by Mel Teshco
The chair fell apart in her hands. The dog didn’t flinch.
Bonnie snapped, twisting and squirming to shake the other dog free. It wasn’t going anywhere.
No time to retrieve the knife in her back pack.
“Get off her!” The cracking, high pitch of her voice sounded like a stranger’s. Half-sobbing, she retrieved a broken chair leg as her new weapon of choice and had raised it high—when the bedroom window shattered.
She jerked around. The piece of chair fell from her grasp.
The alien picked himself up from the floor littered with glass and the block-out blinds he’d taken down with him. Sunlight poured into the room, almost dazzling after the darkness.
In just a few long strides he moved to the fighting dogs. His big hands took hold of the brindle’s snout, top and bottom.
She looked away. The dog yelped. Bones snapped. The sounds of fighting ceased.
She turned back as the alien placed the dead dog on the floor and closed its eyes with an outspread hand. In his native, alien tongue he spoke lyrical words to the dead animal. A eulogy?
Bonnie trotted over to her, whimpering. Ally ran a hand over the dog’s blood-matted coat, checking for injuries and beyond relieved to find none. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, voice breaking.
She glanced up at the alien. Despite the hatred for his kind coursing through her blood, for the moment at least, running from this man—alien—who’d saved Bonnie had become the last thing on her mind.
He straightened, his long body unfolding with the grace of an athlete. She bit her lower lip. Up close he was even more beautiful, and much taller than she’d first thought. At five-eight she was no short piece of ass, but she would easily tuck right under his arm.
Don’t be a fool. He killed your people. He’ll kill you too!
Yet even as hatred for the alien warred with her body’s perverse attraction to him, another malicious voice reminded her of her plainness. Illogical at this point of time, nevertheless it was an insecurity she had come to acknowledge was deeply ingrained. She raked a shaky hand over her short, practical hair, feeling sweaty, dirty and unkempt.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. I had no choice but to destroy the dog.”
He spoke English?
He was sorry?
She jerked out a nod. “I know.” She wasn’t sure if the virus changed the composition of the blood or something, but once a dog tasted human flesh—it was like a human on crack. They became ravenous for more.
She sucked in a steadying breath, using all her willpower to become neutral, assess the situation and gather her thoughts. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
Talking to someone other than Bonnie took on a surreal quality, as if she was speaking through layers and layers of consciousness and hearing the words from a great distance.
His eyes flashed, the possessive need in his stare sapping her willpower, her hatred, and making her burn all over. He lifted an outstretched hand. “My name is Renate Mearwon. And I want you.”
Chapter Two
Ally shook her head at his words, snapping out of her moment of insanity. “You sick, murdering bastard!”
Something shifted behind his eyes. Hurt? Guilt? Shame?
Impossible. He and his alien friends had done nothing to stop the virus sweeping the earth like a giant, biological tsunami.
“I’m not yours,” she croaked, backing away a step. “And whatever voodoo mind control you’re trying to pull on me—stop it now.”
Renate cocked a dark brow, the gesture all too human. “Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your life?”
Her breath hissed at his audacity. Yes, he’d saved her. But his kind had taken away everyone she’d ever known, everyone she could have known. “You don’t deny using some form of mind control?”
“No.”
She closed her eyes for a second, feeling weak. And all too vulnerable. It made too much sense. She’d felt the pull toward him, experienced the emotional transition from horrible dread and fear to unspeakable attraction, a transition that was far and beyond anything normal or rational.
“Just a small influence,” Renate added, voice almost gentle. “I felt your fear. You didn’t need to be further traumatized at the very sight of me.”
“How is it you know English?”
“We had much time to study Earth’s languages on the journey here.”
She sank to the floor, knees no longer able to support her. Shrugging off her backpack, she slung an arm around Bonnie. “It’s like something out of a horror movie,” she whispered starkly.
Thunder rumbled outside, a sudden wind whooshing through the broken window.
Renate looked up, nostrils flaring as though he was scenting the weather. “The storm is close.” His stare rested briefly on the dog he’d killed before swinging back to her. “We can’t stay here.”
We? If the alien thought for one minute she was going to meekly follow him, obey his every command, he was sadly mistaken. The loneliness eating at her from the inside out was far preferable to being some alien’s puppet.
Wasn’t it?
A louder rumble caused Bonnie to whine. Ally stroked the dog’s soft ears, sharing her pain. God, how nice would it be—really—just to talk to someone else. “She hates storms. Hates thunder.” Her eyes narrowed. “But we’re not going anywhere with you. Not going anywhere near your UFO.”
He frowned, as though taken aback by her objections. Did his mind control not work so well on her, then?
“The mother ship will stay above the storm for the night. I was simply going to suggest finding shelter in another earth building.”
Ally rested her chin on Bonnie’s soft head. The half-eaten human skull and the other dog’s prone body wasn’t something she wanted to be sharing a room with for the night—she’d seen more than enough death already. But she had a feeling this alien perceived other ravenous dogs would be attracted to the scent of a fresh kill.
