Prison Moon - Ice Heart: An Alien abduction Sci Fi Romance

by Alexandra Marell

  “One day,” he growled. “One day.”

  He spilled his seed onto her soft belly in a mindless thrusting rush, his cock sliding over her clitora, jumping together into that dark abyss where a man could lose himself for a brief moment and simply feel. He pinned her hands high above her head, seeking out the surrender in her eyes, the silent yes that made her his.

  He wanted to collapse onto her, fighting for breath, inhaling the scent of her climax. To kiss her and fall into her embrace and sleep like the dead. With a dark groan, he flexed his shaking arms and rolled from her to wipe himself clean and fix his pants. Like a dousing of iced water, reality, practical thoughts of survival came thundering back. He reached for his discarded belt. Janie sighed and covered her eyes with her forearm. He buckled up and bent to move it away.

  “No regrets,” he said. “Now you’re mine.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Now you’re safe.”

  “And that means you’re mine, too.” Janie pushed onto one elbow, a mischievous light replacing the dazed elation. “This works both ways, right?”

  His hands stilled on the belt buckle. Sex that meant something? Binding passion instead of fleeting sensation lost in five heaving breaths. He caught her mood, snapping closed the buckle. A wry chuckle echoing her impish smile.

  “I know little of your Earth expressions, but I believe you are stuck on me.”

  “Stuck with you.” Janie lowered her eyes, the smile widened. “Smiling in the face of danger. It’s another thing we Brits do.”

  “You speak of the people of Brit Ain?”

  “It’s Britain, more commonly known as the United Kingdom. Devon is in England one of the four countries that make up the union.” Her voice trailed away. No need to keep on reminding her that neither of them would see their homeland again.

  “Don’t move, I’ll fetch you water so you may freshen up.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” A hint of embarrassment touched the smile. Lifting her butt, Janie pulled awkwardly at her pants, covering herself from him. Kelskar unwound his scarf, hunkered down and used one end to wipe away the sticky seed from her belly. Janie flopped back onto bent elbows, face lifted to the cavern roof. He splayed a hand on the spare flesh, dipping inwards under protruding ribs.

  “Food must be our next priority. I’ll be right back.”

  He hated leaving her, even in the safety of the cave when they’d likely outlasted their respite. Plans would already be in place to showcase them to the max. He drank from the stream, throwing water over his face and hair. Hissing against the sting of cold on the sores festering beneath the remaining patch of helmet plating. Would ripping it off affect the dormant chip? He gave it an experimental pull, ignoring the lancing pain piercing his brain. Better not risk it and keep on hoping he possessed enough reserve to fend off the growing infection.

  If he didn’t, they were both in trouble. He dipped one end of his scarf in the stream, watching his reflection waver, breaking apart and reforming like a splintered painting in the flowing torrent. For one, heart-thumping moment he saw a stranger watching him from the water. Hair the colour of rough tree bark brushed the man’s shoulders. Kelskar saw his mother’s eyes, pale and colourless as early morning light. His father’s strong chin, a nose straight and unbroken.

  A man in uniform, high-buttoned at the throat, gold bars striping each shoulder. A commander of men, with no clue what horrors his future held.

  Or did he? Kelskar drove his fist into the water, cracking the image into a myriad of pieces as if he could grab his past self, shake him by the throat and beg him to open his eyes and see the treachery that awaited him. How did he not see it coming? How did he fail to protect those he loved?

  Kelskar rose, listening for sound on the path, on the slope below. Nothing moved but the rustling branches of bushes and trees, the crackling leaves racing the wind on the path. Striding the ten steps back to the cave, he embraced his second chance at redemption with heart, body and soul. He’d kill every inmate on this forsaken moon, if that’s what it took to keep Janie safe.

  Every cursed one of them.

  Janie was glad of the few moments alone. Mind-blowing orgasms with a fantasy man aside, there was sex and then there was this. Something she didn’t quite understand. Something epic.

  “I’ll do it.” She accepted the wet scarf, grateful for the way Kelskar moved to the rear of the cave to give the falling vines an experimental pull. Scoping out an escape from the cave if they were attacked.

