Terran (Breeder)

by Cara Bristol

  Only Alpha remained. Though he’d saved her, the rage and intent to harm that enlarged his already huge body had terrified her, and she’d fled, as much from him as the attack.

  “You’re bleeding,” Ramon said, and she became aware of searing pain in her legs, back, and chest. They’d cut her when they had sliced at her clothing and had pummeled her with their fists and feet. “You need medical attention. I’m calling Security.”

  “No!” came a gravelly shout.

  Ramon started, but Tara did not. Hadn’t she known all along he would follow her?

  “I will handle this.” There was no mistaking the threat in the gaze the Alpha cast upon Ramon. “Leave us.”

  A brave Ramon shook his head. “No, I’m staying.”

  Aggression shimmered off the Commander in waves. Ramon was wiry but little match for most men on Terra, let alone an Alpha. She had little doubt how he would fare in a confrontation. Again, she pictured her attacker sailing through the air as if the Commander had thrown a stuffed toy and not a live adult male.

  She opened her mouth to reassure her shop mate she would be okay, but before she could speak, the Commander yanked her out of Ramon’s protective embrace and slung her over his shoulder. The Alpha stalked out of her shop into the Bazaar.

  She could hear Ramon yelling.

  Shock and fear paralyzed her. Hard sinew and bone shifted beneath her abdomen as the Commander carried her as if her weight posed no burden. She stared at the moving ground. His arm across her thighs immobilized her legs. The flannel with which Ramon had covered her trussed her arms. Tara found her voice. “Let me go! Where are you taking me?” Had he saved her only to rape her himself? Along with amusement and derision, there’d been lust in his eyes during their fabric transaction.

  The Commander ignored her.

  Tara worked her arms free of the flannel and punched at his legs. “Put me down, now!”

  He growled and struck her ass hard three times.

  She hit him again.

  He retaliated.

  For every blow she landed against him, he tripled with his own.

  “Help! Somebody, please help,” she screamed, knowing it was in vain. Not a single person had come to her rescue during the attack by the betas, and no one would oppose an Alpha. Parseons would not, and though shock registered on the faces of her fellow vendors, the Commander moved too swiftly for them to do anything—if they had dared. Her fear rising, Tara began to cry.

  Before she knew it, they had exited the Bazaar, left the Market, and boarded the sky tram.

  * * * *

  Marlix had never been moved by a female’s emotions before, but the feleen’s piteous sobs tugged at his conscience. After the way she’d been abused by the betas, he rued having to punish her, but she’d given him no choice. Her ineffectual blows had only grazed his legs, but public disobedience could not go unchallenged.

  Could not the female see he was trying to help her?

  Her weeping and struggles ceased by the time they’d left the tram. Reaching the entrance to his domicile, Marlix entered the elevation tube and waved a hand over the gene scanner. The door closed, and the tube descended to his subterranean abode.

  Urazi met him when the portal slid open. The beta’s widened eyes said it all. What have you done now?

  “If you are wise, you will not say what is on your mind,” Marlix growled.

  “I would not dream of it, Commander.”

  “Bring a pallet—two of them—to the small sleeping chamber, and summon a Terran physician.” He shoved the sack containing the scissors and needles at Urazi. “Here. I believe these go with the fabric,” he said and returned his attention to Tara. Her lack of movement and sound concerned him. Blood soaked the cloth that swaddled her.

  Monto! What if she had expired from her injuries?

  Marlix entered the chamber, and a sensor flooded the room with solar-mimicking light. Though barren of all comforts because it was never used, the chamber would be a good place to keep Tara because it adjoined his, and he could watch over her, ensure she did not try to escape after she recovered from her injuries.

  In that moment, he realized he intended to keep her. At least for a little while.

  Provided she recovered. She still had not moved. Marlix tightened his grip while he waited for the pallets. She was so slight, delicate. She weighed nothing at all.

  Urazi rushed in with two sleeping mats.

