Alien Creep: An Alien Shifter Romance (Alien Abductors Book 1)

by Calista Skye

  Maybe it's that it's been a while for him, too, and as he learns every little quirk of my body, he gets more eager.

  Or its about the big mission hes planning. I think it will be both dangerous and complicated, and that has to stress him out.

  But I think it's probably the mission to rescue Emma he thinks about. The way we plan it, I will take part in it. And I think he worries about protecting me. Well, the Resistance trained me pretty well, and I'm not too worried. Xan'tor comes from a warrior clan, and he obviously knows how to fight if it becomes necessary.

  The whole operation is based on stealth, and I'm feeling pretty confident about it as the planning proceeds. Crirux has good sources for information about the Bululg and their doings, and he's often away, gathering more. His sources are now saying that Emma is being held in the same base where I was before I was taken up to space. We'll be ready for anything.

  - - -

  Finally, it's the last night before we're going to rescue Emma, and Xan'tor has fucked me slowly and passionately and made my climax last so long I almost start to worry about burning out the nerve endings in my pussy.

  I cling to him, totally exhausted in the best possible way, my clit super sensitive.

  “You are crazy-good,” I pant.

  “You're not so bad, yourself.”

  “All I do is just lie there.”

  He kisses my cheek. “Thankfully, that's all the job needs. That and making horny sounds and getting wet and then climaxing. You do it all wonderfully well.”

  “You can tell me the truth. Don't worry. I'm not going to stop letting you do this. Mostly because it would probably hurt me more than you.”

  He chuckles. “It would hurt me plenty. I actually have no complaints. I like that you… how shall I put this… submit enthusiastically. Letting me deal with you as I please. It's the best thing you can do for any man. And probably for yourself. Or so I imagine.”

  I nuzzle the side of his chest, filling my nose with his scent. “I'll take it. Actually, I have an idea for next time. You might like it.”

  “I'm sure I will.”

  “If we survive tomorrow.”

  He doesn't reply, and that worries me more than most things.

  Drawing little X-es over his ring-shaped spots with my fingertip, I clear my throat. “You're bringing in a lot of weapons to the base.”

  He stretches. “So you noticed.”

  “I have wanted to ask you this for a while, Xan'tor. So I'll just blurt it out: are you a soldier for hire? I mean, you and the other guys?”

  He sighs. “Yes.”

  “So you don't just do transport stuff?”

  “Not very often, no.”

  “And you work for the Bululg.”

  His tail rubs up against my calf, soft and supple. “Sometimes.”

  “Fighting wars for them?”

  “It's mostly security work. Scouting, perimeter control. Gathering intelligence. That kind of stuff. I probably should have told you this. It's just that there is a degree of secrecy involved in most of the things we do. I'd prefer not to give you burdens of knowledge that you don't want.”

  I wipe the imaginary X-es out with my palm, his blue skin smooth and living under me. “It's okay. I appreciate that. But I was just thinking, if at some point you decide to help me and the Resistance, then you would make a serious difference. As an experienced mercenary. Probably.”

  His chest heaves under my arm. “Probably.”

  We lie in silence for a while. The old spaceship that is our base hums around us, from all sides. You can only hear it when it's really quiet.

  I rub my cheek against his chest. “Do you think we will be able to get Emma?”

  “It never crossed my mind that we wouldn't.”

  “Okay. Xan'tor. Whatever happens tomorrow, I just want you to know that I'm grateful. For everything you've done for me. I know it came at a cost. Hopefully, that cost wasn't too high.”

  He embraces me and pulls me to him, harder than he ever has before. “For this, for having you here, now, this close – no cost would be too high.”

  Kissing his his upper chest, I luxuriate in his warmth and smoothness and manly scent. I seriously can't believe I once took him for a creep.

  - - -

  The saucer-like ship touches down, and Frox comes down to the lounge. “The scopes show that the coast is clear. There are human guards, but they are far away and won't be here for a good while. Let me check you. Xan'tor, you look ridiculous with only shorts on.”

  “I have my reasons, as you well know,” Xan'tor grumbles. “I have ruined enough of my pants by now.”

  “I know that,” Frox agrees. “You always come home with them flapping around your legs after a mission. Mila, you look like a commando about to carry out a daring raid. Which is funny, because you really are one. Hmm. It actually may not be that funny.”