  They discarded all inhibition in the cage and now it was like starting over. Abandoned to passion, that wild sensation of his mouth on her, embarrassment had been the last thing on her mind. Now cold reason intruded, a time to process and brood on what it all meant.

  Janie rose to her knees, tucking the tunic into her pants. At least she didn’t have to worry about him calling her in the morning. In this for the long run, if she believed his fervent promises.

  Standing, she brushed grit from her knees, warmed to see Kelskar watching her, arms folded. “That was...nice.” Janie bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze. “Better than nice. I mean, oh hell post sex awkwardness. I don’t suppose a man like you ever feels it.”

  “I remember only a multitude of listed transactions. Wealthy females paid my master. I gave them the value of their coin and after the act their faces faded from memory.”

  “But it wasn’t always like that if you had a wife and child.” The mention of a family he barely remembered, twisted a twinge of envy in her gut. He’d have loved them to insanity. Stood gallantly between them and the world.

  Men like Kelskar were a rare find. Would he really do that for her?

  “I still don’t remember how it was between me and them. I have flashes, brief pictures in my mind, mostly feelings.” He took a step, then another stalking her like a predator scoping out its prey. Did he even realise his impact on those around him? “What I felt for you, when I took you. When we grew closer in that cage. If my life with them was like that, then I’ve been doubly blessed.”

  “Are you for real?” A question she’d be asking till the day she died. He felt real, hot, and solid. Radiating the kind of effortless confidence people paid thousands to achieve.

  “Janie, I honour them, would know more of my past life, if memory serves. Will you still help me with that? Can you help me knowing they will always hold a place in my heart?”

  “Of course you must honour them.” Did that come out right? She meant it, of course she did. He must properly grieve for his lost life. It took nothing away from what they’d done or what they might be together.

  Did it?

  “They’re ghosts now,” he said. “I will feel the pain of remembering, but I do not fear those ghosts and neither should you. This is my life now. Believe me when I say I would have taken you for the cupcakes alone, Janie Roberts.”

  Cupcakes, hot muffins dripping with creamy butter. Those days of floury hands, the bitter smell of burnt sugar filling the kitchen. Of translating the visions in her head into feasts for the eyes and mouth seemed a long, long way away now. She nudged him with an elbow, riding the glow, stupidly pleased at the compliment.

  “I need the bathroom. Is it safe to go out?”

  “I’ll accompany you. Then we forage for food.” Kelskar moved smoothly in front of her to stand sideways in the staggered cave mouth, tilting his head to peer out with one eye. “It looks safe enough. Let’s arm up. I don’t want you out there unprotected.”

  “I’m only going to the rock. I’ll be quick.” Great, a camera watching and now she had to pee with the thought of someone sneaking up on her?

  “Your sword will give you advantage of reach. And make for a swifter kill.”

  Janie swallowed down the dry knot in her throat. What would it take to make her stab someone with a sword? The Janie she knew would never do that. Retrieving her sword from the arsenal piled on a shelf below their sleeping stone, she weighed the short blade in her hand.

  “I’ll never get
used to it.”

  “Carry it in your hand. Drawing it from the scabbard will waste valuable time. Place it at your right side, near to your body. “It looks safe enough, come.”

  She suffered worse indignities in the cage. He’d seen it all, but the change to this new environment took her back to the old Janie, who wouldn’t do this in front of a man, no matter how intimate they’d been.

  “Don’t go too far,” Kelskar said. “And keep talking to me, but not too loud. I don’t want you out of earshot.”

  “Won’t talking risk giving our position away?”

  “A risk I’ll take. Go and be quick.”

  Kelskar set up watch, keeping one eye on the diamond-shaped box hovering in the lee of the slope. Making plans for them, no doubt. Janie scuttled behind a rock, skin prickling, unable to shake the knowledge they weren’t alone. Too exposed at her back, she squeezed herself between two taller rocks forming a narrow gap promising some privacy.

  “Janie, talk to me.” Kelskar’s low whisper funnelled through the rocks, echoing over and over before dying away.

