Alien Romance Box Set: Alien Heart Complete Series (Books 1-4): A SciFi (Science Fiction) Alien Warrior Abduction Invasion Romance Box Set

by Patricia Moore

  “Does it help you to believe this a dream?” the voice tells me. It’s the same voice I’d heard in the darkness, telling me to move toward the light.

  I struggle to move, to wake myself, but it’s useless.

  “If you will be still, you may move,” the voice says.

  I’m struggling in every way I can think to get myself to come out of this, but whether I’m trying to force myself to move or screaming in my head to wake up not a thing changes. The being standing in front of me just waits for me to relax.

  Finally, I stop struggling.

  “If you will be still,” the voice repeats, “you may move.”

  “Okay,” I think to myself and my mouth, still open from saying the word “yes,” claps shut.

  I move my arms and legs. I can move my arms and legs.

  “There is little time,” the being tells me, its mouth never moving.

  “If I’m going to be stuck in this dream for a while, could I, at least, get your name so I know what to call you?” I ask.

  “There is little time,” it repeats.

  The longer I’m sitting here on the floor of this nondescript room, the less this is feeling like a dream. The floor beneath me is cool to the touch. My legs hurt.

  I pinch myself. The pinch hurts.

  “There is much we must do,” the being says. “Come.” It holds out a long, three-fingered hand toward me. For a moment, I just stare at it. “Come,” it tells me again.

  I reach up, but when my hand comes in contact with the one being offered to me, I start screaming. This is not a dream.

  Chapter 5

  I’m screaming until my throat is sore and I’m gasping for air. The being in front of me has hardly moved though it did pull its hand back.

  “What are you?” I ask with my now gravelly voice. “Where am I? What do you want from me?”

  “These questions are to be answered, Kathryn Taylor,” the being tells me.

  I recoil at the response, but when the creature doesn’t move, I cut short my retreat.

  “If you are ready to hear the answers you seek, you must come with me, but I warn you: a lack of self-control will not be tolerated before the Elders,” it says.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “I am to guide you to the answer,” it says. “Come, the Elders have much to attend to.”

  I’m staring into its dark brown, almost black eyes. There are no pupils, no irises; they’re just solid dark orbs.

  It extends its hand once more and, just as before, I stare at it a moment before looking back to the face of it. Its face is expressionless, terrifying for its strangeness to me, but it hasn’t caused me any harm. Given its size, even as thin as it is, I’m sure it could have harmed me plenty if it wanted to.

  “There is no harm,” it says. “My name is not ‘It.’”

  It’s in my head. It knows what I’m thinking.

  “Come,” it says. Not it. Whatever. “You will gain the knowledge you seek.”

  I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I guess I don’t really have a choice in the matter.

  “There is the choice, but there is also the necessity,” it says. “If you seek answers, they will be given, but if you choose not to proceed—”

  I take its hand. It helps me to my feet and he lets go of my hand. The voice sounds male, anyway.

  “I am a male,” it says. “You must not interrupt the Elders. They speak only when they must. You must listen as we do.”

  I have no idea what he means. I just hope these “Elders” can tell me something I can understand.

  “You won’t tell me your name?” I ask as we start walking back in the direction from which he came.

  “I am not given a human name,” he says. “My name cannot be spoken beneath the fifth dimension.”

  As usual, I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but if I stop asking it questions, I won’t be able to pretend I’m having a normal conversation. I’m having enough trouble not fainting as it is.

  “You are prepared?” he asks.

  There’s no possible way I can answer that. I’m not prepared for where I am now. How does someone prepare for something like this?

  “Do you wish to return?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer quickly.

  He places his hand against one wall. He keeps his hand in place as the walls begin to rise from the floor, and before I can wrap my mind around what’s happening, the walls, the ceiling, everything but the floor is drawn along the path of its original structure toward the hand, revealing a much larger room.

  “Oh my god,” I mutter as the last bit of those gray walls reach the beings fingertips, and he closes his hand.

  The room I’m in is perfectly round and its glass or transparent walls or whatever is keeping us from floating into space is no less than fifty feet across in every direction. Why space? I’m looking at the Earth now. I’m not on it.

  Outside this domed room is a collection of stars beyond anything I’ve ever dreamed. There is light coming from some unseen source in the room itself, but much of the light coming in is from those countless stars.

  The world is dark below, but we’re high enough I can just make out the lines and ink blots of metropolitan lights.