  I look down myself. I'm wearing an alien camouflage suit, soft and supple, but with seven million tiny sequins completely covering it. They're almost microscopic mirrors that each have a tiny, artificial muscle controlling them, so they can reflect light in a calculated way that makes me invisible.

  That's the theory, anyway. Right now I look more like a circus act than a soldier. But Prash assured me that it would work, and he also gave me an additional suit for Emma. It's in my backpack.

  Xan'tor has no such suit. I guess they don't make one his size. He also has no visible weapon, which both worries me and reassures me. The plan is based on not being seen, and he says that his kind of weapons would be too easy to track.

  He's pretty morose today, which isn't that weird. It's a difficult mission at an installation that's owned by his richest customers, so he's risking a lot. And he's not thrilled that I'm coming. We both know how bad it would be for me if I were caught again. But I argued that Emma will need to see a friendly face if she is to come along peacefully and not try to kill herself. I have no idea which preparations she has made, but she knows the orders we have if captured, and she probably has thought of a way to end it all if necessary.

  I have a small, but powerful taser-like device in my belt. I was not able to convince Xan'tor to let me bring the pipe bomb. I kind of understand why – it's like preparing to fail. I would only use it if we lose this whole thing and I'm in danger of getting caught again, but he wouldn't hear of it.

  We're both wearing advanced visors that show us an augmented version of everything we look at as clear as day. Any object I focus on gets zoomed in, and everything gets a thin, barely noticeable frame around it, denoting level of threat. I've specified that blue is neutral, green is friendly, and red is hostile.

  I feel pretty well equipped. This is the kind of things that the Resistance would make really good use of. And still, I'm so nervous I'm close to throwing up. I was like that last time, too, when Emma and I raided this place and were busted. Back then the anxiety was gone the moment the action was going and I could do something. Nothing kills anxiety like action does. I hope it's like that this time, too.

  The hatch opens and cool night air seeps in. It smells of dirt and trees. Of home.

  Xan'tor steps out and walks confidently towards the outer perimeter of the base.

  I carefully follow, looking around and enjoying the one hundred percent correct gravity. It makes me feel a little bit heavy, but it also reminds me that this is my planet. Strangely, that makes me confident, too. I'm on home turf.

  Xan'tor's alien devices mean that we don't have to worry at all about being detected by cameras or trip wires or any other kinds of Earth tech – it's shown in our visors in great detail. We'll avoid wires and such things, but the electronic detectors and cameras will be so badly jammed by our own devices that they're not a threat at all.

  With Xan'tor in front, we make our meandering way past detectors and paths until we're at the main entrance to the base. The door Emma and I used when we tried to burgle the place is on the other side of the structure. But now we'll be waltzing in th
e main gates like we own the place. We're invisible to any human guards, at least the ones watching screens. I doubt Xan'tor would go unnoticed if a sentry stumbled upon us, though.

  I also doubt the door is unlocked and unguarded on the inside.

  “Get ready,” Xan'tor whispers when we're standing outside it, fiddling with a small box that contains mysterious alien technology that can unlock any door without touching it.

  I hold out the taser like I learned to use a handgun. This is the only part where we expect to meet human resistance – we don't know for sure, but we think there may be guards on the inside of the door. Mostly, we think that because I think that, and one of the many things I like about Xan'tor is that he takes my suggestions seriously.

  The door slides aside, and Xan'tor storms inside, followed by me.

  There's nobody here.

  It's actually not a big room at all, just the size of a classroom. Six doors lead off into different directions, and thanks to Crirux's information, we know exactly which one to use.

  The visor superimposes a map of the whole base in front of my eyes and subtly grays out the doors that are not the right ones. The right one pulsates slowly. It's like playing a video game, a shooter that always shows you what to do. I usually didn't like that, but now it's a feature I wish I could have in other parts of my life.

  Xan'tor goes first, and the door appears unlocked. It just vanishes, like the doors did the last time I was here. The smell is the same as back then, too, rot and decay. It's the smell of Bululg.

  We slowly make our way further into the base.

  There is no sound anywhere, no movement. No life.

