A child was any person under the age of eighteen. If she didn’t want to get married, she sure as hell didn’t want a baby just to exempt herself from the terms of the treaty. Yikes.
Healthy was defined as being fertile and capable of carrying a pregnancy to term. Hmm. Kol had seemed awfully concerned that Penny was malnourished. He constantly shoved those ration bars in her face. Was she healthy enough now? She had always been robust before the invasion and hardly ever had a cold or the flu. She might have a vitamin deficiency but that was easy enough to fix.
Protections for women were also built into the treaty. No woman could be tested without her consent. Women were allowed to volunteer for testing as often as they liked, but they were only mandated to test once a year, the manner of which to be determined by their local government. No woman could be tested before Suhlik hostilities ceased. Most importantly, no Mahdfel was allowed to claim a mate until major conflict with the Suhlik ended.
Interesting. Even if she agreed to Kol’s insane claim on her, they couldn’t do anything about it until the war was over. That bought her some time.
The treaty said nothing about a love match. It had to happen. People were people, wherever they came from, and when people mingled, they flirted, hooked up and could even fall in love. So what happened if a woman fell for a Mahdfel warrior? Could they bypass the genetic testing and marry or would that violate the terms of the treaty? Penny wanted to ask but was afraid her question might give Kol the wrong idea. She decided it was better to keep her mouth shut and figure it out if it came to that. She didn’t her questions to give Kol ideas.
The days stretched with little to do. Kol worked on his comm unit but could never seem to make contact with his people. Penny fiddled with her radio but couldn’t make anything out through the static. She taught Kol how to play chess. He picked up the game of strategy easily and claimed that his people had a similar game. It was a tool used to teach battlefield tactics.
When he wasn’t patrolling, Kol talked about battle tactics with enthusiasm. He explained theory and well respected maneuvers, often with graphic descriptions of his own experiences. The tactics weren’t just theory for him. They were practical. They were useful.
Kol’s favorite topics were dead boring to her, but Penny wouldn’t complain. She’d spent too many nights alone, longing for anyone to talk to, that she’d happily listen to an alien prattle on about his top three favorite weapons— all rifles, by the way. Kol preferred to keep a distance between himself and the target. His primary function was as a scout for his clan, which is how he came to be on the bridge. He scouted the perimeter, often alone, and used a long-ranged weapon to pick off the Suhlik.
Those were the things she knew now. She had been taking a political history class on European political dogma and revolution, but now she knew that Kol was a sniper and the Viper model packed a hell of a wallop but the recoil made for imprecise targeting. The rifle was a decent choice for a medium range target, but greater distances required greater precision.
To pass the time, she counted the canned food. Kol ate a lot. Like, a lot. Much more than she expected and more, she feared, than she had in reserve, even with the disgusting ration bars. She could skip a meal or two and be fine. Her butt had plenty of cushion and wasn’t going away anytime soon. She tried to be subtle about it. Kol would hand her a can before tucking into his own. At first she fiddled with the top but never actually opened it. Soon Kol noticed that she wasn’t eating. Now he refused to eat until he saw her put a spoonful of food into her mouth. Often he wouldn’t eat until she finished her own can of cold soup.
Penny moved the cans into columns, separating them into meals. Kol ate three cans for her one and while she could get by on one meal a day, he couldn’t. All that muscle needed energy. Two meals a day, then, and at four cans a meal that was eight cans a day, supplemented with the ration bars. At the current rate, they had two days’ worth of food left.
Fuck.
She should have rationed immediately. She should have worked harder to build her reserves, but how could she know the freaking blizzard would last for days? Blizzards didn’t work that way. At least they hadn’t before the world broke.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Aliens hadn’t been real before and she was just an average college student before. Cell phones and the lights worked before. The faucets worked and the toilets flushed. Aunt Jasmine came home from work every evening at six on the dot, before, but wallowing in self pity wouldn’t stock her larder or put food in her alien’s belly.
Or bring back the dead.
“Pen-knee—” Kol loomed behind her.
She wiped at her eyes, turning to face him. “I’m fine.”
“You are leaking.” Kol’s large finger brushed along the damp tracks on her cheeks. His hands, massive and yet gentle, cradled her head.
“I’m crying, that’s all,” she said. “No big deal.”
He inspected her face, looking for injury. “I do not like it.”
Penny couldn’t fight a giggle. He sounded so serious. “Well, tough. My emotions don’t care if you like them or not.”
“Why do you cry? Tell me and I will destroy it.”
If only it were that easy.
The glow from the heater cast shadows across his heavy features. His tusks were more fearsome in the half light and his eyes completely hidden in shadow. Once she would have considered him a vision from a nightmare; now she saw strength and compassion. The possessiveness she could do without—but mostly strength and compassion.
She wanted to confess that she missed her aunt and desperately wanted to talk to her mother. Constant worry about Jasmine made her sick. Not knowing if she lived or had been killed in a raid tore away at her. Penny had to be strong until it was over, until Jasmine came home, until she could find her parents, but every day spent in the cold and in the dark made it harder to find that strength. Her will to survive was not a bottomless well. She scraped the bottom right now, desperate for anything resembling hope.
