Kallel: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Paranormal Romance (Defender of Earth Book 2)

by Ashley West

  From what he could tell, these birds were different. Smaller, and singing in the early morning. Strange.

  The knocking didn't stop, though, and so Kal rolled out of bed in just his pants and made his way to the door, halfway there before he considered that he probably should have grabbed a weapon. Too late now.

  Peering out the window, he saw a woman on the porch, looking around interestedly. Before she could raise her hand to knock again, as she seemed determined to, Kallel opened the door. She seemed older than the woman he'd spoken to the day before, and her hair was a different color, a rich brown, and it fell about her face in soft curls.

  "Um," Kal said intelligently. "Yes?"

  The woman was much shorter up close than he'd been expecting, and she peered up and up and up at him, eyes narrowed for a long moment. Kallel wasn't really sure what to do, so he stood there and bore it, looking at her right back.

  Eventually, her look of suspicion or whatever it had been went away, and she beamed at him, clearly pleased. "I thought so!" she said, reaching out to take his hand.

  It was then that he remembered that he wasn't exactly wearing a shirt, and that she could see his bare chest and was touching him. He fought the urge to yank his hand back, staring at her, bewildered. "Um."

  "I saw the lights on over here, I live just over the hill there, you see," she said, pointing. "And I thought to myself, Liz, you'd better get on down there and see what's happening. Can't be too careful, you know. Years ago some thug teenagers broke into this place and trashed it all to creation, but it got put back to rights again, even though I never did see who was responsible for it."

  "I...see?" Kal said, unsure what his part in this conversation was supposed to be. The woman talked fast, and seemed to take it for granted that he understood what she was talking about. He decided it was probably for the best for him to just go with it.

  "And so when I saw the lights on, I thought, oh no, what if they're back? Or different hoodlums this time, I suppose, since the first ones are grown and moved on now. Either way, I had to get myself down here. You're not a hoodlum, are you?" She was squinting up at him again.

  "I...ah. No?" he managed. "I mean. No." He wasn't entirely sure what a 'hoodlum' was, in the first place, but from her tone of voice, he was guessing that it was a bad thing. "Where I'm from, I help keep the peace." There. That would serve as good enough proof, right?

  She beamed at him again, so maybe so. "Well, that's a relief. A visitor, then? Staying here? For how long?"

  Kal shook his head. "I'm not sure how long. I'm here to...help. A friend. As long as they need." It was close enough to the truth, and her smile only grew.

  "How nice of you!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand, which she still held. "Well, my name is Liz, and I live down the hill there." She pointed again, and Kal could just about make out a house in the distance. "If you need anything, you come knocking, understand? We're friendly around here to those who want to help keep the peace."

  "Oh. Thank you," Kal said, and then followed it up with a short bow.

  "So charming!" She let his hand go and turned to leave, murmuring to herself the whole way back down the hill.

  Kallel stared after her, still bewildered. It was completely different from his first conversation with a human, and he knew that all of his interactions with them would likely be different. It also served as a reminder, that the Champion of the Randoran had relied on the help of a human woman to bring about the end of the Alva's hold on the people here. Who knew more about what was happening than a human, right?

  First order of business, then. Find himself a human, preferably a woman, who could help him.

  Chapter Five: The Ones who Persist

  The office in the back of Sheila's coffee shop was the quietest place in the whole shop. For some reason, as soon as the door closed, it was impossible to hear the sound of customers chatting or arguing with the baristas and even the sound of the various coffee makers and milk frothers going was faint.

  By those virtues, it was Haven's favorite place in the whole of the shop, even if she was hunched over the desk, glasses perched on her nose while she went over columns of numbers.

  She imagined that she looked like some sort of cliché in that moment. Hair messy and pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, a pencil jammed through it to keep it in place. Her glasses were trendy, black plastic frames that were just square enough to make her face look less round, or however that worked. She only wore them when she was doing someone's taxes, as there was something about rows and rows of numbers that made her slight vision problems ten times worse.

  Apparently people were paranoid about their numbers so they wrote them in the smallest font imaginable.

  Aside from her regular duties manning the counter, making drinks, and cleaning up, she was also paid to handle budgetary things when it came to the shop. After all, she had a degree in accounting that she wasn't really using except for when it came to doing people's taxes, so she figured she might as well offer that service to the woman who made sure her rent got paid every month.

  Sheila was a kind lady anyway, larger than life in some ways, tall, dark skinned, braids that fell nearly to her butt and a laugh that you could hear from anywhere in the shop. Haven liked to think that she would have done Sheila's books for free, but the extra money was appreciated.

  She'd rather be doing this than making lattes and specialty drinks for the mid-afternoon crowd anyway. Around three the traffic really picked up as people hit their afternoon slumps and needed something to pick them up for the last few hours of work before they could go home.

  Tired people were rude people, as she had found out over the course of her time working for Sheila, and she didn't need the headache. If she was lucky, she could work back here for the rest of the afternoon and then head home without serving another customer that day.

  "How's it coming?"

