by Linda Mooney
“Yeah.”
She saw him nod as they aimed for the road. It was an odd little sequence of movements she was doing with him: scurrying hunched over for several yards; then stopping to check around them to see if they’d been spotted before advancing again. Although she would rather have made a full-out run for his truck, she knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her.
They finally reached the road. He helped her up into the driver’s side. She climbed over to the passenger seat, and he jumped in behind her. Both of them were wet and muddy, but it didn’t matter. Challa never took her eyes off the man who carefully maneuvered the truck onto the road, turned it around, and drove them away from the carnival and away from town.
They remained in silent companionship while he drove. She could see determination in every line of his face. He was worried for her as the scent of apples hovered in the air between them. Compton glanced at her. “What?”
“Why?” The word popped out of her from nowhere. They were safe for the moment, but for how long?
“Why, what? Why are we heading this way?”
She glanced down the road. It looked like a hundred other one-lane, long and narrow back country roads she’d been on. Another seemingly endless blacktop leading from one town to another.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m heading over to FM 616. From there, I’ll cut across and hit Mount Hope, loop back around, cut across the Interstate, and come into Cooper through the back door to town. It’ll mean another half-hour before we get home, but I was afraid McManus might have a road block set up if we tried to go back the other way.” He glanced at her again. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“You’re shivering.”
“Am I?” She hadn’t noticed. In fact, she hadn’t noticed anything about herself other than the fact that she was leaning over the center console that separated them. She watched Compton reach out and turn on the heater. Warm air blew up her legs.
“Better?”
“Yes. Thank you. Compton?”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
He chuckled. His worry hadn’t lessened, but she could smell another scent starting to overtake it, a fruity smell. Light, fresh, fragrant. Challa felt her hopes rising. He cared about her. He honestly cared.
But does he love me? Can he love me?
“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Challa. Why what? Why am I going to all this trouble?”
“Yes.”
He started to answer her, but the words never made it past his lips. Another minute passed. Finally she heard him take a deep breath and noisily let it out.
“Challa, please don’t take this wrong.” He paused to see if she would say something. When she didn’t, he continued. “I care about you,” he admitted.
Her heart started pounding. The sweet, pungent smell of bananas, of his need to care for her, was growing stronger. Challa fought back tears.
“Compton.”
“No…let me finish what I want to say. What I have to say.” He cleared his throat. They came to a stop sign. He slowed the truck and kept his foot on the brake so he could look at her. “Challa, I had planned on asking you to come over to my place tonight after the show. I never thought it would be under these circumstances.”
She reached up to touch his face. He never flinched as her blades lightly brushed his cheek and temple. Compton leaned closer, and she saw his nostrils flare. Slowly, inevitably, they touched lips. It was a soft kiss, but it sealed so much between them.
“I…there’s so much I want to ask you,” he murmured. His breath tickled her mouth, making her smile.
“Ask away.”
“No. Not here. Wait.” He pulled away to continue driving, but she could tell he had done so reluctantly.
They said no more until they reached the outskirts of town. Challa saw the population sign pass by. A moment later, they were driving slowly down the center of the main street. With the exception of a few lights left glowing inside some of the shops, the town was empty, closed for the night. Vacant and lifeless, and very foreboding.
They were nearly out of town again when Compton passed a church and turned down a side street. The street remained paved for several hundred feet before it became dirt. It continued to wind between trees and pastures. A mailbox came into view with the name Scott on the side. Compton slowed and turned into the drive. The truck’s wheels rumbled over the cattle guard, and Challa watched as the long, ranch-style house came into view. He pulled the truck under the carport and killed the engine. Looking at her, he waited to see what her first reaction would be.
“Is this your house?”
“It was my parents’. I grew up here.”
“Where are your parents now?”
He didn’t answer her until he got out of the vehicle and walked around to open her door for her. “My dad died when I was in high school. Mom passed away while I was stationed overseas.”
He led her through a door that opened into a kitchen, flipping on the light switch as they entered. Gesturing to a chair, Compton asked if she’d like something to drink.
“Oh, yes. Please.”
He got the water from a dispenser in the door of the refrigerator. Challa accepted the glass with thanks. While she drank, he took the seat next to her at the table. His eyes studied the way she held the slippery glass. His examination was intense and precise. She wondered how long it would take for him to figure out the truth.
Compton held out a hand. “May I?” He wanted to examine her hand, more specifically her talons. Setting her glass down on the table, she held out her hand to him. Her stomach clenched with dread and anticipation.
His hands were warm as he scrutinized her fingers one at a time, then the palm, all the way to the wrist. Challa breathed deeply, searching for any hint to what he was thinking. More importantly, she had to know how he was feeling because they would alert her to what he would do next. The air grew smoky as he gradually grew wary and suspicious.
She found him staring at her with curiosity. “I don’t see a seam.” His thumb rasped hard over the back of her hand then he glanced at the ball of his thumb. “If it’s makeup, it doesn’t rub off easily.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Challa…what the hell is going on? The truth, now.”
