Alien Selection

by Honey Phillips

  The protest emerged before he could bite it back. “But, sir—”

  “Officer T’saran, do I need to remind you that your penchant for assisting seemingly helpless females has caused enough issues in the past?”

  T’saran clenched his teeth against an impulsive reply, anger and guilt fighting for dominance.

  Assuming the matter was settled, T’ngorzul had already moved on. “S’kran, take her to your lab. It won’t hurt to heal her wounds before you begin your experiments.” He cast a dismissive glance at the silent figure in T’saran’s arms, once again wrapped in the tattered coat. “Perhaps you should disinfect her as well.”

  With that parting shot, T’ngorzul departed. S’kran stepped forward. Like most scholars, he lacked the musculature of the warriors, but in his case the lack of bulk was almost skeletal. T’saran knew that he also had an unfortunate fondness for alcoholic substances, but T’ngorzul had assured him that he was still a competent medic.

  “I can take her to the lab,” S’kran offered.

  “I will bring her myself,” he growled, and S’kran took a nervous step back.

  “Yes, of course, warrior.” S’kran ducked his head, then turned and led the way out of the dock, his shoulders hunched as if he expected T’saran to assault him from behind. He had to bite back another growl at the implied insult to his honor before he followed.

  The ship T’ngorzul had chosen for this mission was a small patrol vessel, hastily retrofitted with a lab area and the medical equipment S’kran had requested. It should probably have been decommissioned years ago, T’saran thought resentfully as he walked behind the medic through the dingy corridors. He still remembered the gleaming white walls and pristine equipment of the ship transporting him to his first assignment, back when the future seemed full of promise.

  Instead, he followed an untrustworthy medic into a lab where the raw metal walls of its former occupation as a storage area were only too apparent, and a motley assortment of machines was scattered about in disorganized chaos. This is temporary, he reminded himself. Commander T’ngorzul might not have been liked by everyone, but his lineage was unimpeachable, and this assignment would pave the way to better ones.

  “Put her on the exam table, please,” S’kran said, already hurrying to a lopsided cabinet.

  T’saran laid her on the table, carefully placing her on her side so that she was not resting on her injury. His hearts clenched at how small and fragile she looked. S’kran returned and reached for her coat.

  T’saran had him up against the wall, his claws at his throat, before he realized what he intended to do.

  “Warrior!” S’kran squeaked. “I mean no harm to the female.”

  Fuck, he was acting like she was his mate. There was a reason why female Yehrin were only ever treated by female medics. T’saran took a deep breath and forced his hands to unclench, leaving behind a thin trickle of blood on S’kran’s throat.

  “I apologize, medic.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he had no right to protest. He stepped back and allowed S’kran to approach the table again.

  “Begin with the head wound,” he ordered.

  Keeping a cautious eye on T’saran, the medic ran a scanner across the back of her head.

  “As indicated by our preliminary surveys, their skulls are very thin,” he said. “But it does not appear to be broken, merely bruised, and the skin is torn.”

  “Can you correct it?”

  “Y-yes. But I will need to touch her.”

  T’saran studied the other male. He did not like the idea of the medic’s hands on his female, but she needed assistance. S’kran’s eyes were clear and his speech unimpeded—his abilities would not be hindered by alcohol.

  “Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.

  S’kran gathered some additional equipment, then carefully removed a small portion of the female’s long brown hair. Possessed by some unexplainable desire, T’saran gathered the strands and tucked them into his belt while he continued to watch the medic closely. He didn’t even realize that he was growling until S’kran’s hands started to shake and the medic shot him a fearful glance.

  “Continue,” T’saran ordered. “I will not harm you as long as you are careful.”

  S’kran did not appear to find that reassuring, but he continued, using the scanner to identify and heal bruised areas before sealing the wound and covering it with a healing gel.

  “That’s the best I can do, but she should recover quickly.” S’kran took a deep breath. “Are there other injuries?”

  T’saran considered the one on her breast, but he hated the thought of the medic seeing her unclothed form. Like all warriors, he had received medical training as part of his studies, and he could take care of basic wounds.

  “She has a cut and some bruising. Leave the scanner and the gel. I will treat them myself.”

  S’kran wrung his hands, the small black claws of a scholar looking impotent and helpless. “Commander T’ngorzul wishes me to perform some tests immediately.”

  “She will be healed first.” His tone brooked no disagreement.

  “Y-yes, but—”

  “Leave us, S’kran,” he ordered, then remembered the small size of the ship. He did not want S’kran running into the commander.

  “Wait in your quarters,” he amended. The medic had a small bunk room attached to the lab. “Do not emerge until I call for you.”

  “Yes, Officer T’saran,” S’kran said meekly, but he moved towards his quarters with suspicious haste.

  “Remain sober,” T’saran added. “You may be needed.”

  The door slid closed without an answer, and T’saran suspected that his order would be ignored. Perhaps that was for the best. Without S’kran, the commander would not be able to proceed with his tests.

  Dismissing them both from his mind, he bent over his female and cupped her cheek in his hand. His hand encompassed her whole head, the dark grey of his skin a pleasing contrast to the pale tan of hers. He carefully retracted his claws, and stroked healing gel across the delicate skin.

