Snowed in With the Alien Warlord

by Nancey Cummings

  “Another reason to leave.”

  “You think it was Suhlik?”

  “Or another Terran survivor. They did not detect us, which is good, but they will return.” His empty hand flexed, as if gripping something that should be there but wasn’t.

  Message received. Suhlik or human, it didn’t matter. They had no weapons. Kol could easily take down the average human, even armed, but if they cornered Penny, she was toast.

  “Just for the record, I object to going out while the blizzard is in full swing.”

  “Now is the most opportune time, while the storm can mask our tracks.”

  “I understand, but I don’t like it. I have an idea where we can go.” Penny stuffed clothes into a bag. Even with Kol to help carry, she needed to pack light. She would tire quickly walking against the storm. “It’s not far.”

  Kol

  The bag with their entire supply of rations was distressingly light. When the storm cleared, he would bring his mate to the secured zone. She could not continue in this manner, scrounging day by day for sustenance. She was not receiving the proper nutrition. A diet rich in salt and fat was acceptable for him—he was genetically designed to thrive with suboptimal nutrition—but Terran nutrition was complex and primitive. A proper diet required balance for optimum health.

  He worried that Penny did not consume enough green vegetables or enough sunlight. If she were malnourished now, would she recover and be healthy enough to bear his sons? Would she even be healthy enough to be tested for the genetic match?

  He studied her as she stuffed in the last few personal care items. Vanity items, she called it. He recognized that they were items not necessary for her body’s survival but they nursed her soul.

  “And this,” he said, holding out the wooden chess set.

  “Are you sure? Stu and Maggie have—had—a closet full of board games.”

  “I enjoyed this one. Bring it.” They would need something to occupy their minds during this infernal storm. He could think of many activities to occupy them, many involving Penny on her back with her legs wrapped around him, shouting in pleasure until her throat went raw, but she might object to that suggestion. She could not object to chess.

  “Wait, one more thing,” she said, holding up a length of thick fabric and motioned for him to lower his head. He recognized it as a covering she used to protect exposed skin from the cold. She wrapped the scarf around his neck and adjusted it to cover his mouth and tusks. “There. That should help keep the cold off your teeth. Tusks. Whatever.”

  Her concern for his wellbeing warmed him swifter than the strongest Rolusian wine, but he had doubts about the pattern on the scarf. It appeared cute and beneath him as a warrior. “I protest and must refuse your gift,” he said.

  “What? Because of the owls?”

  “They wear corrective lenses, which I am well aware that Terran wildlife does not naturally wear.” He plucked at the brightly colored owls printed on black fabric.

  “Will the other Mahdfel make fun of you if they see you wearing cartoon owls?”

  “It is not fitting or masculine,” he grumbled. And yes, the other warriors would tease him. Part of him feared that she covered his face because she found him ugly.

  “Well, you make cartoon owls look hot, baby.” Her skin flushed an intriguing red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

  “I am not an infant.”

  “It’s a term of endearment. I don’t know why I called you that. You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

  It mattered to him. A term of endearment? Her feelings warmed to him, that was why she blushed. He pulled at the fabric again. Hot or not, it scratched, but it was a token of his mate’s concern. He would suffer the torments of the itchy fabric. “We have limited daylight and much to do.”

  “I’ll have you know that an owl is a highly specialized predator and considered a symbol of wisdom,” Penny said, batting away his hand and adjusting the scarf.

  His pride was not so great as to prevent him from bearing the likeness of a predator and symbol of wisdom, cute or not.

  Penny insisted on carrying a pack. He could easily carry both—they weighed nothing—but he relented. She would protest and try to whittle away at him until she got her way. Normally he savored her bargaining, but time was of the essence.

  With his comm unit stashed in his pack, he would not be able to give her orders. Not that she would be able to hear him over the wind. Body language would have to do, but her visibility would be hindered. He tied a nylon rope around Penny’s waist to his own. “This is humiliating,” she protested.