“You’re right. You deserve to know. All of it,” she whispered. “You’ve risked too much already to help me.” She had no idea she was crying until Compton reached over and captured her tear. She grabbed his hand before he could pull it away and pressed a kiss to it, bowing her head. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face him. If he rejected her with his fear or his disgust, there was no way her heart could survive if she watched it come over him.
Taking another deep breath, she nodded as she stared at the wood grain in the table. “The truth is… Compton, I’m a real alien.”
He didn’t pull away his hand, but neither did he say anything. Still, she continued to keep her head bowed, too terrified to look up at him. She had no idea how long they remained that way until he sighed and gently disengaged his hand.
“Okay. There’s no reason why you would lie to me, or tell me such an outlandish story unless it was true. But could you explain something to me?”
Slowly, Challa lifted her face until she could see the perplexed look in his brown eyes.
“If you’re really an alien, why the hell do I feel this way about you?”
She tried to answer, but her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “Feel about me?”
“Yeah. Truth for a truth, Challa. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Chapter 14
Reveal
Challa stared at him, not sure she’d heard him correctly. Compton continued to watch her, study her, taking in all the differences of her true self while he waited for her reaction.
She couldn’t help but smile. “You love me?”
“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Or if I’m not there yet,
I’m pretty damn close.” His eyes roamed over her face. “A real, honest-to-God alien?”
“Yeah.”
He paused. “I’ve kissed an alien?”
Challa nodded once. “You are my true mate. My blood mate.”
“True mate? Is that like your one and only?”
She was trembling so hard, her voice shook as she answered. “For my kind, we take only one life partner.”
“Guess that explains why you’re such a neophyte at kissing.”
She frowned. “A what?” Challa never noticed his other hand going past her shoulder until he gently guided her head toward him.
The kiss was tender, but not without a sense of controlled passion. Somehow she could tell he was holding back. He tasted slightly of cola, but his sweet, syrupy breath was dwarfed by the tangy lemonade scent coming from him. Before she was aware of her actions, Challa lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck.
The table disappeared. Compton got to his feet, pulling her up with him until he could slide his arms all the way around her and hold her firmly against him. His breathing accelerated and the caring lemonade smell took on the heavier, richer scent of vanilla. The unmistakable sign of lust.
She had no idea how cold she’d been until she was lifted along the heated length of his body. He was solid strength, unbending and unyielding to everything except her. She soaked in him, and reveled in his nearness and the way he took possession of her. His lips savored hers as he stroked her mouth with light, almost playful kisses. As he carefully teethed her lower lip, he gave a breathy chuckle.
“Grandma, what big teeth you have. You know, you could do some serious damage to me with those.”
Grandma? Challa lifted her face and opened her eyes to look at him. Laughter danced in his gaze. “I could never hurt you,” she confessed.
“I was teasing.”
“Oh.”
Compton reared his head back slightly. “You’re not used to being teased, are you?”
Challa shook her head. “My friends…they…”
“How many friends do you have, Challa?” he suddenly asked her. “How many people know what you really are?”
She tried to answer, but Compton beat her to it.
“One? Two? A dozen?”
“Lawson.”
He looked surprised. “Just him? Why just him?”
“He…he’s the one who caught me.”
“Caught you? How?”
“I broke into the kitchen trailer for some food. I thought it was safe. Everyone was at the show.”
“You were an alien when he caught you?”
“Yes.”
It felt unbelievably gratifying to tell him everything. It was wonderful to be able to open herself up to this man who listened without criticizing, without interruption. Without condemnation. To confess everything without restraint.
“Why were you alien, Challa, instead of human?” He frowned again, as if he’d just thought of something. “When you’re human, is that a costume?”
“No. It’s me.”
This time Compton released her and took a step back in shock. “How?”
“I…”
It wouldn’t help to try and explain. Challa knew he had to be shown. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too alarming for him to witness all at once.
“Watch me,” she said.
She did it slowly, letting him see something that even Lawson Hall had never witnessed. Compton took another step back in order to check her out from head to toe, but he never removed his hands from where they were resting on her waist. When she finished, she waited for him to make the next move.
“You’re a shape shifter.”
“That’s what Lawson calls me. That and a pod person, whatever that means.”
One corner of Compton’s mouth lifted as he snorted. “It’s a movie reference, Challa.”
“About aliens?”
He chuckled again. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He ran a hand through her thick red locks. “How are you able to be human, Challa?”
“It’s something my people can do,” she answered. “I don’t know why we can change our form. We just can. We see someone we want to look like, and we…match them.” She dropped her gaze as memories from the ship floated to the surface.
* * * *
It wasn’t Kreesi waiting for them. It was a boll dremlin from Ga Tu Feenova IV. It slobbered and gnashed its rows of spinal teeth with hungry anticipation.
