Rescued By Tordin: Olodian Alien Warrior Romance

by Mychal Daniels

  Hot tears prickled her cheeks before she realized she was crying. She was a grown woman and could do this. One more step, and he gave a warning that let her know her coming any closer would cause him more injury than anything else. With one last look to express her sorrow, she turned to leave.

  The pounding sound of someone or something’s footsteps moving toward her caused her body to freeze. What was that?

  She looked up through the doors to the side of the engine bay from where she and the commander had just come. She saw nothing. She might be under extreme stress, but she knew something was moving toward her. She wasn’t that far gone. When it was too late to run, she could make out the outline, like a shimmer in the air, of some extremely tall—astronauts?— advancing quickly to grab her.

  Oh no, where did they come from?

  Willing herself to scramble and leave, she broke away to run up the incline to the other door and engine room. Right before she made it out the door, her body shut down. She couldn’t move anything. What was wrong with her? Kyra willed herself to move her legs in spite of the oxygen depletion. She watched in horror as what looked like a six and half to seven foot foreign astronaut approached her.

  Frozen. She was frozen to the spot. Maybe terror and a severe lack of oxygen were starting to play with her lucidity. Maybe this was a hallucination.

  The mirror-like shield and helmet hiding his face reflected her terrified and grime-smeared face staring back at her. Maybe he wasn’t real. The suit he wore didn’t resemble any of the countries with a space program. She’d attempt to communicate with him anyway—just in case he was indeed real. Now was not the time to be monolingual either. What could he or the others she now saw come into view be, Russian? Or were they some of the researchers she’d never met before? She couldn’t place them. They were too tall to be anyone from this station. She’d remember almost seven feet tall men walking around. This was too much. She felt herself increasingly overwhelmed as they closed the distance to stand in front of her.

  “Who are you? How did you get onboard this vessel?” was all she managed to get out before slumping in one of the men’s embrace.

  * * *

  Malm held the tiny female in his arms. He was sure it, no she, was female. She looked like a young Terrain with a most appealing amber skin tone. She’d spoken a language that sounded like one that was prevalent on her planet. He felt a thread of pulsing power running just under the surface and yet also sadness for her too. Malm could smell the high anxiety and exhaustion emanating from her—even through his protective suit. No wonder she overloaded and short-circuited herself enough to pass out. As he continued to hold the limp female in his arms, he used his universal interpreter to discover she’d spoken Colonial North American English with a hint of some unrecognizable dialect.

  Good, he would change to this tongue, and he instructed the others to do the same. Her breaths were shallow. He took out a breath support mask and gently slipped it over her small head. The air began to flow, and relief flooded him as her breathing deepened.

  Good, hopefully the female would live.

  “Malm,” Jalek called out to him. “This male’s vital signs are extremely weak.”

  Malm turned to see a male Terrain leaning against the wall. Even though the male now had a breathing mask on, Malm’s senses confirmed he was close to expiring.

  “Leave him. We are to scan for survivors. Jalek…” The younger warrior stepped forward. Malm was impressed so far with how he carried himself.

  “Yes, Sire?”

  Malm would put Tordin’s theory to the test. He would have Jalek handle the task of scanning for survivors and see how he handled it. “Jalek, I want you to—”

  The female in his arms began to rouse herself. She mumbled something he was not able to understand. He didn’t want her to be startled and pass out again, so he gave his warriors the signal to remain still and quiet.

  “Where am I?” she asked as if coming out of a deep slumber.

  She jumped when she heard his voice. He knew his voice was deep, even among his own kind, but he wanted to make sure she understood what was happening. They had all uncloaked themselves when she passed out. He knew she must have seen at least his helmet before, and now he wanted to treat her with the utmost care to avoid causing additional harm or fear. It appeared the Terrains had been through a huge ordeal so far.

  He spoke as gently as he could, taking care to use her language. “You are on your failing vessel. We are here to remove you to our craft and attend to your injuries—if you allow us to.”

