch - yes, I still have one of those.

  Had.

  He’s a little abrupt. Not rude exactly - just a rough, “I need this,” as he - making as little physical contact as possible - goes for the clasp and mugs me.

  And then he leaves us so that he can carry out the rescue mission.

  Hopefully.

  I’m sure we look like orphaned baby ducks; all huddled and wrecked looking.

  Down below, they are prepping for the first trial.

  The sound of an axe grinding wears down my nerves until they’re oversensitive, screaming nubs.

  Guards have to subdue Angie. She is determined to get to her alien, Arokh.

  Zadeon’s brother, she’d informed me. I’d been busy wallowing in my own headspace yesterday but even I had vaguely been aware of the whitish shiny alien and Angie. He’d been so attentive to her. Protective.

  Not as attentive and protective as Zadeon had been of me.

  I barely know Zadeon. But somehow… seeing his brother down there, chained to a rock for everyone to see, this giant ugly mask over his face like he’s a danger and trussed up in shackles that could probably hold an elephant…

  Zadeon is going to be next.

  I feel it like a kick to my gut. And as of less than forty-eight hours ago, I’d been receiving one there on a regular basis, so I feel like I’ve got the authority to diagnose the severity of the sensation.

  Gut-kicking bad. Yes. That was now in my ‘catalogue of emotional levels’ repertoire.

  Angie looks like she’s sharing the same feeling but ten times worse.

  But she doesn’t call to him.

  None of us do. Because if we try- if she tries; he’ll struggle.

  And his neck is on the block.

  Literally.

  I try to quell the panic bubbling up inside me.

  I’m fine.

  It’s fine.

  This will all be fine.

  Zadeon’s going to be rescued.

  I see the ax glint in the light from the suns rising, and the executioner shakes his head with a regretful sort of air.

  Like this is a done deal.

  Wait. Why sharpen the axe before they determine he’s even guilty?

  Is that like a… precautionary thing?

  Or… anticipatory?

  Predictory.

  No mercy... They are going to kill him.

  Dohrein isn’t going to get to him in time.

  They are going to kill Zadeon’s broth
er.

  And then they are going to kill Zadeon.

  Chapter 10

  ZADEON

  I lunge again.

  “Give up!” the Aneark calls wearily. Electricity sparks uselessly from his palms. “There’s no point in doing this to yourself.”

  Another lunge. I feel a muscle pull in my shoulder. TEVEK!

  “Rotk Kotok Zadeon?”

  I’ve been so deeply conditioned over the years to respond to fans, that being addressed by my title actually clears a little of the mad-frothing need to escape.

  “Zadeon, I need you to listen to me very closely. This is about Arokh.”

  I turn but don’t account for the distance my face mask’s lock sticks out and it connects with the stone wall. Crack. I grit my teeth and snarl.

  Behind me, standing just out of reach, is a hob.

  And…

  I inhale.

  He smells like-

  “She is fine,” he assures me. “You could say she sent me. Here.”

  He tosses a trinket to me and I bring the strange, elegant leather strap to my nose, and inhale the salty scent of her wrist.

  I feel my muscles swell.

  The collar locked around my neck vibrates heavily with my growl and this irritates me even further.

  The hob sighs impatiently. “The sooner you can assure me you won’t decorate my body with my own pulverized insides, the sooner I can use this,” he shakes a ring of keys, “to set you free, and then you can save your brother, and claim your… bonded.”

  I flinch at the word.

  But it is the truth.

  And this male, this hob that smells like my female - he is my best chance.

  I swallow down half my fury.

  A quarter of it, anyway.

  More like a sixteenth.

  I bare my fangs. “Be. Quick.”

  ◆◆◆

  CALLIE

  I’d spent the majority of the night getting gawked at by the aliens called hobs right along with the other women. They weren’t all like Dohrein.