  “I’m fine. Nearly done.” Her voice seemed to go right up through the opening, as if she was talking to the sky. Eerily disorientating. She stood and buttoned up, turning left then right. She couldn’t have taken more than ten steps away from Kelskar, but which way did she come? An almost black rock face, dripped rusty coloured water, creeping vines and two twisted trees standing sentinel. Nothing looked familiar.

  “Kelskar, where are you?” The shallow gap swallowed her voice. Her fingers fumbled on the belt.

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  “I hear you.” Okay, if she breathed normally and followed his voice, she’d find him. Through that gap in the rock, he’d be on the other side. She couldn’t be lost this near to the cave.

  “Janie, where in Daermot’s name are you? Talk to me and keep talking. Dark gods. Janie?”

  Now his voice came from everywhere at once. Janie, stuck the short sword into her belt, circling with a sense of growing dread. Remembering the time she lost her mother in a crowded department store, the blinding white panic that blanked out everything in her mind.

  Fingers scraped rock, a sharp sting stabbed her cheek. She tore away the vine and scrabbled for a foot-hold, falling to one knee on the loose shale.

  “Shit, Kelskar. Where are you?”

  Oh, thank God. He stood at the far edge of the gap, backlit by morning sun. A tall figure, arms held out from his side. One hand dangling a knife with negligent calm from loose fingers. Her brain sketched the outline, fitting it to Kelskar, immediately remaking the image as someone else.

  A straggle haired stranger, lankier than Kelskar with a thinner build and looking straight at her.

  Don’t scream. Janie choked down the sound. Her chest heaved and for one agonising second every single self-defence class instruction she’d ever learned fled from her mind. A knife could be thrown. The guy looked too tall to be outrun.

  If she called out for Kelskar, she’d give away his position too.

  “Heard tell some new pussy landed.” She didn’t recognise the guttural, clipped accent. The man lifted a hand, twitching his fingers in invitation. The distorting half-light tinted the wide flat plane of his forehead with blue shadow, jumbled his features so they sat too low on his face.

  Or was her fevered imagination conjuring monsters out of panic?

  “Here, pussy, pussy. Papa’s here.”

  A crackling, like static rippled at the base of her skull, where her kidnappers stuck in the translation module. She had no clue how it worked. The guy looked like no human she’d ever met and yet the words coming from his mouth held a threat she understood with perfect clarity.

  “Can smell you, chuaca. Smell good.”

  A ripple of revulsion snapped her out of paralysis. Kick him in the balls then run. The man had somehow managed to move closer without lifting his feet. Janie breathed and he moved again. Blinked and saw only empty space. Where did he go? A trick of the light, it must be. Never mind heroics, run. The thought had barely formed in her head when a wiry forearm snaked across her breasts, slamming her into a thick, wadded coat.

  Her ragged gasp bounced off the walls, mocking her stupidity for not turning tail when she could. The cool, slim blade kissed her throat. She froze, knowing better than to argue with a knife.

  “I twitch my fingers, you a dead chuaca. Be still for Papa.”

  Strands of slimy hair greased her cheek. The man’s wiry beard stank of rancid fish. He pressed his nose into her neck and sniffed deeply, whistling breath hot on her skin.

  “Smell your man on you, chuaca. Now I sell you back to him. He don’t pay, there be plenty will.”

  A sliver of light glinting off the opposite wall promised escape, but to where? How the hell did she get away from a strong man holding a knife so close to her throat she didn’t dare swallow for fear that alone would slice her wide open?

  “I’ll come with you. Don’t hurt me, I’m alone.” She stammered out the words, wishing with all her heart she’d wake up from this nightmare. Could she unsheathe the sword before he slit her throat? No way.

  Kelskar, where are you?

  “Oh, you coming with me, chuaca.” A wet tongue circled her cheek. “You’ll make me nice trade.”

  “I think not. Let her go.” Another man’s voice overlaid the whispering echoes. Kelskar. Overwhelming relief tangled with shame. She’d fallen at the first hurdle like some pathetic Victorian heroine. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  Her assailant’s deep, vibrating laugh rumbled over her. “I hold knife to this honey’s throat. I decide who buy her. What you offering?”