  It took a moment for her to comprehend what he said. She tilted her head down and back a few times and smiled. She said, “I knew a miracle would show up!” Then her entire being perked up as she spoke. “I’m fine. Please, please, you have to find and rescue my friend, Phoebe. She’s trapped under fallen debris, and we don’t have much time. Please find her,” she pleaded, grasping at the material of Malm’s protective suit.

  He still hadn’t removed his helmet, because the air quality was almost unbreathable. She began to look drowsy again, like she would pass out once more. He then realized she’d taken off her breathing mask. Before she lost consciousness again, he placed it back over her ears and waited for her to regain enough awareness to give him more information.

  Within a moment her eyes opened, and he proceeded to get more information from her.

  “What is your designator?” he asked, not sure that was the right word.

  “Oh, you mean my name? My name is Kyra Simmons, and yours?” she asked, appearing to have regained some of her energy.

  “I am Malm. My team is here to help you. Would you like to leave this vessel? It’s failing. If so, please follow my warrior to the Jump transport. We cannot stay here too much longer.”

  He attempted to pass her off to the nearest team member when she stood her ground and said, “Yes, please help me. It’s my friend. You have to find her. Her name—um, designator—is Phoebe, Doctor Phoebe Brown. Please find her. I’m not going anywhere until you find her.”

  He watched in fascination as the little Terrain spoke with strength and purpose. She was unique, even from his experience of interacting with countless beings from different galaxies. He would locate her friend and get them safely to the ship. They were both female and fell under the protocol. She had asked for help, and they were now within the mandate of the Alliance to bring them on board the mother ship. His Sire would not have to stand trial for breaking any laws.

  “Malm, can you hear me?” Tordin’s voice came through his vo-link loud and clear.

  Malm subvocalized his reply as not to scare the tiny Terrain in front of him. “Yes, Sire, I can. We have found one female in fairly good health and a rapidly expiring male so far. She has asked for help for her and her companion female, who we will search for now.”

  “Thank you for knowing why I called. And thank you, Malm, for following protocol. She asked for help, and you have the documentation of that?”

  “Yes, Sire. She is right here and will board the Jump once we locate her female… friend.”

  “Ah yes, a friend is a companion who is close, like you and me,” Tordin said, helping Malm with the term, as he spoke more languages fluently than all of them put together. “I’ll release the line for you to carry on, but understand you have only minutes to find and clear the vessel. We have run a scan. There are only two more beings with vital signs. One is in the area where you are now, and the other is one and a half levels above you in a passage way. There are no other vital signs in the entire vessel.”

  Malm felt the pain of what his Lord spoke. Other Terrain had died on this vessel. He had to hurry if the other female was in danger. The air quality was almost unbreathable. He responded to Tordin, continuing to subvocalize his reply. “Yes, the other one here is expiring rapidly.”

  “No, there is another still. Vitals are as strong as the female with you. That one appears to be hiding close by. Use the portable scanner to locate it, an
d be careful.”

  “Yes, Sire. Will make haste to get these three on board now.”

  “I’ll meet you when you return for a debriefing, Malm,” Tordin said before he broke the communication link.

  Malm wasted no time putting the team into action.

  “Jalek, I have an assignment for you. There is a female located one and a half levels up. She is most likely injured and covered with debris. You will need to give her the breathing mask as soon as you locate her. Take Surt with you to retrieve her and bring her to the Jump. Make haste, as the vessel is very unstable. You have…” he checked the environmental conditions to be as accurate as possible, “six clicks to return with her. Move!”

  Malm watched Jalek and Surt hurry to find the other female. Then he gave similar orders to another team member to locate the other being hiding in this area. He and his second waited with the female who was fighting bouts of unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Kyra was ecstatic. Help had come, albeit most likely athletic Russian cosmonauts, but help nonetheless. The events of the day had taken their toll, and she was tired, struggling to stay awake. She didn’t try to speak as she stood there with these two very big and tall men, waiting for Phoebe to be found.