  Haven looked up, surprised. She hadn't heard the door open, and for someone who was definitely a couple of inches over six feet tall without heels, Sheila moved like a ninja.

  "Not bad," she replied. "Everything's adding up so far, which is good. The last thing I want to do is have to sort through a year's worth of invoices and receipts.

  "Don't blame you for that," Sheila said. "I really need a better system."

  'System' was her word for shoving everything into a box with the year written on the top of it, and it made Haven twitch every time she referred to it as such because there was no planet in existence where that qualified as a system. At this point, Sheila knew her opinion on it because she refused to dignify that with a response.

  "Anyway," Sheila said, laughing and moving on. "Can you take a break?"

  "Why?"

  "Because the espresso machine needs your tender touch."

  Haven rolled her eyes. Everyone else was just as qualified as she was to fix the damned thing, but they all liked to pretend like they were in some danger of breaking it so Sheila wouldn't make them go near it. "Fine," she said. "In a second."

  "Normally, I'd give you that second, but there is an impatient gentleman out here who seems determined that he should have his four shot mocha."

  She ground her teeth at that. Probably some hot shot businessman who thought he was too good to take what they could give him. She sighed and got to her feet, stretching languidly and taking her time before she walked out behind the counter.

  Haven didn't even glance at the customer, but she could hear Lacey asking him to move to the side so she could take someone else's order, promising that Haven would have the machine fixed as soon as possible. It never took her longer than about five minutes to unjam the thing.

  "Well, well," a male voice said, and she frowned before she looked up, not sure why that voice sounded familiar. When she lifted her eyes and was face to face with Delton from the market, she wanted to bang her head against the machine.

  "Of course it's you," she said. "Of course it is."

  "Happy to see me,
then?" he replied. "I've missed you, too." Delton leaned against the end of the counter casually. "You know, I wouldn't have pegged someone with your level of organization boner for being a coffee slave."

  Haven bristled, everything he said making her want to walk out and leave him to his espresso-less existence. "You're the coffee slave, Mr. Four Shot Mocha," she fired back, turning her attention back to the task at hand. "I'm just providing a service so you can get your fix."

  "Touché," he replied. "I'm not usually so dependent, but I have two more meetings before I can go home, and they're both going to be terribly dull, I'm afraid."

  "Poor you." Haven was aware that people were starting to take notice of the exchange, most notably Calvin, who was making drinks as Lacey took orders and had the biggest mouth of anyone who worked there. Haven could anticipate the questions she would have to answer once Delton left.

  "So," he said. "Now that I know where you shop and where you work, don't you think you ought to tell me your name?"

  She kept her eyes on the machine and her body turned away from him so he wouldn't be able to see her name tag. "Mm, no. Surprisingly enough, I'm not in any hurry to give you more information about me."

  "You really don't like me, do you?"

  One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I'm indifferent to you. What I don't like is your persistence."

  "Ah, but I've been told that's one of my most redeeming qualities."

  "Then I'd hate to see the rest of them."

  She hit the side of the machine with the flat of her hand and it hissed and gurgled, a sure sign that it was fixed. "Have at it, Lacey," she said and turned to head back to her numbers where things were quiet and she didn't have to talk to irritating lawyers.

  Of course, luck wasn't always on her side and she had to go back to the counter for the last half hour of her shift, making drinks while someone else took orders.

  Delton had chosen his job over her, clearly, since he was nowhere to be found, and she was glad for that, letting out a sigh of relief. As it got closer to five, the cafe emptied out some, and there were just a few people hanging around, sitting at tables with laptops and tablets or sitting on the couches with books and their phones.

  In one corner there was a man who Haven had to look twice at. His hair and size were unmistakable, and she recognized him as the man she had spoken to the day before on her way to work. He'd been sitting on a bench looking like he might be sick and had no idea where he was, and she'd been a few minutes early, so she'd stopped to see if he needed help.

  He looked just as bewildered now as he had before, glancing around the cafe with wide eyes and staring at the door every time it opened to let someone in or out. In front of him were four empty cups, and Haven arched an eyebrow.

  Lacey came up behind her and followed her gaze. "Him?" she responded to a question Haven hadn't asked. "Yeah, I dunno what his deal is. He's been here since about two and ordered four different drinks."

  "Well, that's better than four of the same, right?" Haven asked.

  "No, I mean, he came up to the counter and said 'I'd like four different drinks, please' and then paid for them all with a hundred dollar bill."

  Haven's brow furrowed. "That's...odd."

  "Putting it mildly. Hey!" Lacey perked up suddenly. "It's you."

  "What's me?"

  "When he came in, he asked if there was a woman with hair like wheat here. I didn't know what he was talking about, but you're the only one whose hair matches that description."

  "My hair is not like wheat!" Haven insisted, offended. "Wheat is dry."

  "I’m pretty sure he just meant the color," Lacey soothed.

  Their exchange had drawn the eyes of the man in question, and Haven frowned as he looked at her and visibly startled. First Delton and now this. "Did I suddenly get hotter or something?" she muttered. "All these idiots following me around."