  “Better to bear today’s humiliation to face tomorrow’s battle,” he said, repeating a phrase his father said to his younger self.

  “I don’t know what you said, but I’m sure it’d piss me off, so let’s just pretend you made a witty comment about the weather.”

  “A force of nature is no match against your spirit, mate. I look forward to the day you present me with sons,” he said, knowing she would not be able to understand him. He trudged up the stairs, citing her many virtues and merits as a fierce female. “One day I will tell our sons the story of how their mother rescued their father from a river of ice and they will know they are the living embodiments of true warriors. To have such a fierce mother—” He paused at the top of the stairs and held out his hand. Penny had given him vague directions, but he would need her to guide their path initially. “Your orders are the same as before. Stay behind me. Listen for my command. Obey.”

  “Oh no, that’s your serious voice,” she whispered.

  “Pen-knee yes,” he said in Terran.

  “Nothing dumb, I swear. I want to get this over with as fast as possible.”

  Words every male longed to hear. He snorted. Penny would appreciate a rare joke from him; perhaps he could tell her later, once they were warm and fed.

  He opened the door, the cold slamming against his face. His eyes watered and for a moment he legitimately worried that his eyes would freeze shut. Winter on Earth was unreal. Beyond unreal. The snow drifted into piles a deep as his knee. Mindful that Penny did not have the advantage of his height, he avoided the drifts rather than plow through in a straight line.

  Out of the house, Penny steered him towards a cluster of buildings. Her neighborhood had been badly damaged by bombings and fire, but deeper in the neighborhood, some houses remained untouched.

  Their journey was short in distance but long in endurance. Every step was a struggle. His knees wanted to lock. His feet grew numb and he stomped through the snow, graceless. He sincerely hoped the wind and fresh snow covered their tracks as they left a trail obvious enough for even a child to follow.

  Nose numb and teeth aching from the cold, Kol trudged forward. He struggled to maintain awareness of the environment. A Suhlik soldier could be lurking a few paces away, cloaked by the storm, but Kol was blind to any threats. Maintaining forward momentum took all his focus.

  Finally, a gloved hand thumped on his arm, drawing his attention to the yellow house. They had arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  Penny

  The key turned in the lock with ease.

  “Pen-knee stay,” Kol said as the door swung open.

  He pushed past her and scouted the house. She followed him in, unconcerned. No one was in the house. No one was ever in any of the houses.

  “Stu and Maggie were—are—my aunt’s friends. They gave her a key to water the plants. You know, neighbor stuff.” That life seemed so long ago.

  Her breath frosted in the air as her gloved fingertips brushed the lacy asparagus fern. It was still green but not doing well. The house had no heat. Penny kept the plants watered and moved them to the sunlight but there was nothing to do about the cold. The African violets had died months ago. It just couldn’t tolerate the cold. The only plant thriving was the cast-iron plant. A little neglect, cold, and alien invasion wouldn’t kill that leafy bastard.

  The air in the house was stale b
ut clean, with no trace of rotting food in the fridge, damp, or body odor. Penny lifted her arm and sniffed her coat. She could only smell the snow. She reached in for the collar of her hoodie and sniffed. She wrinkled her nose. It reeked. She reeked. She hadn’t had a proper bath in ages and couldn’t remember the last time she washed her clothes. It had been too cold to mess around with water for washing and she had no way to heat up enough water to do anything more than wash her hands and face.

  Kol declared the house clear and she moved into the living room, which held a working fireplace. An idea formed. She crouched down at the grate and stacked wood. “I’ll get a fire started. You go to the back bedroom, the biggest room, and bring back the mattress. It’s king sized. Grab blankets and the pillows, too. And Stu was a big guy. You might be able to find something of his to wear.”

  Kol looked down at his matte black armor. He spoke in his native tongue, soft and lyrical and completely incomprehensible. Penny didn’t need the translation cube to tell her that he was asking what was wrong with his armor.