  “Shall we begin?” a voice says. I turn around to find a new creature standing there.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “You may call me Nestor,” it answers.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “We want to save our species,” Nestor answers. “Come.”

  Cautiously, I walk forward.

  “You need not fear me, human,” it says.

  I imagine it would probably say the same thing if I should be afraid of it.

  “You should not be afraid,” Nestor says.

  I get to Nestor, and we walk toward one side of the room. If this is how I’m going to die, I can’t imagine better scenery. I could do without the aliens and the dying, but I don’t think I’m in much of a position to make demands.

  Once we’ve reached the edge of the room, Nestor says, “Look.”

  Without pointing or otherwise gesturing, my eyes settle on one of the brighter stars in the sky.

  “Do you see?” he asks.

  “I see a star,” I tell him.

  “Look closer,” Nestor says.

  I don’t know what he expects me to do, but I squint a little and try to see what I’m supposed to be seeing, but all I see is the bright dot of a star who knows how far away.

  “Approximately thirty-six, decimal, six, six of your light years,” Nestor says.

  “My light years?” I ask. “I thought light traveled the same speed wherever.”

  “Your planet’s orbit determines the length of your year,” Nestor says. “It is not applicable.”

  “I still don’t see what I’m supposed to be looking at,” I tell him.

  “Not ‘look closer,’,” it says. “Think closer. I will help you.”

  Think closer?

  Without any further warning, space bends in front of me, the stars produce a blinding flash as that star suddenly starts getting very big.

  “How are you doing… this?” I ask.

  Before I’ve even finished the question, we come to a stop above a very different world. I don’t know if it’s bigger than Earth, or if we’re just closer to it, but it’s enormous in front of us.

  “This is our world,” Nestor says. “It is dying. Look.”

  My eyes settle over a darker patch of land on the surface of the planet and a moment later, we’re there. Only, the ship is upside down, the surface above us now, and gravity takes hold.

  I freefall about ten feet and then the curvature of the domed room catches me and I slide down all the way to the bottom. Nestor’s not here. I look at the entirety of the room but see no signs of anything but what's outside the glass.

  “Look,” Nestor’s voice comes.

  I look down. The world below is a tangled mass of dark structures
, like a leafless thorn bush.

  “It dies,” Nestor says, and as I’m looking, I can see the surface of the long, interconnected buildings contracting slightly. As I look more closely, the surfaces aren’t smooth. As the buildings contract in a slow, but constant pace, it’s almost like the way your skin prunes when you’ve been in the water for a while.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “It is the seat of life in our world,” Nestor says. “It cannot be saved.”

  I’m filled with an overwhelming sadness, almost like I can feel the agony of the world below. “What h-happened to it?” I stammer.

  “We have been long without disease, but there are those who plot to destroy us,” Nestor says. “We must return. Even consciousness is not long safe here.”

  A moment later, the ship is back above the Earth. As soon as I see it out my window, I try to curl up into a ball, preparing to come crashing to the floor no less than five stories down, but I’m not falling. I’m simply back at the edge of the room, looking at a bright star in the distance.

  “How are you doing that?” I ask.

  “There is not time,” Nestor says. “Come, the Elders wish to speak with you.”

  I turn to find the room now populated with six other beings. Nestor joins them to complete the semi-circle.

  “Plague has gripped our world,” Nestor says. “Our kind eradicated disease on our planet. It was once so that those who left Arcturus were never to return, lest a tragedy like the one which has befallen our people occur.”

  “Arcturus?” I ask.

  “It is your name for the star which our planet orbits,” Nestor answers.

  “I don’t understand what you want from me,” I tell him.

  “When the others came, we prepared for battle,” Nestor says. “Instead, the others introduced a pathogen we cannot cure. After millennia without disease, what you would call our immune system was wholly inadequate to combat the epidemic. We, the Elders, have done everything within our power to save our people, but none who have been infected will survive.”

  “How many of you are infected?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little less safe standing here. Not that I felt particularly safe before.

  “Your species fights this disease, your immune systems are not atrophied as ours,” Nestor says. “If you will accept, you can help ensure our species’ continuation.”

  I look at each of the beings standing before me, trying to catch a glimmer of any recognizable emotion, but there are none to be found. “I don’t know what you want me to accept,” I answer finally.

  “Once paired with a human, the offspring of an Arcturian father will retain much of our capacity while gaining the natural defenses our people do not possess alone,” Nestor answers.

