Alien Sacrifice (Zerconian Warriors Book 9)

by Sadie Carter

  He moved into his house. “Annabel?”

  The house was quiet. He stepped into the lounge and found her stuff strewn everywhere. “Annabel?”

  The door to the balcony was open, and he stepped outside, relief filling him as he found her sitting on one of the wide chairs, a glass of Sola in her hand.

  “Annabel?”

  “You know, you really need some cushions for these chairs, they’re kinda hard to sit on for any length of time.”

  “Annabel, are you well?” He eyed the nearly empty bottle of Sola resting on the small table beside her.

  “Well? Sure, I’m well. Come to check on the prisoner, did you?”

  “Prisoner?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Macon. I remember. You gave me that damn truth serum, guess it wiped more than just a few hours from my memory, huh?”

  “Yes, but I am glad to see it was temporary.”

  “Are you?” She wouldn’t look up at him. Instead, she continued to stare out at the horizon. “Why am I here? What was the plan? To keep me locked up here, make me believe I was your mate so I’d spill my guts?”

  “Spill your guts?” That did not sound healthy. He was growing alarmed by the lack of emotion in her voice.

  “Yeah, talk. Tell you everything. I’ve had some time to think this over and I think I’ve figured it out. But feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. If I told you everything when I was under the influence of the serum then why am I here? Why aren’t I being shipped back to Earth?” Now she stared up at him. “So I’m guessing I didn’t tell you anything. So you guys thought you’d pretend we were mated, hoping I’d tell you everything. Not the best plan you had, huh? And kind of a bitch thing to do to Hagartha. Why didn’t they choose some other flunky to pretend to be my mate?”

  “How much Sola have you had?”

  She glanced down at her glass and shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? Not like I have anywhere I have to be in the morning.” She waved her hand out, nearly knocking over the bottle of Sola next to her. “What else is there to do in this prison but drink myself stupid? I guess at least I have a pretty view and plenty of booze. Better than the prisons back home. There I’d just catch some nasty disease.”

  “Annabel, give me the glass.” He moved closer, holding out his hand.

  “Huh? Nope, don’t think so. I’m drinking until I forget.”

  “Forget what?” As he grew closer, he realized she was far more intoxicated that he had first thought.

  “Forget you. Forget this damn place. Until my body calms the fuck down and doesn’t want to jump you. I could.” She looked him up and down. “I’m horny enough that I don’t even seem to care that you despise me. I could jump you, climb you like a tree and fuck you. God, the irony. The first man I’ve been attracted to in months and you can’t stand the sight of me.”

  If only that was true. But all he could think of lately was her. She was a traitor. A spy. The enemy. And yet, he wanted to pick her up, hold her close, and protect her from any hurt.

  “I should hate you. But I do not.” Stars. He had not meant to tell her that.

  “Huh? But you think I’m a spy. That I leaked a document. Of course, you hate me.”

  “I do not hate you. You are undisciplined. You talk too much. You laugh too loud. You are far too fragile and breakable, and your scent disturbs me.”

  “Jeez, anything else?”

  “Yes, you are too short. But I do not hate you.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  He could not believe they were having this argument. He took a deep breath in then let it out slowly.

  “It’ll never work out, Macon.”

  “What?”

  “Us. You’re black and white, and I’m gray.”

  Now she wasn’t even making sense. He reached out and took the glass from her hand.

  “Hey! Give that back.”

  “No.” Reaching out, he grabbed her. She attempted to fight him, but her blows were weak and uncoordinated. He pulled her up and swung her over his shoulder.

  “Let me down!”

  “You need to lie down.”

  “I told you. We won’t work out. You hate me. You think I’m a traitor. You already have a mate. We can’t be mates.”

  And yet he could feel his body heating, the rightness at the feel of her skin against his.

  He’d wanted a calm, orderly life. He certainly didn’t want a female who he couldn’t trust, who he didn’t understand, who would only create chaos and confusion in his life.

  But perhaps all she needed was a steady influence. Someone to give her boundaries. Rules.

  He laid her gently on the bed.

  “We’re not having sex,” she told him.

  “No, we are not.”

  She stuck out her lower lip. Tears filled her eyes. “Because you hate me.”

  He sighed. “You are intoxicated.”

  “I just had a few drinks. God, can’t a girl just drink to forget?” She placed her arm over her eyes. “I’m really horny.”

  Her nipples were pressed against her top, and he could smell the sweet scent of her desire.

  She sat up and quickly straddled his legs with hers, pressing her breasts against his chest. His cock strained his desire climbing.

  “We really should have sex.”

  He longed to push her back on the bed, to strip her naked and drive his shaft inside her. But not when she was like this.

  “No.” He gently pulled her off him and stood. He needed to get out of here. Fast. Before he forgot all of his good intentions. “Get some sleep. I will see you in the morning.”

  ***

  Annabel’s head was thumping so hard, it made her feel nauseous. She opened one eye, staring around. Sunlight blasted her, and she slammed her eye shut.

  “Blinds closed,” she croaked out, groaning with relief as the room was quickly darkened. She opened her eyes slowly, then rolled onto her back, breathing shallowly to prevent her stomach from expelling its contents.