  “Besides the giant gash in the stomach? It’s wet. You need to dry off.” They both did. Every moment in wet clothes was a moment closer to hypothermia.

  He pointed to the fireplace. “Pen-knee no.”

  “Why not? No one will see the smoke in the storm. We won’t use it when the sun’s out. I agree. It’s risky. Someone can see the smoke and find us, but right now there’s too much wind.” The winter days had been, until this endless storm, bright and brisk—basically the worst weather to have a fire if you wanted to remain hidden. This could be their only chance to use the fireplace and she didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

  The alien nodded. “Understood.”

  Once the logs were stacked, Penny opened the flue. Cold air flooded the room. She remember Stu talking about priming the flue. The cold air would keep the smoke down and it’d fill the house with smoke. Penny grabbed an old newspaper from the basket next to the fireplace. She had seen Stu do this hundreds of times. She rolled up the newspaper and lit a match, setting the end on fire. She held the burning newspaper up the damper until she felt the draft reverse. Perfect.

  She balled up more newspaper and jammed it into the smaller logs at the top of the stack. It lit easily and the fire spread from the burning paper to the tinder.

  Penny didn't give herself time to bask in her fire-starting prowess. There was a lot to do and not much time before the cold and the wet did serious damage.

  She took out the solar lantern from her pack and took it into the kitchen. There wasn’t much natural light with the blizzard raging outside and she needed to find the supplies quickly. The water still worked, thankfully. She filled an old copper tea kettle and hung it by the fire. Every Christmas, Maggie liked to make mulled wine by the fireplace. Penny pushed down the pain of not knowing Maggie or Stu’s fate. They’d left for work one perfectly normal day, just like so many, and never came home, just like her aunt.

  Penny kept moving. She didn’t have the luxury of mourning the missing. Not yet. Maybe one day when this was over, when survival wasn’t her top priority.

  Penny added a stock pot of water next to the fireplace to let it heat up. Tea and a bath sounded like heaven.

  She drew the drapes closed. Tomorrow she’d add better insulation to the windows. Bubble wrap if she could find it. Maggie seemed like the kind of lady who had a room dedicated to gift wrapping and packaging supplies.

  The fire provided enough light to work by. She rummaged through the pantry and found cans of soup. She opened the tops and set them on the stone lip of the fireplace. She’d been through the place before so she had a good idea of the supplies available and what was where. She’d been adding non perishables to the house for a month now. In the back of her head, she had known that tree was going to come down. Damaged in the same blast that damaged her house, it had been only a matter of time before it collapsed. Stu and Maggie’s was her backup plan.

  Kol dragged into a large mattress. He set it near the fireplace. He made several trips, bringing blankets and pillows and anything he thought Penny would want. While he did that, Penny brought out her hammer and nails from her small tool box and went about nailing blankets over the living room doors. The room was central to the house and had two large doorways. The fireplace was great but it wasn’t designed to heat the entire house. She needed to section off the space and contain the heat.

  If she were being honest, she hadn’t wanted to leave her aunt’s house because one day her aunt Jasmine would come home and Penny wanted to be right where Jasmine had left her.

  It was silly, living in a bombed out basement because she was afraid her aunt wouldn’t be able to find her, but it had taken a fallen tree and a hole in the roof to move her.

  Jasmine could still find her. There were so many factors at play. One look at the bombed out house, and Jasmine would assume Penny was dead, which was why she’d stayed as long as she had. Now that she couldn’t stay in their home, she’d need to get to a civilian camp and get her name on a survivor list. If she wasn’t on a list, Jasmine wouldn’t know she survived the bombing, but she needed to get across the river to get to a camp to get on a list and the only bridge was now rubble...

  She’d find Jasmine. There. Problem solved.

  By the time Kol arrived with an armload of clothes, the living room was almost not bone chilling. She took off her coat and set it on the back of the chair to dry.