  “Do not fear, little female,” he whispered. “You are safe with me.”

  As he proceeded to open her clothing, his shaft, already half erect merely from being so close to her, stiffened to a full erection, but he ignored it. Just as he brought the cleansing cloth to the wound, her eyes opened.

  Chapter Three

  Lauren swam back to consciousness slowly, first aware of the ache in her head, then the burning pain in her breast. Confused images flickered through her mind—those horrible men waylaying her and the monster coming to her rescue. Monster?

  Her eyes flew open as the memory of the massive horned figure with burning eyes flashed through her memory. Her breath caught when she found him hovering her, looking just as she remembered. Now she was close enough to see that the purple in his eyes came from striations surrounding cat-like pupils set in a face too harsh and angular to be considered human. Her eyes flicked up to the massive black horns curling back from his forehead. Definitely not human.

  She automatically started to scramble backwards, but he stilled her with one giant hand—one giant three-fingered hand. She tensed automatically, but he wasn’t hurting her, and she didn’t see the claws she thought she’d remembered. The warmth of his hand was oddly soothing, and she didn’t feel as afraid as she thought she should.

  “Who are you?” She looked beyond him to grey metal walls, stacked with odd looking machines. “And where am I?”

  He started speaking in the deep rumbling voice she remembered, but she couldn’t understand anything he said. Whatever language he was speaking didn’t sound like anything she’d ever heard before, and her fear started to resurface.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, the action making his horns twitch. Despite the heavy, non-human bone structure, his features were similar enough to human that she could read his frustration. She tensed instinctively. In her experience, a fr
ustrated man was likely to lash out.

  Instead, he took a deep breath.

  “Safe,” he said carefully.

  Why did she want to believe him, just as she had when he came to her rescue in the alley? She knew better.

  “Where am I?” she repeated.

  He considered for a moment.

  “Ship.”

  “Ship? What kind of ship?” She looked around again at the metal walls, the machines she didn’t recognize, and her heart started to thump. Adding the unfamiliar technology to his inhuman appearance led her to one unbelievable conclusion.

  “Do you mean a spaceship?” Her voice sounded thin in her own ears.

  “Yes.” He nodded, horns bobbing, and her head started to spin. He seemed to realize what was happening and his other hand came up to cup her cheek with exquisite tenderness.

  “Safe,” he repeated.

  Somehow, she didn’t find the thought of being on an alien spaceship reassuring, but she bit her lip and nodded. His eyes tracked the movement and she saw a flare of heat. Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t stood a chance against two human men and this alien had defeated them easily. No weapon was visible but considering the breadth of his shoulders and the heavy muscles revealed by a sleeveless black uniform, she doubted he would need one.

  Instead of pawing at her, his thumb stroked her cheek gently. “Safe.”

  She almost gave in to a surprising urge to nestle her face against his palm, but then he removed his hand and picked up a cloth. When his focus shifted, she suddenly realized that her coat was open, exposing her ripped uniform and most of her naked breasts.

  “No!” She panicked, trying to clutch the torn material together. The movement made the fiery pain in her breast flare up.

  He broke out in another torrent of the harsh unfamiliar language, before he stopped and sighed. Raising a hand to his wrist device, he started tapping with what were undeniably claws. She knew he hadn’t had those earlier. Had her head injury affected her more than she realized?

  “Heal,” he said finally. “Wound. Tit.”

  The word sounded shockingly coarse in his deep accented voice, but something about it also made her body respond. Her nipples tightened into tight little peaks, tingling and aching simultaneously. She saw him notice, saw his eyes heat, and she braced herself, but he made no move towards her, simply waiting patiently.

  “Wound. Tit. Heal,” he repeated. He raised one hand to show her the cloth and the other to reveal a tube of some kind of liquid. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been concerned about her injuries. Even if it was just a ploy to paw at her, he was still being more considerate about it than her ex-husband had ever been.

  In the end, she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Yes,” she added when he looked confused.

  “Good.”

  He bent over her, his horns right in front of her face and she clenched her fists, preparing for the pain. Instead, he very gently washed away the blood clotting at the edges of the wound while she studied his horns in an attempt to distract herself from that alien face so close to her breasts. The horns were thick and dark, with a rough surface and a spiraling ridge up each one. Despite their vicious appearance, she had an unexpected urge to touch one. Before she could work up the courage, he raised his head.

  This time, he held up another device, one that reminded her uneasily of a weapon.

  “Heal,” he said, then looked uncertain. He tapped at his wrist device again. “Fast.”

  “You mean it won’t take long?”

  He nodded, then added reluctantly. “Fast pain.”

  “Oh. It’s going to hurt?”

  She was actually surprised he hadn’t hurt her already, and she was used to pain. At least he was asking her.

  “Go ahead,” she said, and clenched her hands again. To her surprise, he covered a fist with one giant, warm hand. Startled, she looked up at him, but before she could ask, there was a brief, searing pain in her breast. It faded just as fast, leaving behind a slight, lingering ache rather than the fiery burn that had preceded his treatment.