“We don’t have enough food,” she managed to say.
Kol handed a can to her. “You do not eat enough.”
“You don’t understand. At the rate we’re going, we only have enough food for two days.”
“I will find more.”
“How? In the middle of this never-ending blizzard?” As the words left her mouth, a hard gust of wind wrapped around the house. The building creaked and a draft slipped down her neck. She adjusted her scarf.
“Is this not normal for Earth?”
“Normal?” It took all Penny’s will not to scream that this was so far beyond fucking normal it would blow his alien mind. She took a deep breath, releasing slowly. “No, this is not normal. Snowstorms usually only last twelve hours—a day at most. We don’t get enough moisture in this part of the country. Maybe on the coast, but not here.”
Kol grunted.
“Wait, that means something,” she said, interest piqued. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“If you suspect the storm is not natural, I have no reason to doubt you.”
“You don’t think— This is the lizards. They did this.” Even as the words left her mouth, it seemed ridiculous. “But how? They control the weather?”
“The storm is interfering with the comm unit.”
“But it was broken.” She wasn’t really surprised that it didn’t work properly. The fact that it could translate was amazing, considering that Kol put it together with half her cell phone and tape.
“It is operational.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you, Big Red.” She looked down at the can in her hand. Beef ravioli, a classic. A scattering of white flakes dusted the top.
She looked up to find snowing drifting through the ceiling. “Well, fuck.”
Kol
Their shelter had been compromised.
“This is not good,” Penny said.
Indeed. The wind had driven snowdrifts over into the house above. Already damaged, the
snow shifted through the floorboards. Water from melting snow would ruin their encampment. He could clear the snow but he would need to cover the floorboards with an impervious material.
Kol scanned their meager pile of supplies for a solution but Penny was already one step ahead of him. She held up the tarp, the same one she’d used to drag him to their shelter. “I need your help,” she said. “I know you don’t like the cold but this will go faster with two.”
“Agreed.”
As Penny donned her coat and gloves, she rattled off her plan to cover the leaking floorboards with the tarp and hold it down with heavy items scavenged from the house. She repeated the phrase “cast irons pans”, so the item must be vital to her strategy. The plan was simple: clear snow, cover, and secure with weights. After the storm, they would need to make permanent repairs, but this would suffice as a temporary measure.
“Ready? The faster we’re done, the faster we can sip hot cocoa,” she said, climbing steps.
“Pen-knee, wait.” He grabbed her elbow to pull her back. “We must discuss the rules of conduct on the battlefield.”
“This is my house, not a battlefield—”
Kol placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. He enjoyed the look of his digit against her soft, plump lips, and yearned to strip off his gloves to feel the heat of her breath against his skin.
“I listened to your plan and now you will listen to me.”
“You’re not my commander,” she breathed.
A grin tugged at his lips. He had always been drawn to a female with a strong will and the ability to take decisive action under pressure. She was made to command and he would follow her across the stars if needed. Given her poor reaction when he’d stated his intention to claim her, he said nothing. He needed to prove himself; he understood this.
“In this situation, I am,” he said. “I will take the lead. I cannot take the communicator with me so I need you to be aware of my direction.”
“We’re just putting a tarp down,” she grumbled.
“And if we are not alone? If I order you back inside?”
“Fine. Point and grunt. I’ll get the picture.”
“Do not risk yourself. Swear to me. I could not bear it if you were injured.” He cradled her head with his hands and searched her eyes for her intentions. He was not a medic, she only had a small medical supply kit, and Terran medicine was primitive at best.
“Okay, okay.” Penny broke his gaze. “You’re in charge for this mission. Happy, Big Red?”
He chuffed with affirmation. Initially he had not appreciated her nickname for him, but he had grown fond of the moniker.
Leading the way, he climbed the stairs, each step growing colder. Penny pressed against his back, pleasing him. His empty hands felt wrong. All his weapons were lost and now he faced the unknown, void of any tool to defend his mate beyond his brawn.
The basement door swung open and the frigid air slapped him in the face. It slithered between the joints in this armor, chilling his flesh. The wind increased in pitch. Below ground in the basement, they were spared the worst. Now he could feel the house shake with each fierce gust. Wind-driven snow filled the room.
He stood in the doorway of the food prep room of the building. Holding an arm out, he blocked Penny in the doorway while he scanned for threats. Natural daylight was diminished due to the storm, but he could make out the counter and cabinets. A light layer of powdery snow covered everything. The room was empty.
He moved to allow Penny access to the room. She gasped. His gaze followed hers to the set of boot prints in the snow.
They were not alone.
The boot prints circled the room, as if the person searched for something. For someone. Kol tracked the path, judging the spot where the interloper paused, perhaps to listen. He and Penny had not exactly been quiet in the last few days, but the wind would have covered their casual conversation.