  “Stack them,” Marlix said.

  Urazi did, and he lowered a limp Tara onto her feet. Though she did not awaken, she emitted a little moan, which reassured him somewhat. But the quantity of blood staining the wrap worried him.

  “I have called a Terran physician and cautioned him about the need for confidentiality,” Urazi said.

  “Good.” Marlix unwound the cloth. Little remained of her clothing. Long gashes, some of which still oozed, streaked across her thighs and back. She had another on her breast, near her left nipple. Marlix frowned as he spied an old scar zigzagging across her abdomen.

  “What do you suppose caused it?” Urazi asked.

  “She did not heal—whatever happened.” He hoped her new wounds, some of which appeared quite deep, would not scar her, but Terrans were so weak-bodied, it would be hard to predict. With his beta’s help, Marlix removed the tattered vestiges of her clothing and then laid her on the pallet.

  “I will await the physician,” Urazi said.

  Marlix nodded. After his beta’s departure, he continued his appraisal of Tara. Unconscious and bloodied, she appeared even smaller and more fragile. Defenseless. Broken.

  Terrans break. Do not hurt them.

  He had not been responsible for what had happened to her, and, in fact, he had saved her from additional injury. Yet a sense of guilt pervaded him as if some fault did reside with him. Marlix sighed and knelt to study her better.

  He’d never been so near to a Terran female and had never seen one unclothed. She resembled a breeder in that she had the standard genetic issue of two eyes, two ears, one mouth, two arms, two legs, etc. But she was hairier than the females on his planet. A fine down covered her limbs, and between her legs sprouted a wiry tuft. It fascinated him, and he touched the triangle with his finger. Springy.

  Furrowing his brow, he traced the ridge of her abdominal scar. What could have caused such injury?

  He examined the vine of flowers on her arm. The decoration was not painted on; it was permanent. But surely she could not have been born with it? He studied her pink hair that had caught his attention. He could see darkness close to her scalp. He shifted his perusal between her head and the curls marking her sex. No, pink was not her natural color. Not her hair color, anyway.

  Her rose-colored areolae and nipples were unpierced. The lack of a ring in a Parseon would indicate she had not been claimed as an alpha’s breeder. But since she was Terran, it meant…nothing. Marlix had it on good authority males and females on Terra engaged in all manner of sexual depravities. Had she been so used on her planet? At the contemplation, a red tide crept in, and Marlix’s gut tightened the way it had when he’d arrived at her stall and discovered the male touching her, holding her. He had come very close to tossing the man the way he had done with the beta.

  How much of an uproar would the abduction of one of their females create? he wondered. No doubt the male from her shop had alerted the embassy.

  With the back of his finger, Marlix stroked Tara’s cheek. Her skin was smoother than the fabric he’d fondled in her shop.

  Why did she fascinate him so? What impulse had spurred him to spirit her away? He was hardly conscious of any decision, only that a rage had suffused him when he’d found her in the arms of the male Terran. It was either take her or kill him. By the time reason had returned, he was halfway home, and she had fallen into unconsciousness. He couldn’t leave her body on the side of the road.

  Footfalls sounded in the corridor, and Marlix rose to his feet seconds before Urazi appeared with a Terran physician.
The male fidgeted with nerves. Good. He’d be easy to intimidate into silence.

  “What happened?” the physician asked.

  “She was injured,” Marlix replied.

  The man knelt at Tara’s side. Marlix surveyed him with a raptor’s sharpness as he listened to Tara’s chest with a device he attached to his ears, wrapped a cuff around her arm and pumped it up, and peered at her pupils. When he palpated her wounds, the red tide rolled in, and Marlix had to turn away and take several deep breaths. It would not benefit Tara if he inflicted harm upon the physician before he could help her.

  “She has lost blood,” the physician said, as if the sodden swaddling fabric wasn’t proof enough. “I can give her a synthetic transfusion. But I will need to move her to the Terran infirmary. Some of her wounds are deep and should be stitched.” He pointed to a couple on her thigh.