When the younglings hurried into the section of the ship where their teacher had ordered them to meet her, they stopped and froze in place in stark fear. Challa screamed and tried to run out of the cabin, but a female figure blocked her way.
It was the young woman known as Tiron. The female nearly everyone avoided because of her temper and her past. Of all the Ruinos on the ship, Tiron had been the unmated female most severely abused by the Arra. Challa had only heard about some of the atrocities the woman had been forced to endure, and her heart wept in sympathy.
On the tiny escape ship, there was no way to avoid anyone. No one spoke about the years they had spent as prisoners of the Arra. Most of all, the mere sight of some people brought back memories of the pain and degradation they’d all suffered. For that reason, Tiron was among those shunned.
Challa never expected Tiron to reach out and snag her shoulder, preventing her from bolting from the room. “Don’t be afraid, Challa. At least, not here on the ship. There isn’t anything to be afraid of anymore, kolli.” Tiron smiled at her, then turned and left the cabin. Challa stared at her in amazement as she heard laughter coming from behind her. She turned around to see Kreesi standing where the boll dremlin had been. The other younglings were giggling with delight at the trick that had been pulled on them, and at Challa’s embarrassment.
“It’s time you learned about your abilities.” The old woman smiled. “It’s time you learned how to use them and how to control them. Now, come back here and get ready for your lessons. All of you.” Gesturing to Challa, Kreesi said, “Why don’t you go first?”
* * * *
Compton pulled her back into his embrace, guiding her head to his shoulder. His hand continued to comb through her hair with long, slow strokes. Challa rubbed her cheek on his jacket.
“What else can you do?” he murmured.
“Like what?”
He gave an easy shrug. “I don’t know. Invisibility? Can you read minds? Shoot bolts of energy from your fingers?”
The visual image Challa got from his comment made her laugh. “No. I’m only a Ruinos. I can’t do any of that stuff.”
He sighed loudly and pulled away from her. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. We have a lot to discuss.”
Chapter 15
Loving
Challa glanced around the living room, realizing that the place made her feel welcome. Comfortable. The furniture was well used but in good condition. The sofa had a hand-crocheted afghan draped over the back. The two leather chairs were shiny from much use. The hardwood floors had woven rag rugs scattered around it. The far wall had a fireplace, and to the far right of it was a door leading to a hallway. She glanced up at Compton, who had turned on a table lamp and was gesturing toward the couch.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll start a fire.”
He waited for her to sit down. Once she curled her legs underneath her, he pulled the afghan from behind her and wrapped her in it. Compton grinned. “Warm enough?”
“Yeah.” She smiled back.
He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and turned his attention to getting a fire going in the rock fireplace. It didn’t take long. Compton brushed his hands together once he was done and joined Challa on the sofa, pulling her against him until she was nestled along his side.
He turned off the lamp, and they watched the fire in silence. Every so often Compton would plant a kiss on top of her hair. The room was replete with fruity smells. The crackling fire was soporific. Pressed against Compton’s side, Challa fe
lt cocooned in his love. She was floating, separated from her body, and on the verge of falling asleep when he spoke, his voice echoing inside his chest.
“Challa? Challa, don’t go to sleep on me just yet.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. Compton sucked in his breath as he stared down at her. “The way your eyes glitter…that’s just freaky.” He frowned, and she realized he was thinking. “You can see in the dark?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. Challa…do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
The comment earned her a smile.
* * * *
She was staring up at him with absolute trust. With those eerily beautiful blue and purple eyes. Alien eyes. Shadows from the flames dancing on their surfaces illuminated the flecks until they sparkled like swirling bits of glass.
As if his palms weren’t sweaty enough, he felt like he was burning up. Challa had no idea how much she was affecting him, and he couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way. Once he’d gotten over the shock that she was a genuine alien, having her in his arms felt natural and perfect. Alien or not, she felt like the lost puzzle piece he’d been searching for all his life. With her, he was finally complete. A whole man emotionally and mentally, if not physically.
Incredibly, it was the physical part that was knocking him for a loop. He could not remember the last time he’d had such a massive hard-on as he did at this moment. For the love of Pete, the girl wasn’t even a real girl, and his dick felt like it could pile drive fence posts into the ground.
And if that wasn’t news enough, Compton felt as if he’d just been juiced up with a hundred CCs of testosterone. The man who had been First Lieutenant Compton James Scott had emerged from his chrysalis, no longer the post-pubescent high school nerd who had enlisted soon after graduation. Or the man with two medals and a handful of commendations who had retreated back into another shell after the explosion that took his comrades and his leg.
No, not retreated. More like withdrew. The Army officer had sealed himself inside his damaged shell. After being released from the hospital, First Lieutenant Scott traded in his helmet and flak jacket for jeans and a ball cap, and made way for civilian Compton Scott. Made way for the old him to slink back into regular life and a normal, comfortable routine, and face the same prospects as he had four years ago.