  “Your life.”

  Kelskar stepped into view, fully armed, his stance rigid and unwavering. The knife stung her throat, shoving upwards by degrees. She’d be dead before Kelskar took another step.

  The Corporation wouldn’t want this. What would be the point of killing her so soon? A rational thought trickled through the mayhem jumbling her brain. Were they filming this too, confident Kelskar could take down the danger they set up for them?

  “You selling me my own life?” The answer held a hint of confusion, a pause. Her assailant burst into a noisy guffaw. “I like your style, but you new here. You don’t know the rules.”

  “No, you mistake me. I make the rules.” Something flashed and fluttered in Janie’s peripheral vision, arcing over and over, ending on a silent rush of air at her cheek. The fingers grasping the knife slackened, the arm banding her chest fell away. Janie stumbled, instinctively throwing herself sideways away from the trembling blade.

  A creaking groan, like a door in need of oiling filled the space. She stilled, pinned by horrified fascination at the sight of her assailant’s body hanging upright for a long moment, Kelskar’s blade pinned neatly in the centre of his protruding forehead. The blue head swivelled, glaring at her with accusing eyes. Then the man crumpled, loose and limp to the gritty ground.

  Janie slammed a hand over her mouth, barely aware of the thump of Kelskar’s feet charging across the space. He dropped to his knees beside her, taking her chin, too roughly, tilting it to the left and right.

  “He didn’t cut you, thank the gods.” Her vision darkened, muffled by his jacket hiding the dead body from view.

  Bloody hell, she was lying next to a dead body. If Kelskar had missed, that would be her head wearing the grisly crimson halo.

  “You killed him.” She shoved Kelskar away, sucking in a heaving breath. “I can’t believe you killed him.” Relief, accusation? She had no idea what to do with the swirling feelings running riot inside of her. “What if you’d missed and hit me?”

  “I never miss.” Kelskar held her loosely, no doubt in his answer. Above his head, a smaller hovering box dipped for a closer look, lights blinking like malevolent eyes. He flicked it a disdainful glance then reached out to cup her cheek. His clear eyes glittered like watery pools in the wavering light. “Janie, I never miss. C
ome, we have to go.”

  “Just like that?”

  Okay, enough, her body screamed. Starved by weirdos, dropped onto a hostile alien planet. Sex with this stranger who changed her whole world and then someone threatened to slit her throat?

  “Just like that?” she yelled, channelling the surging adrenaline, throwing it at Kelskar full force. The wrong target, but she needed to scream, to yell and blame someone and he knelt there beside her telling her it was okay, he never missed?

  Get a grip, Janie. He saved your life. Scary things happened around this man, but he would always save her life.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “When you know me better, you will understand there was nothing to fear from my action.”

  “You’re right.” She let go in a long sigh, giving him her weight. What did she know about him, really? Only what he told her, what he showed her. “What you did just then. So sure you wouldn’t hit me. Was that you, or that thing in your head?”

  “Death has always been my art.” He hooked an arm under her knees. She pushed him away.

  “No, I can stand.” A valuable lesson learned. Don’t be caught out, paralysed by fear again. Kelskar stood, nodding his ascent. He turned his attention to the fallen body, stripping off the satchel slung low on the man’s back. Janie rolled, balancing on all fours then shoved upward on wobbling legs.

  “What did you mean, death has always been your art?” Kelskar withdrew a fistful of berries from the pouch. Put one in his mouth and chewed.

  “Gladiator Kelskar, or the man I was before. Death is the one certainty that binds them. Of that I’m sure. There’s food in this pouch. Berries, leaves, dried meat. Come and eat.”

  “Give me a moment.” Her stomach clenched in protest. Her brain demanded to know who the hell could eat anything with a dead body lying at their feet.

  “It will make you feel better.” Kelskar jammed a hunk of something suspiciously resembling shoe leather into his mouth, pausing a moment to savour it. “Old, but it means there are edible beasts in this place. Here. Eat woman, you need food.”