  "I dunno," Lacey said. "But if you've got some kind of secret, I demand you share with me. And anyway, espresso guy was pretty good looking, so if you don’t want him..."

  Haven snorted, still not looking away from the strange man who was still looking at her. “Have at him,” she murmured, brow furrowing. There was just something so odd about this guy, and Haven couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It went without saying that he stood out, but there was something almost...foreign about him. She supposed he could be from another country. That would explain the staring.

  He didn't say anything, just continued to sit there, so Haven did her best to ignore him, going about her tasks as usual. Of course, having a man with bright hair sitting in the corner staring at her wasn't easy to ignore, so she caught herself glancing over more than once.

  In the last fifteen minutes until she was free from all this madness, the door opened to admit Darren, who was wearing a suit and looking smug. That was pretty much his default look these days. Being a business man meant he always had to dress up, and being a good business man meant he had a lot to be smug about. Didn't mean Haven didn't want to punch him in his face sometimes.

  "Hello, ladies," he said, grinning as he sauntered in and leaned against the counter.

  "Hi, Darren," Lacey said, giggling. By now all of Haven's coworkers were used to her ridiculous best friend and his antics.

  "Darren," Haven greeted, rubbing her face and stretching. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over at the man in the corner, who was watching with interest.

  "It's been a very good day, my dears," Darren was saying, speaking loudly as if there weren't other people in the cafe trying to do their work or enjoy some peace. "A very good day, and I am here to celebrate with cheesecake."

  "Coming right up," Lacey said, nearly tripping over herself in her haste to go and get it for him.

  Haven rolled her eyes. "What's so good about today, then?" she wanted to know.

  "Two things. Number one, I'm in talks to get a raise at work. Having your dad be the head of the company and being really good at your job anyway is apparently a great way to get people to want to throw money at you."

  She wasn't jealous of Darren's success. He was her best friend, and appearances aside, he worked hard. Having his father be in charge usually worked against him instead of for him, and it just made him work harder. So he deserved what he got. Still, sometimes she looked at her paycheck and then looked at the things Darren had, and heard the stories he told about his salary, and she wanted to throw something at him.

  "What's the second thing?" Haven asked.

  "One of the ladies I met on Margarita Monday wants to go out for dinner this weekend."

  Haven snorted, amused. It was clear which development her friend was more excited about. They chatted for a bit longer while Darren ate a slice of red velvet cheesecake from their pastry case, and when the clock struck the end of Haven's shift, she said her goodbyes, stretched, and made for the door.

  "Haven!" Darren called, and she turned her head to look back at him. "Let's get lunch sometime soon, okay? I feel like I barely see you anymore."

  She smiled at him. Ridiculous as he was sometimes, he was still her best friend. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll put it on the list." That was basically code for 'this is important to me and will definitely happen', since everything that went on a list she made got checked off eventually. That was just how she operated.

  Darren grinned and waved her off, and she slipped out the door.

  Before she could get very far, someone else was leaving the shop just behind her. "Wait," a male voice said, and Haven turned to see the bright haired man following her.

  The first thing she noticed was that he was tall. Even tall didn't seem like an adequate word because she didn't mean he was just taller than she was. At five foot nine, she was already tall for a woman, but this guy had to be at least seven feet tall, and she had to crane her neck to look at his face.

  "Can I help you?" she asked warily. In general, being followed by someone big enough to bench press you wasn't a great idea.

  "I just.
I'd like to talk to you if you don't mind," he said, clearly trying to make himself seem non-threatening. He licked his lips and folded his hands together in front of himself, peering down at her.

  "I don't really have time to talk," Haven said. There was a feeling of unease building in the pit of her stomach, and she'd never been one to ignore her gut reaction to people. Sometimes it was right, sometimes it wasn't, but better safe than sorry.

  Before he could say anything else, she was striding away quickly, hopefully making it clear that she was not in the mood to be followed.

  Chapter Six: The Start of a Plan

  Her name was Haven.

  Kal had looked the word up on his comm device when he got back to the house, and the definition had made him even more sure that he'd chosen the right woman. A place of safety or refuge. He was a warrior, and she was a haven, and together they were supposed to bring peace to the Earth. He knew they were. Of course, it was hard to actually do that when she refused to talk to him.

  In a way, it made sense. She didn't know who he was or what he wanted, where he came from, even. Back on Horu, people weren't exactly paranoid, but they didn't go around blindly trusting people either. There was a precedent for people trying to get friendly with mine workers in order to get free gems out of them, and everyone had learned to be wary of that.

  It was the same thing here. Haven was right to be wary, but Kallel had to make her see. He had to make her understand that he was meant to save the Earth from the Alvan threat that remained, and she was the key to helping. That was how it worked for the Champion, and that was how it would work now.

  But how to go about it? What he needed was a plan. Some way to make sure that she would hear him out until the end. Then she would definitely want to help, right? She'd be compelled to help her people, just as Kal had been when he'd taken up his halberd and decided to be serious about being a warrior.