  “Good. Brave female.”

  No one had ever called her brave before. A warm little glow filled her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Heal.” He held up a container of grey gel. It didn’t look particularly appealing, but she hoped it wouldn’t be harmful.

  “Go ahead,” she said with a shrug. Her indifference vanished the second he stroked one big finger down her breast. Oh. The combination of the cool gel and his slightly rough finger actually felt amazing. As he worked the gel into her skin the last lingering ache departed, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. He was focused on his task, and she followed his gaze. The contrast of his big steel-colored hand against her pale flesh was oddly erotic. His claws had disappeared again, and she realized that they must be retractable.

  As he continued, his hand slowed, rubbing the soothing substance into her flesh with long, deliberate strokes that were shockingly pleasurable. Even in the beginning, Adam had never treated her breasts with such tender care. Eventually, the monster moved to the other breast, the one that Nick had so sorely abused, circling inward until he reached her swollen nipple. In spite of everything she had been through that evening, she found herself arching into his hand, desperate for the pleasure of his touch to erase the horrible memories.

  Her breath caught as he very, very carefully worked the gel into the taut peak, and when he brushed his thumb across the tip, a small gasp escaped. He looked up, his eyes glowing purple again and, for once, she didn’t feel the need to duck her head. She returned his gaze openly, wondering what he could see in her face. Whatever it was, it caused him to pause then draw back. He pulled the remnants of her uniform back across her chest.

  An odd combination of relief and disappointment filled her as he moved on to cleanse her knees, bruised and scraped from the fall, before finally stepping back. She tried to sit up and he was there immediately, helping her swing her legs over the edge of the table and supporting her while she regained her balance.

  “Um, thank you… What’s your name?”

  More incomprehensible language before he shook his head and said simply, “T’saran.”

  “T’saran?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, T’saran.” She took a deep breath and held out her hand. “I’m Lauren.”

  He stared at her hand for a minute, then reached out to take it. Just as his fingers closed around hers, a new voice intruded.

  “Ah, yes. I believe that gesture is called a handshake. Although I am surprised that you wish to shake hands with your captor.”

  Chapter Four

  “Captor?” she repeated, looking at the newcomer, a cold feeling gathering in her stomach. He was not quite as large as T’saran, but he was still huge, his horns heavy and dark. His eyes glowed yellow and his face seemed twisted into a permanent sneer. She instinctively lowered her eyes, convinced that it would take little to enrage this male.

  “Of course. Why else would a Yehrin warrior come to the rescue of a human…” Eerie yellow eyes ran over her dismissively. “Scrap?”

  T’saran started to protest in their growling language, but the new alien barked a command at him, and he subsided, his fists clenched.

  “I am Commander T’ngorzul, and this is my ship,” the man continued smoothly. “Officer T’saran was sent to retrieve a female specimen for our experiments.”

  “Experiments?” she whispered, starting to feel dizzy. Every horrible tale she had ever heard of alien abduction swirled in her head. And behind that was a horrible feeling of betrayal. She should have known she couldn’t trust a man, even an alien man. So much for safe, she thought bitterly.

  “There is no need to look so distressed,” he continued. “It is merely a series of examinations to determine if you—if Earth females are suitable.”

  “Suitable for what?” she managed to ask through numb lips.

  “For breeding, of course. We al
ways start a breeding program on conquered planets.”

  “But you haven’t conquered us,” she protested, even though her horrified mind was still stuck on the word breeding. What a horrible, cruel irony.

  “Not yet,” he agreed with unruffled composure. “But by this time next year, you will be under our control.”

  He looked at her again and shook his head. “I had hoped for a more pleasing specimen, but I suppose you will have to do.”

  T’saran burst into speech again to which the new man responded with a few sharp comments before turning back to her.

  “You may have one shift to recover from your present injuries. You may remain here or accompany Officer T’saran.”

  Accompany her betrayer? She had no desire to ever see him again. She shook her head sharply, then felt an unexpected pang of guilt at the way T’saran’s face fell. But why should she care about his feelings?

  “Very well.” Commander T’ngorzul looked spitefully amused. “You will remain here. Do not attempt to leave the lab. Most of the men on my ship have not seen a female for some time. They might be tempted to try a breeding experiment ahead of schedule.”

  T’saran growled, but T’ngorzul only laughed at her horrified expression before he wheeled and headed for the door with a sharp command to T’saran.

  With a last look at her that she refused to acknowledge, T’saran followed him out of the room. She pulled her legs up and huddled into her coat, then gave in to the gathering tears.

  “Commander T’ngorzul,” T’saran protested again as they left the med lab. “You agreed to let her spend the shift with me.”

  “I agreed to give her the choice.”

  “But she doesn’t understand. I need the translation upgrade.” His current translation protocol allowed him to understand human speech, but his own abilities to speak it were severely limited.

  T’ngorzul raised an eyebrow. “You know that the fleet doesn’t provide those for anyone below the rank of Sub Commander until after the first year of conquest.”

  T’saran gritted his teeth. “For another year of service?”