  Aghast, Marlix stared. “You mean sewn? Like with needle and thread?”

  The physician nodded. “Pretty much, except the medical suture is manufactured from polymer that will dissolve with time.”

  The Terrans had some of the most advanced technology available, yet they engaged in crude acts of barbarism like sewing flesh together. Marlix could guess how Tara’s abdomen had become scarred. “Will her leg look like her stomach?” he asked.

  The doctor shrugged. “I don’t think it will be that severe, but some scarring could result.”

  The medical technician’s expertise and training were worthless. Furthermore, Marlix would not allow him to move Tara anywhere. “Your services will not be required.” Marlix nearly yanked the door off its hinges.

  “Commander…” Urazi spoke.

  The physician took the opportunity to beat a hasty exit, but Marlix caught him halfway down the corridor and spun him around. “Do you know who I am?”

  Beads of sweat broke out on the male’s forehead. He nodded.

  “You will tell no one what you have seen today.”

  “N-no, Commander. I m-mean yes, Commander. I won’t tell anyone.”

  Marlix exchanged a glance with Urazi, who had followed. “Escort him out, and call a Parseon physician.”

  * * * *

  The Parseon medical technician entered Tara’s chamber with a wary shuffle. Due to strong physical constitution, males rarely required medical intervention, and to seek it would be perceived as an admission of feebleness. No alpha would request a physician, and no one bothered to treat females except for breeding issues. Because of the lack of status associated with treating weakness, only betas trained in medicine.

  “She is Terran!” the physician gasped and gripped his metal medical case as if his life depended on its contents. His life did. He glanced between Marlix and Urazi and wet his lips. “I-I have never treated an alien. Would not a Terran physician be better trained?”

  “Are you confessing you do not possess the skills to serve Alpha?” Marlix asked.

  The medical technician blanched. “No, Commander.” Marlix followed the beta’s gaze to where Tara lay on her back, her arms at her sides. Was her left elbow bent a little more than it had been? Were her legs closer together? Had she moved?

  “I meant because genetics and biology differ, I cannot guarantee treatments will work on a Terran.”

  “That would be a shame—for you,” Marlix threatened, aware he was being unfair to the physician whose assumptions were most likely correct. But after kidnapping Tara from another Alpha’s province, Marlix could not allow her to perish from her injuries. Her death could cause an intergalactic crisis and a domestic one as well. It would not be long before Commander Dak demanded answers and recompense, and Marlix had not abducted her only to let her expire.

  The technician gulped. “I will do everything I can.” He knelt beside Tara, opened his medical case, and extracted a bioscanner. He ran it over Tara from head to toe, and then peered at the screen. He frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Marlix demanded.

  “N-nothing, Commander. I am trying to translate and apply the readings to Terran physiology. She has lost some blood, but other than her injuries, she appears to be a healthy, robust female—for a Terran.”

  The physician extracted a propellant device from his case, snapped a small vial of liquid into the chamber, placed the apparatus against Tara’s neck, and pressed the trigger. Her body jerked, and a cry of pain erupted from her throat.

  “You are hurting her!” Marlix would have grabbed the physician by the throat, but Urazi forestalled him with a hand on his arm.

  “What did you do?” Urazi inquired of the technician.

  “I injected a hemoregeneration serum to help her body replace its lost blood cells and plasma. At least it works that way on Parseons.”

  “It causes pain?” Marlix asked.

  “There is some discomfort with the infusion, and as she regenerates hemocytes, her bones will ache.”

  “What about her wounds?”

  “I shall attempt a repair. Afterward, she must remain quiet and still for a few days to allow her body to complete the healing. I must cleanse her wounds before I can begin the process.” The physician glanced at Urazi. “Could you bring me a basin with some water?”