  “Towels? They’re in the hall closet.”

  He turned sluggishly to go back out. The cold was getting to him but he was too stubborn to complain

  “I’ll do it,” Penny said. “Why don’t you get that wet armor off and warm up.”

  Without a coat, even a wet coat, the cold got to her quickly. She hustled down the hall, grabbed a blind handful of towels and washcloths. A quick stop in the bathroom produced soap, shampoo and conditioner. One thing was sure: when this was over, she’d have to apologize to Stu and Maggie for using their home as her personal department store.

  Back in the living room, Penny dumped her loot onto the mattress. It was warm, really warm. Without hesitation, she kicked off her shoes and striped down to her undershirt and panties. The time for modesty had passed. She’d snuggled against him—to share body heat—the first day they met. Granted, he’d been unconscious at the time, but still. She wanted her damp clothes off her, she wanted a bath, and she wanted to dry by the warmth of the fire.

  Penny grabbed a cushion off the sofa and sat on the floor directly in front of the fire. Using a dry sock over her hand like an oven mitt, she fished out the soup cans. They were warm enough. The kettle whistled. She poured the boiling water into cups and added two tea bags.

  She waved Kol over. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  He sniffed the can.

  “You got a problem with beef barley?”

  His eyes narrowed and he placed the translating communicator on the ground between them. “It is acceptable. You should have a blanket.”

  “I’m fine.” The heat of the fire on her skin was pure luxury. “I’m waiting for the water to warm up. I don’t want to get the clean sheets stinky.”

  Kol removed his shirt and her mind went blank. He was solid muscle and the firelight highlighted each hard ab. She could count them from where she sat but she want to run her fingers over every ridge and explore.

  “You are staring, Pen-knee.” His lips tugged into a smirk.

  “Keep your pants on.” She tried to add surly tone to her voice, like it was threat that he better keep his pants on—or else, mister— and not a plea for mercy. He was hot, pure and simple, red complexion or not. His differences surprised her just days ago but now she was curious to explore more. She’d seen him naked but she hadn’t seen all of him.

  One part of his anatomy still remained a mystery.

  Penny’s eyes drifted down to his lap and wondered again about his bulge and if it concealed his cock.

  She snapped them back up to his
face.

  Nope. Not curious about alien bulges at all.

  They ate in silence. The storm battered the house. The howl of wind surrounding them. Kol’s tail thumped against the brick of the hearth. Penny focused on her can of beef barley and totally didn’t sneak looks at her alien, trying to determine if every part of him was big.

  Nope. Not curious.

  Okay, so she was curious. He was obviously masculine and believed they were compatible that way, so where did he keep his dick? She saw the place it should have been but there was nothing expect that mysterious bulge.

  She finished off the tea and stretched. She flexed her toes towards the fireplace. “I think this is the first time I’ve been warm in ages.” She glanced at the pile of clothes on the mattress. She hadn’t been warm in a long time, and she hadn’t had a proper bath for just as long. “I think the water is warm enough.”

  She dipped a cloth into the water, finding it pleasantly warm. “It’s not a hot bath but it’d be nice to be clean.”

  Kol watched as she ran the wet cloth over her arms, followed by the bar of soap.

  “Is this the best time to bathe?” he asked, his voice soft in his elegant language. No one that ugly should have such a pretty voice.

  The translator cube’s tone was harsh and blunt, jarring her back to the task at hand.

  “We’re not going to be able to use the fireplace tomorrow, so this might be our only opportunity.” She pushed the bar of soap and washcloth at Kol. “Wash. We stink.”

  “I enjoy your scent,” Kol said.

  “Thanks.” What could a girl say to that?

  “You smell compatible. You would make a good mate.”

  Not this again. “I’m not your mate.”

  He nodded. “You need to be certain I am worthy and test me. I will triumph over any test you set.”

  “I’m not—” She didn’t have the energy for this fight. Again. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”