  The oxygen mask was a welcome relief. She hadn’t realized how much the air had deteriorated until this large man had placed the mask on her. Then she remembered Mark. He needed a mask, as well. When she turned to find him, her heart sank. She could tell from where she stood that his soul had left his body. He lay in a crumpled mass against the same wall he’d been thrown against before these men showed up. There was no condensation forming in the mask from his breathing. She wanted to cry and hit something.

  The commander was dead. He was so close to being rescued like she’d told him. She’d failed to help him stay with her just a few minutes longer. What if she hadn’t turned her back to leave? This was so unfair, and she wanted to take it out on something or someone. The thought of Brantley crossed her mind again. It was all his fault. That one little, sniveling idiot managed to take out an entire space station. Kyra wasn’t sure whether he’d made it off the station or not, but she hoped he got his just deserts for this.

  “No, don’t let her see me. She’ll try to kill me! You have to help me. Keep her away from me, please!”

  Kyra spun around to see the object of her murderous rage. “Brantley! I’m going to kill you!” She lunged at him before the tall one named Malm had a chance to catch her.

  Kyra managed to land four or five good punches before the men pulled her off him. Brantley cowered and hid himself behind one of the men.

  “Keep her away from me. I told you she would try to kill me.”

  “You bet I will. You did this! It’s all because of you. You killed the commander! Brantley, you need to pay for what you’ve done.” She ran toward him again only to go airborne in the arms of the strong Malm. She had the quick thought that these men must be body-builders, but at the moment she had Brantley to kill.

  “What has this male done that has upset you so, Kyra?” Malm asked.

  Since she still could not see his face, she had to gather from his tone that he wanted to stay impartial. She wasn’t having it. Brantley didn’t deserve to be rescued. He didn’t deserve to breathe the air they were giving him. She looked at him in utter disgust as he took in huge gulps of oxygen and attempted to hide behind one of the giants.

  She directed her response to Malm. “This one is responsible for all this,” she said waving a hand around the engine room. “He’s the reason we’re in this mess. He killed our commander. Look at him, Brantley. He’s dead!” she screamed, pointing to the commander’s still form against the wall. “How does it feel to know you killed him and who knows how many others? Do you feel powerful enough now? Huh?” Her skin felt white-hot with emotion.

  The commander died, but Brantley lived to be rescued? That was the epitome of tragedy.

  Before she could launch further into the tirade she felt bubbling up into her chest on how she was going to do everything in her power to have him prosecuted for this, heavy footsteps drew closer.

  Kyra turned to see two more of the big men running back; one of them carried Phoebe in his arms. She broke away from Malm, managing to kick Brantley hard in the shin, and dashed over to her friend before anyone could stop her. Phoebe wasn’t conscious, but Kyra could see the condensation from her breath within the oxygen mask.

  “Is she all right?” Kyra asked the one holding her.

  He hesitated and then with very short words that seemed disjointed and fragmented, he said, “Her deep sleep. Healing have to be.”

  Kyra felt a large hand on her shoulder and guessed Malm was standing there. When he spoke, her suspicions proved correct.

  “It’s time, Kyra. Follow me, and we will make sure you are seen by our healers.”

  “I don’t need that, I’m fine. Just do me a favor. Make sure you help my friend Phoebe and…” she swiveled to lock eyes with Brantley again, “keep him far away from me, lest I kill him where he stands.”

  Malm took a moment, as if subvocalizing with someone. He made a gesture with his head and said, “As you wish. We will keep the male away from you. Now follow us. This station is about to fail completely.”

  She took a few steps following behind Malm when the Station tilted again, and she fell head-first into his back. She was so tired, but they had been rescued. This day was over, and she and Phoebe had lived. She finally gave in to the dark pull of sleep and let it wash over her.