  Urazi nodded, left, and reappeared moments later with a sloshing bowl and cloths for washing and drying. Marlix gritted his teeth as the physician dabbed at Tara’s wounds. He thought he heard her moan, but the anger buzzing in his ears drowned the sound. Females, betas, even alphas catered to his whim. He had never performed a menial task in his life, but he had the strangest urge to shove the physician aside and bathe Tara himself. Where was his disgust? His repugnance? He balled his hands at his sides.

  He caught Urazi staring at him, and he glared until his beta dropped his gaze.

  Once the physician completed the cleansing, Marlix could see the superficiality of most of Tara’s wounds, but a few cut deep, and one gaped to reveal the underlying muscle. He squeezed his fists tighter. If he’d gotten a better look at the other betas who’d attacked her, he would have had them found and justice served. Severe justice. But it was too late now. The doctor removed another apparatus from his bag. The tiny device emitted a slim beam of light, which he trained over each of Tara’s wounds. Marlix widened his eyes as the gashes knit together, including the deep one. Perhaps the physician had achieved some measure of competence. By the time he finished, her wounds looked as if they had been on the mend for weeks instead of having just been incurred.

  “Her body will have to do the rest,” the med tech announced.

  “That device—” Marlix watched as it disappeared into the case. “It could help in battle to heal war wounds.”

  The physician’s mouth twisted wryly before his expression went blank. “If an alpha would accept the assistance.” He stood. “You might cover her. She is cold.”

  Marlix assessed Tara. Her skin had broken out into a raised colorless rash, and her nipples had hardened to points.

  “Remember,” the doctor continued, “let her rest for several days, so she can heal before you use her again.” Next time, be careful. Though he did not say it, his face reflected his thoughts.

  “You think I did that to her?” Marlix thundered.

  The physician shrank back. “No, Commander. I did not mean—”

  Urazi hustled him out of the room.

  Marlix paced, stomping on the stone floor. Under his orchestration, a reputation for ruthlessness, even brutality, had spread throughout his province and beyond. It used to amuse him when Commander Dak would reach for his weapon upon his approach. The only Alpha more feared was Qalin.

  But Marlix’s infamy resulted from fabrication. He had committed few of the acts attributed to him. And he did not inflict injury on females. Not deliberately, anyway. One fought worthy adversaries—not defenseless feleen cubs.

  He should have executed the other betas. Marlix smacked his fist into his palm. They might have killed her if he hadn’t intervened. He glanced at her and noticed she shivered. He grunted and pulled off h
is shirt and draped it over her body. She was so small; the garment covered her from shoulder to knee. He would have Urazi bring her a sleeping cover.

  His beta at that moment reentered the room and cast his gaze on the shirt draping Tara’s body.

  “The physician said to keep her warm,” Marlix explained.

  “That is not all he said. May I speak with you outside, Marlix?”

  Marlix raised his eyebrows. “What else?”

  Urazi lifted his chin and gestured with his head that they should leave the room. What could his beta have to report that could not be said in front of an unconscious female? And thinking of such, he wished he’d asked the physician how long it would be before she awakened.

  Marlix followed Urazi into the corridor. “What is it?”

  “She is not unconscious.”

  “What?”

  “The physician said her bioscan readings were consistent with alertness. She is pretending to be comatose.”

  Chapter Four

  The two men left the room, and Tara expelled her breath in a whoosh and opened her eyes. She’d worked as an artist’s nude model for a couple of years to pay the bills, so she had practice remaining motionless, but still it was tiring. After a while, every muscle screamed to move, worsened by her wounds, which had hurt like motherfuckers. She’d been too panicked at first to realize the extent of her injuries. With the men gone, she stretched, noting most of the discomfort had vanished, although her bones had begun to ache like the doctor had predicted. But whatever he had done to her seemed to be working.

  She’d almost given herself away when he’d shot something into her neck. It hadn’t hurt much, but the jolt had been unexpected. And she had had to lie there stark naked while the alien doctor treated her and two other males watched. Sheesh!