Penny grabbed his arm and pointed, shouting. The woolen scarf covered her lower face, exposing only her worried eyes. The wind picked up in intensity, masking what Penny tried to communicate. She pointed through the doorway to a far window. A large tree swayed in the wind, but he could see nothing out of the ordinary. The groan of wood was all the warning given.
Glass shattered and wood splintered.
Kol pushed Penny to the floor, covering her with himself. If they were under attack, his damaged armor would be able to absorb some fire. If the armor failed, it was better for him to be hit than Penny. Terrans were too fragile and his was precious. Debris pelted his back, dust and wood enveloped them. Penny wiggled underneath him, protesting.
“Stay down. You swore to obey my command,” he growled.
She stilled at his words. Not his words, he knew, but his tone. He frightened her.
Kol waited for the volley of fire that never came. The wind somehow increased in volume, like a damned creature, and now it was in the building properly. It swirled around them, piercing his armor with a frigid spike in a way that ordinary ammunition could not. Snow, no longer blown in through the damaged wall, now fell freely from the sky.
That was not correct.
Penny’s gloved hand thumped against his shoulder, trying to get his attention. White plaster dusted her knit cap and her hair. “It’s okay. It was the tree,” she said. “The raid damaged it and it was only a matter of time before it fell.”
Kol scrambled off Penny and helped her to her feet. Chunks of plaster slid off his back and shoulders. “Are you injured?” His words were meaningless to her, but his hands skimming her arms and face conveyed his intentions.
“I’m fine. Someone thinks fast on his feet,” Penny said, tone flat and without humor. She adjusted her scarf to cover her mouth and nose.
He observed her motions, searching for any falsehood in her statement with a painful tell in the way she stood, if she favored a foot or pulled a muscle. His form was not insignificant and he’d pushed her to the floor at full strength. Her movements were not stiff or hesitant. Instead her eyes hardened with determination.
Snow fell rapidly, coating the interior of the ruined house. The droplets of melting flakes clung to Penny’s curls.
“I do not like it when you are serious,” he said at length. Penny without humor was Penny without hope and that was unacceptable.
“Whatever you say, Big Red,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the hole in the roof.
Chapter Seven
Penny
Penny gaped in open-mouthed wonder at the hole in the roof. That damned tree finally made good on its promise to smash the roof.
There was no fixing that with a tarp.
Dueling thoughts raced through her mind. They had to move—the house was unstable and could come down, but she couldn’t leave. She needed to wait for Aunt Jasmine to come home. If she wasn’t waiting at home, how would they find each other?
Kol pulled her down the steps into the basement. Once her refuge, it was now a trap. If the house collapsed in the storm, and it very well could, they’d be buried. Even knowing this, she dug her heels in. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay.
Kol tugged on her arm, yanking her forward half a foot, but her feet refused to comply. Sighing, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “What are you doing? Put me down! I am not a sack of potatoes.”
He muttered a reply, lost to the roar of the wind funneling through the house, and patted her on her butt.
“Not cool, Big Red. Not cool.”
He chuckled but her indignation wasn’t hard to produce when he thumped her down on the mattress. “We must leave,” he said, the communicator picking up his words once again. “Pack a bag.”
“When the storm is finished.” If it ever finished.
“Now, Pen-knee.”
She lifted her chin, stubborn and looking for a fight. “No.”
“I will carry you like a sack of potatoes if I must.”
Sure, he managed to hear that in all the wind. “Then you’re going to have t
o carry me.”
He snorted but did not reply; instead he busied himself with filling her backpack with canned goods and the first aid kit.
“You don’t even know where you should go,” she said. Marching blindly out into the storm with no destination was a quick trip to Popsicle City.
“Away from here. This location is compromised.”
“In this storm? We won’t be able to see our hands in front of our faces?”
“My vision is stronger than yours.”
“Snow will blind you just as much as me.”
Kol paused his packing, setting aside the package of extra candles. He knelt at her feet, tail brushing along the side of her shoe. The gesture comforted her, like a slow rub on the shoulder or a squeeze of the hand. “You have agreed to follow my command—” Penny rolled her eyes. “Yet you resist. You will explain this to me.”
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m being a brat. Sorry.”
Now it was his turn to snort and roll his eyes. Gah, it was weird when he did something so ordinary and human.
“I am sorry. It’s just… If I leave here, how will Jasmine find me?” Saying it out loud made her fears sound childish. This was the modern world. A world in the middle of an invasion, yes, but still a world with cell phones and the internet. No one could be lost if they didn’t want to be lost. “I’m sorry. I’m being childish. We can’t stay here.” The roof could collapse under the weight of the snow. Besides, there were those boot prints that wigged Kol out so much. That couldn’t be good.
His knuckles brushed her cheek. “You have been very courageous for a long time on your own.”
“I’ve been lucky, you mean.”
“Having fortune’s favor does not make you less courageous.”
Penny sensed he had more to say but she wasn’t in the mood for a pep talk. “What about those footprints in the snow?” she asked.
Snowed in With the Alien Warlord Page 6