  What the hell had she done last night? She frowned, trying to think.

  Oh fuck. Oh, God.

  That’s right. Her memory had returned while she was going through her belongings. She’d remembered Macon coming to remove her from her quarters. Being interrogated by Dex and Koran. The truth serum.

  Then Macon had brought her back here, pretending to be her mate. Asshole. Like she’d ever believe they were mates, he could barely stand her.

  Too bad, she didn’t feel the same way. Sick of pacing the floors, horny and stressed, she’d decided to get drunk instead.

  “Stupid, stupid idea.”

  She should have been coming up with an exit plan. Instead, she’d drunk herself stupid, then Macon had come home, and she’d…oh hell no. Had she tried to seduce him? Seriously? What had she been thinking?

  “I wasn’t thinking. I was drunk and horny. Baaad combination.”

  What was she going to do? Now that her memory had returned would they take her back to the interrogation room? Would they try something else to get the truth from her?

  Why had they chosen Macon to pretend to be her mate? It was obvious he detested her, and he had already decided to mate Hagartha. What must she think of Annabel being here?

  If the tables were turned, Annabel would be livid.

  The door to her room slid open, and she stared over as Macon entered, a tray of food in his hands. She placed her hand over her mouth as the smell hit her. Her stomach curdled, and she jumped up, racing into the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet as she emptied her stomach. She shook and barely held in a groan. Gross. Ick.

  A cold cloth was applied to the back of her neck, and her hair was pulled back and secured at the back of her neck.

  “Please go away, this is humiliating enough without you watching me.”

  “You are ill. I cannot leave you in this state.”

  “I’m not ill, just hungover and I want to die alone, thanks very much.”

  “You are not dying,” he sa
id with some alarm. “I will get Racar.”

  “No.” She turned and groaned as the sharp movement send waves of pain through her head. “I’m not ill. Just too much Sola. I need some water, and I’ll be fine.”

  He frowned. “You will not drink so much again.”

  She snorted. “I could tell you I’m never going to drink again, but it would be a lie.”

  “You will not drink so much Sola again. I will not have you ill like this.”

  “Not sure why you care. Not like you’re the one with a blinding headache, worshiping the toilet on your knees.”

  “It is not healthy to drink so much.”

  “Thanks, Dad, I’ll take that on board.”

  “I am not your father.”

  “No? You sure like to lecture like one. Macon, could I have a bit of privacy?”

  “I have to go out.”

  “Nobody is stopping you.”

  “I do not like to leave you when you are ill.”

  Ah, that was kind of sweet. And weird, because Macon and sweet didn’t go together.

  “I’m fine. I’m going back to bed to sleep this off.”

  “I will return in a few hours. You will not leave the masic.”

  “What? Not even to pee?” She stood slowly and rinsed out her mouth.

  “You may get up to use the bathroom.”

  “Jeez, you’re too kind.”

  Chapter Eight

  Annabel stared over the edge of the balcony. Shit. Was she really planning on doing this?

  What choice did she have? She couldn’t get past the guards or alarm. Now that her memory had returned, she’d half-expected someone to come and drag her out of Macon’s house back down to the interrogation room.

  Instead, days had passed and nothing. She’d been kept locked up inside this house. Her only access to the outside world was Macon and she’d barely seen him. When she did, he was about as friendly and cheerful as ever.

  If this was their latest interrogation technique, to send her mad by keeping her in near isolation, it was kind of working.

  Her body was on fire, and it was only getting worse. Arousal flooded her system in ever-increasing waves. She recalled Zoey’s words about how her body had gone into arousal overdrive when she and Dex hadn’t completed their mating. But Macon couldn’t really be her mate? Could he?

  She wiped at her sweating brow. She needed to get a message out to Rich. No matter what else was going on, it was imperative he knew that her cover was blown. After she did that, she’d deal with everything else. Macon included.

  But to get a communication to Rich, she had to first get out of this house. She’d tried hacking into the comms system in the house, but it was on an internal system with no access to the outside world.

  There was only one way out, and that was down. She’d been studying the cliff face for the last two days. It wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. There were places where she should be able to get a good foothold. The major problem was that the balcony jutted straight out from the house, so there was a large five-foot gap between the edge of the balcony and the cliff.

  Which meant she’d somehow have to swing herself down to reach the cliff.

  She looked down at the makeshift rope she’d assembled. Would it hold her? She’d fastened together all the sheets she could find in the house.

  It would have to hold her.

  She tied one end to the railing, the other end around her waist. Then she climbed over the railing and dangled her legs over the edge.

  No time like the present, she guessed.

  ***

  “Macon.”

  Macon paused as Dex approached him.

  “How is Annabel?”

  “Nothing has changed since my last report. She has not spoken of who sent her and why.” He attempted to move away.

  “Wait.”

  Macon paused, biting back his irritation.

  “I was not asking if she had spoken of her reasons for being here. I meant how is she? We have not seen her in days. Zoey went to see her yesterday, and she refused to let her in.”