  6

  He moved slowly, taking his time climbing up the length of the bed to capture her body. She lay there watching and marveling at the ripple and play of muscle across the broad expanse of his large chest and arms. He was huge in a muscular, athletic way.

  Breath begged to enter her oxygen-starved lungs as she waited to be taken by this beautiful man. When he drew close enough to cover her with his massive body, in an act of complete surrender she opened her arms and beckoned to him. She knew she trusted him completely.

  His astounding strength was evident when he bent down in a seductive half push-up over her. His full, warm lips brushed feather-light kisses across her forehead and down to her eyelids, nose and cheeks. He was playing with her in a slow, torturous tease.

  Flashes raced through the neurotransmitters firing messages of excitement and passion through her body. She was connected to him through his kisses and his essence in this intimate exchange, and she never wanted to let go.

  He was so close, maybe even inside her soul with his penetrating presence. Even though he barely touched her, she was completely his for the taking. His addictively fragrant scent wrought havoc with her ability to process anything but want, need and passion. Every slight move he made caused tremors of excitement to run through her entire being. Her hand reached up of its own accord, seeking out his flesh to touch, investigating its wonderful composition. The firm, smooth skin and hardened muscle of his bicep greeted her as her hand caressed his arm.

  This was her freedom. He knew and understood her like no other had before. Without her usual fear of touching another, she ran fingertips along the ridge of his collarbone. To her great delight, vibrations rippled through his body and into her touch as he let out a deep, throaty growl of pleasure.

  Heat from his body lapped against her own, teasing a gentle moan from her in answer. His assault of kisses marched down her cheeks and onward to settle upon her waiting lips. She was hungry for his kiss and moaned at the sweet torture he inflicted on her. How was she going to survive it?

  The press of warm, full, masculine lips to her own sent fire through her body. On instinct, she arched up to meet him, and her arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to her supine position. In welcome answer, his large body blanketed hers as he lay on top of her, still holding back his full weight. She felt small in comparison to him, yet womanly and appreciated as his piercing gray eyes took in every inch of her face. She relished the feel of his
weight, at least that which he allowed to press against her, pinning her in a sweet take-down. Yes, finally Kyra felt safe, protected and wanted.

  A wayward lock of raven hair, so dark it looked blue, fell from his hairline to tickle her forehead as he continued to explore and tease her lips with the sweetest kisses she’d ever experienced. What was he doing to her? She never knew a kiss to be this emotionally binding and sexually satisfying. His alluring scent enveloped her, eliciting sighs and moans of pleasure, taking her to heights she’d never known. Was it possible for passion to be so good it was painful?

  She wanted to weep, laugh, cry and scream in this moment. It felt like he touched her soul and spirit with his kiss. Kyra meshed with him as one being when he gathered her into his arms to hold her closer. They lay together in that embrace. Could this amalgamation of feelings last forever? She sure hoped so.

  Please let this never end. It feels so good and right, her heart sang as she fell deeper into him.

  Her breasts were crushed against his massive, strong chest. Together they beat out a symphony of heartbeats in answer to one another as he intensified the kiss. He was her dominant, take-charge sex god. She wanted nothing more than to give him her all in response. She was ready. Kyra wanted him to fill her with himself. She wanted him inside her.

  She felt his deep intake of breath as he rose ever so slightly to capture her gaze again with his amazing eyes. They sparkled like many-faceted diamonds. She could see something beyond want in them. It was too powerful to articulate, as if he asked something of her that was more than she could comprehend.

  This—whatever it was—and the purity of it scared her the longer he held her gaze. It sought to convey something to her that was bigger than the both of them, so brilliant and intense. Kyra was alive, as if ruled by a bolt of lightning. A vast electric life force coursed between them. It weaved some kind of eternal bond through them, in and out of them. She fought the urge to look away, but his gaze bore light and examination into her. His essence probed her to her depths, where nothing could be hidden.