She let out a shaky sigh, hardly able to believe she was agreeing to his suggestion. “Okay. But after the storm, we part ways.”
He nodded. “If that is your wish.”
She frowned. He thinks I’ll change my mind.
Pushing onto her feet, she discovered her still shaky legs were reluctant to support her. She needn’t have worried. In two strides Renate was before her. He swung her backpack on to a broad shoulder then scooped her effortlessly into his arms.
“Bonnie?” she croaked.
Dear lord. Was her dog all that concerned her now?
No. Survival mode had kicked in. She needed the distraction of Bonnie to keep from admitting how good it felt to be in the alien’s arms, how protected and secure. It was undoubtedly another illusion, further mind control to bend her to his will.
She despised aliens, with good reason. So why am I not putting up a struggle? Seemed she was defenseless, after all.
He placed the end of the leash into one of her hands and Bonnie shadowed them as he strode to the door with Ally silent in his arms. He threw open the deadbolts and kicked open the door before he briefly scanned the sky.
Seconds later he strode down the entryway steps, through the gate and across the street. Wind gusted and eddied around them, the dark clouds moving overhead and all but blocking out the mid-afternoon sunlight.
The storm was going to be a doozy. For some reason the thought didn’t frighten her. Oh, hell. She was all but surrendering to Renate’s heat and the safety of his big, strong arms. And he smelled divine, clean and fresh like a tropical breeze mingling with the salty overtones of the ocean.
He picked up pace as he headed toward the corner hardware store. Once there, he placed her carefully on the pavement where it was clear of glass and debris. He shrugged off the backpack and placed it beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, blanking out the play of muscles across his shoulders and back as he tried the steel door’s handle. It didn’t budge.
He frowned a littl
e. “I want to get you inside before the storm hits.”
She struggled to her feet. The ground lurched around her. She dropped back on her ass, breath hissing, then swiped a hand over her fever-hot brow, though her teeth chattered as though it was freezing cold.
Renate dropped on his haunches before her, his hands curling over her shoulders. “Stay put. Try to relax. I think you’re experiencing some level of shock. We’ll hole up in this building before nightfall. There should be some provisions. Food, water. And hopefully some blankets to keep you warm.” One of his hands moved to cup under her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. “Okay?”
The wind dropped as thunder rumbled overhead. Spits of rain hit her face, hinting at an imminent downpour. Bonnie licked one of Ally’s arms and whined.
She managed a nod, reminding herself she’d seek shelter with this alien just until the storm passed. No longer.
Renate’s clasp tightened fractionally as he smiled. Moments later he retrieved her backpack and, holding it like a shield to the remnants of the storefront window, he propelled it forward.
Glass splintered and shattered to the ground, loud in the thick silence broken only by the increased rumblings overhead. She closed her eyes, breathing deep of the scent of rain in the air—just as the dark skies unleashed its fury.
She gasped at the icy sting of rain that poured thick and fast. But she didn’t move. Her eyes widened as Renate appeared through the wet curtain like a muscled gladiator materializing into an ancient Roman arena.
He lifted her into his arms and strode back to the store, stepping over the window casing and careful to avoid the rain-slicked glass either side. Bonnie leaped after them, whimpering.
Despite the warmth of Renate’s hard body, Ally shivered. After the heat of the day, the chill of the deluge seeped bone deep. And yet…somehow she felt better than she had in a long time… Safer.
Hail began to pepper the store’s tin roof like discordant, noisy drumming as Renate paused in the deepening shadows and placed her onto her feet. Dropping the backpack on the floor, he curled an arm around her waist to support her. His breath was warm on her ear when he leaned close so she could hear him above the din. “You’ll be safe here while I see if I can find anything useful in this mess.”
She turned her head in response, ignoring the fluttering of her heart at being so close. “There’s a…a waterproof flashlight in my backpack.”
He rummaged in her backpack as she sagged on her backside to the floor. It would be late afternoon at best and yet the dark clouds outside made it look like night. Teeth chattering, she cuddled into Bonnie, trying desperately to keep warm even as she took comfort from her canine friend.
Renate flicked on the flashlight, the powerful beam cutting through the gloom. He crouched beside her, keeping the light away from her eyes. Studying her for a moment, his eyes unreadable, his free hand lifted, his fingertips moving gently across her brow and down one side of her face. He bent low. “Let’s get you warm, hmm?”
He straightened, all fluid muscle and grace. His voice had been calm, but she’d sensed the urgency beneath. She frowned. Why did he care? Was this his way of gaining her trust, building her confidence?
Before he—his kind—ripped her whole world apart again.
The flashlight’s illumination moved away, arcing up and down as Renate methodically scanned each ransacked shelf for something of use.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. With Renate no longer close, her true emotions clamored once more to take hold, to pierce her heart with their savagery. She exhaled, close to tears. Lord help her, right then she wanted Renate to stop those emotions, to manipulate her mind until something close to peace transcended.
But then a memory closed in, crystalline sharp.