  Had she? Annabel hadn’t told him that. But then, he had hardly seen her lately, had he? Guilt stirred. He’d deliberately kept his distance because of the feelings she stirred. Things he didn’t think he should feel. He shouldn’t want her. Not when he was committed to Hagartha. Annabel was the opposite of everything he had ever wanted.

  And yet she was all he could think about.

  “She is well.”

  “Is she?” Dex pressed. “Because you have not mated her yet, have you? Is she showing signs of mating fever? The longer you leave it, the worse it will grow for both of you.”

  Macon frowned. “We do not know if we are mates.”

  Even he could hear the doubt in his words.

  “Deny it all you want, but I have had reports of how volatile you have grown. You are my least volatile warrior. You always keep a calm head, no matter what situation. You need to do something about this before the mating fever overcomes you both. I wish to see Annabel. I will come visit tomorrow morning.”

  “You wish to interrogate her?” He did not like that idea. He would not allow anyone to intimidate her.

  “I wish to ascertain her health.”

  Her health? Macon gaped after him. Was he trying to imply that Annabel was not being taken care of? Except she wasn’t, was she? Because he was never around. He did not know if she was eating or sleeping properly.

  He had been headed to the training room, but he decided he should check on her first. He headed towards his house. After checking in with the guards, he walked inside.

  “Annabel? Annabel?” Alarm filled him. Something was wrong. His instincts were screaming at him as he raced through the house, searching for her. He raced out onto the balcony, coming to a stop as he saw the sheets tied around the base of one of the railings.

  What the stars?

  ***

  Right, so this was not the brightest idea she’d ever had. She clung to the cliff, unable to move. She was kind of surprised she’d managed to swing herself over to the cliff, but the landing had been harder than she’d expected and she’d scratched her hands and face against the rough surface. When she’d managed to get a foothold, she’d realized she couldn’t undo the sheets around her waist while clinging to the side of the cliff. So she was stuck here.

  “Holy fuck, Annabel, you’ve really done it this time.” Where was her head? It wasn’t like her to be this stupid. She was supposed to be smarter than this.

  “Annabel! Annabel!”

  She winced as Macon screamed down at her. Well, on the one hand, at least she wouldn’t be stuck out here for another few hours. On the other hand, it was kind of humiliating to be caught.

  “Down here,” she called up. She glanced up to find him peering down at her. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but she could guess.

  “What do you do there?”

  “Uh, well, I thought I’d get some fresh air, a bit of exercise, seemed like a good day to do some abseiling.”

  “What?”

  “Macon, I’m stuck. Will you please just figure out a way to help me up?”

  “Stay there.”

  “Now that’s an easy promise to make,” she muttered. Her shoulders were tense, her arms strained as she clung to the cliff.

  There was noise above her, and she looked up at find the two guards as well as Macon standing on the balcony above her.

  “And now my humiliation is complete.”

  Macon climbed over the edge of the balcony. Unlike her, he had a harness attached to him and was connected by a rope. The other warriors lowered him over the edge.

  “Swing me over,” he yelled up as he grew parallel with her.

  They swung him over, and he nearly reached her. One more swing and he managed to land beside her, easily finding a foothold.

  “Hey,” she said weakly.

  He gave her an incredulous look.

  “So, it’s
a nice view out here.”

  “Do not speak unless it is necessary,” he said in a clipped voice. “I am going to climb over you. Stay still.”

  “Roger that. Sorry, I’m not going to talk.”

  He climbed over her and immediately, she felt safer. Damn, that pissed her off. She’d never relied on anyone else to make her feel safe. She relied on herself. End of story.

  “I’m going to slice through this sheet then I will hold onto you while they pull us up.”

  Fuck. She hated feeling helpless. Relying on someone else to save her. She felt like a damsel in distress. But what choice did she have?

  He quickly sliced through the sheet then grabbed her waist. “Let go.”

  She took a deep breath in then out. Crap. She couldn’t let go. Her hands just would move, they were frozen.

  “Annabel, let go,” he said impatiently.

  “I’m trying,” she snapped back. “It’s not that easy.”

  He was silent for a moment then leaned in, so his breath tickled her ear. “I will not let you drop.”

  “I didn’t think you would.” She sniffed. But it was suddenly easier to get her hands to move. She let go of the cliff face, gasping slightly as Macon pushed back, sending them airborne.

  Her legs dangled in the air, the only thing standing between her and certain death was Macon’s arm around her waist.

  “I have you, Annabel.”

  “I know. I know.”

  ***

  Macon stood across the room, glowering down at Annabel who sat on the sofa, sipping on a hot drink, her hands wrapped in bandages. News of her near-accident had quickly spread, and he had only just gotten rid of Racar, Dex, and Zoey who had rushed over. After hearing the story recounted, Dex had given him a frowning glare, as if this was his fault.

  He was not the one who had foolishly put himself in danger by climbing over the balcony.

  But was he the reason she was so desperate to leave? Had she risked her life to get away from him? That did not sit well with him at all. Had he treated her so badly?

  Racar had attempted to bandage her hands himself, but his touch had caused her nothing but pain. Unable to stand her hurting, Macon had nudged him aside and treated her hands himself, scolding her the entire time.