  I’m not feeling very good about this.

  “What do you mean, paired?” I ask. “You want to implant…” I search for the right word, but I’m not sure it exists. “You’re talking about some kind of artificial… You want to make me pregnant?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Nestor says. “We realize this is much to ask of one of your species, but our people are dying.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “If you wiped out disease entirely on your planet, why is it so difficult to cure whatever this is as well?”

  “Its nature is unfamiliar to us,” Nestor answers. “Many have tried. Many still try, but we grow fewer. It is only due to the power of the Elders’ those upon this ship have survived so long as we have.”

  “But having one of you… ‘pair’ with me is going to save your world?” I ask.

  For the first time since I first touched that hand, I’m starting to seriously wonder if I’m dreaming. This can’t be real. It’s too bizarre. Even if something like this was going on, why would they pick me?

  “Do you accept?” Nestor asks.

  “How can I possibly accept something like that?” I ask. “Up until an hour ago, I thought all this was a dream and now you’re telling me you want me to carry an alien baby to save your—”

  My body freezes before I can get out the final word.

  “Be still and you may move,” Nestor says.

  I try to tell myself they’re scared I might hurt them, but I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.

  “We cannot force this choice upon even those the Elders have shown their favor,” Nestor says.

  With that, the invisible force holding me in place releases and, simply because I’m not expecting it, I fall to my knees. I look up at the Arcturians. None of them have moved.

  As I look at them now, though, I no longer see just them as enormous, threatening creatures. For as much technology as they have, for as far advanced as they are, they’re on the verge of extinction. This is an act, not of power, but of desperation.

  “If the human species were dying,” I start, but I don’t finish. If the human species were dying the way the Arcturians are dying, if we had the means that they had, I seriously doubt we’d be so kind as to ask permission for anything. “What if I say no?” I ask.

  “You will be returned, unharmed,” Nestor answers.

  For whatever reason, the soreness in my legs comes back to the forefront of my consciousness.

  “Why should I trust you?” I ask.

  Nestor doesn’t answer. Either I can trust them or I can’t. It’s not going to change anything. If they’re going to kill me if I say no, they’re going to kill me. If not, not.

  “How would something like that even work?” I ask. “Would there be…”

  Seriously, only I could be taken aboard an alien spacecraft and have an awkward conversation.

  “It is difficult to explain to your kind, but there is not what you call sex, rather a meeting between spirits, two minds in perfect balance with one another,” Nestor says. “We have already selected your mate.”

  With that last word, the naked man from my dream the other night flashes into my consciousness. My hands are shaking, my mouth is dry, and I’m overcome with a sense of desire unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Just as quickly as the image flashes into my mind, though, it dissipates.

  “This is too much,” I answer. “I can’t do this.”

  “So shall it be,” Nestor says and, one by one, the other six beings vanish from my sight, though I can almost feel their presence still in the room.

  “Where did they go?” I ask.

  “Come and you will be returned,” Nestor says.

  I hesitate.

  “I’m not the only one, am I?” I ask. “You wouldn’t put all your hopes on one person.”

  “No,” Nestor answers. “Those who refuse are returned so we may find another. You must go now.”

  I take a step toward Nestor but stop again. What am I doing? I just want to get out of here.

  “If you wish to leave, you must leave now,” Nestor says.

  “What about…” I trail off. I don’t even know how to say it. “What if I change my mind?” I ask.

  “Have you?” Nestor asks.

  “No,” I answer.

  “You must leave,” Nestor tells me. “There is much we must do and little time.”

  I take another step forward.

  “What if I do, though?” I ask. “What if I change my mind?”

  Nestor doesn’t answer for a moment. His eyes flicker with transparent eyelids.

  “It has been decided,” Nestor says. “He will come to you in your dreams. You will know him. Then you will choose. Is this acceptable?”

  What am I doing? Whatever this is, it’s way over my head and I’m not sure I really want to have a creature growing inside of me. The only right answer here is a firm no. Yet…

  “I accept,” I answer.

  Nestor extends his hand toward me. I take it and in the next instant, I’m staring up at the roof of the cabin. It’s daylight outside.

  My phone is still blaring Like a Virgin, and I turn on the screen to check the time. It’s eleven in the morning. It’s still the same day, earlier.

 
This time, though, I don’t question whether or not it was just a particularly realistic dream. Why?

  My legs are sore.