* * * * *
Sydney was clear and sunny, the windows of the tall buildings gleaming. Ally’s high heels clacked on the sidewalk, a happy beat. She smiled, absorbing the pulse of the city, the frenetic pace. She might have been born and raised on a dairy farm in the country, but she was a city girl now through and through.
Nine weeks ago she’d been promoted to advertising director, a coveted position that suited her to a T. She excelled at her work, at being a team leader. And though she kept long hours, Luke Sinclair, her attorney fiancé, kept similar work hours.
She’d been blessed in every way. A great job, an adoring, handsome fiancé and two stepchildren who’d come to accept her as part of their lives.
Her gait faltered, a shiver sliding up and down her spine like a premonition of doom. Her smile dissolved. And a short distance away, she saw Luke move on to his feet from the metal scrolled café seat where he’d been waiting for her to share lunch. He waved, catching her attention, his groomed blond hair oddly rumpled.
She forced a smile and waved back, pushing aside the ugly presentiment as she picked up pace then moved gratefully into the arms of her charcoal-suited husband.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “Is everything all right?”
Ally nodded, this once not feeling any delight at his pet name that made her feel special and so much prettier than any mirror revealed. “Fine, I think.” He pulled back and at his questioning look she said thoughtfully, “Perhaps a case of pre-wedding nerves.”
He cupped her face. “Sweetheart, the wedding is tomorrow. I hear it’s only natural for a bride to get a few jitters beforehand.”
She smiled. “Yes. You’re right. I’m being silly.”
His hazel eyes narrowed a little. “Just don’t tell me you’re planning on leaving me at the altar.”
“Luke! No!”
His face relaxed back into a smile and he pushed a lock of her loose hair behind an ear. “I know you won’t. Of course you won’t. We belong together.”
* * * * *
The warm hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present with a start.
Renate peered down at her, flashlight on the floor beside him, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
The drumming hail outside had softened into heavy rain, his words now much more audible. She sat up, away from Bonnie’s relative warmth, the dog curled up asleep on the cardboard. And all the while she tried not to be affected by the alien’s concern, by his sculpted body so close.
Warmth unfurled within even as she rubbed at her chilled arms, and she had to wonder if he attributed her peaked nipples to the cold.
Bloody hell. What was wrong with her? Even with her less than adequate memories, she knew she must have loved Luke. She wouldn’t have married the man if she hadn’t.
And yet here I am responding to another man as if he’s—what? The last man on the planet? No! Not a man. Alien. Don’t ever forget it.
“I’m fine.” She jerked away, hating him, but hating herself more when she immediately yearned for his touch. “Just fine.”
“You remembered something, didn’t you?” he asked gently.
She turned back, the movement stiff and slow, reluctant. She looked up. “I did. But I think it was from some time ago. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to recall things. I think the shock of what…what happened,” she shivered, as much from recalling parts of the horrific time as any chill in the air, “caused some sort of memory loss.”
“The virus wipes the past of any who survive it,” he explained. “Though it seems, at least with humans, all memories eventually return.”
How did he know? Were other humans alive?
She put a stopper on the hope fairly bursting for release. And somehow her query came out steady, normal. “I’m not the only survivor?”
His eyes regarded her with an intensity that would have made most women squirm. She lifted her chin. Perhaps she wasn’t most women? Something flared in his eyes before his lashes swept half-mast, hiding the emotion. “No. My kings have an earth woman. All her memories have returned.”
Her mouth dropped open. There were other survivors, just like her!
“But I saw women dying all around me,” s
he whispered. Those were the memories she wished really had stayed forgotten.
His lashes flicked apart and his brilliant gaze caught hers. All her horror drained away.
Thank you.
She could get used to this cocooning of her mind.
Perhaps that was his plan?
“Very few earth women survived,” he conceded gruffly. “But some did.”
She shook her head, clearing away the thoughts tumbling one on top of the other until they threatened to choke her. “I didn’t know.” Then what he’d said fully registered. “You said—kings? This earth woman is…is she with more than one alien?”
“Yes.” His expression was as fathomless as the ocean. “Although we are a possessive race, we have been left with no choice but to share.” He shrugged. “I believe the women won’t have reason to complain.”
Her eyes narrowed. Anger built. Her memories might be vague but she knew without doubt she was a one-man woman. “Let’s say for one moment I chose to stay with you, what would happen to me?”
His eyes glittered like diamonds. “You would have me—along with four other alien males of worth.”
Her belly dipped then twisted into knots before realization set in. He didn’t intend to give her up. He never had. The bastard! Serious anger kicked in. “No.” She glared up at him, unable to hold back the venom inside. “No friggin’ way. It’s one man for me or no man at all.”
His eyes fairly glowed as he murmured, “To be so lucky.”
And then blessed relief as her whole body relaxed, her mind emptied of all anguish. Mind control, again, she realized vaguely, unable—unwilling—to fight against it this time.
He held out a hand and she took it without hesitation. I should despise this man…alien. But even as the thought formed, it melted away and she allowed him to pull her to her feet as though an obedient child—an extremely cold, obedient child.