  “I would have expected to see an alien or two by now,” Xan'tor whispers. “This is the least active Bululg base I have ever seen. They don't like things to be idle and unused.”

  I can only nod, not sure I mind that lack of defenders or enemies. And soon I might see Emma again! I allow myself a short smile.

  We enter the prison sector of the base. I recognize the corridor and the cell doors. Now we have to determine which one Emma is behind. Crirux had no information about that. There are at least thirty cell doors.

  “We'll take one at a time,” Xan'tor says. “Stand back, I will open them.”

  28

  - Mila -

  Xan'tor’s electronic device opens the first door.

  Inside is a darkened cell.

  I peer past Xan'tor's huge bulk. “Huh. Nobody in there.”

  He opens the next one. Just an empty cell.

  I start to get a bad and ominous feeling about this whole thing, and it only gets worse as we open one door after the other and find all the cells empty.

  Finally the last door opens, and there's nobody here.

  “Are there more cell blocks?” I hiss, trying to scroll around the map in my visor.

  “Crirux said there was only one.”

  “Don't tell me we have to search through this whole base—”

  We both freeze as a sound resonates through the corridor. It's some kind of slithering and scraping, and I feel my heart in my throat when I realize that it is the sound I heard last time, right before…

  The light goes out, but the visor lets me still see as clear as day. Lots of alien creatures are starting to fill up the other end of the corridor, coming at us fast. The visor frames them all in red, but it's not necessary – they're fresks and girku, the deadly guard aliens.

  Xan'tor pushes me behind him. “Stay close,” he says tightly. “Use your weapon if anything gets past me. We'll move backwards.”

  Shit, he's tense. I've never seen him like this before, and it scares me more than the alien predators coming towards us.

  I back away, aiming for the door at the other end of the corridor. That is where they took me before, when they were sending me to space.

  We back off, but the aliens are coming towards us fast, and when my butt hits the door, the closest fresk is only ten feet away. Green slime drips from its black teeth.

  Xan'tor uses his device to open the door, and I walk through it backwards.

  The air is suddenly fresh and cool. It's an open space, with the cloudy sky above.

  “This was a spaceship last time,” I explain as Xan'tor joins me and hurriedly closes the door behind us. “Now it's gone.”

  “Your sister hasn't been here for a long time,” Xan'tor says. “It's a trap.”

  I look around for an exit, panic tugging at the edges of my consciousness. “We have to get away!”

  The space is round and the walls must be thirty feet high. There is only the one door, and the alien watchmonsters could come through it at any time.

  Xan'tor suddenly turns and lifts me up. “Get on my back. Hang on for all you're worth.”

  I immediately comply, locking my arms around his neck from behind as well curling my legs around his waist.

  The door behind us opens, and a dark, deadly mass of fresks and girku explode into the open.

  Xan'tor's fingers and toes suddenly have long, curved claws coming out of them, and he starts climbing the sheer wall with me hanging onto his back.

  The air is full of an eerie, uneven whine, like an air raid siren gone wild. Coldness settles at the pit of my stomach when I realize that it's the fresks making that noise. I've heard it once before.

  The intelligent visor starts showing me an image of what's going on behind me. The monsters are getting very close.

  I let go of Xan'tor with one hand and point the taser down and back, aiming blindly. There's a sharp crack and a flash of blue light as I press the button, and one voice of the insane whine choir yelps loudly.

  Again and again I press the button, and some of the lightning bolts hit the fresk I aim at. The girku are keeping back, which is probably a good idea.

  Xan’tor climbs slowly. His claws can't get good purchase on the alien material of the walls. I can see him struggle with it. If he loses his grip now and we fall backwards, then there's a good chance I'll be crushed under his bulk. And then eaten by fresks.

  The aliens jump and snap their huge, stinking mouths at us, their whining so loud that I want to clamp my hands over my ears.

  Xan'tor reaches the top of the wall. It's rounded on the top, so he straddles it.

  He lifts me off his back and sets me down, my legs dangling on the outside. And it is really the outside – I can see grass and weeds and trees in the distance. But the drop is much longer than on the other side.

  “Hmm,” he says. “That's quite a fall. But they can't reach you up here. In that suit, I even doubt they can see you. Will you be able to stay up here alone for a moment? Without falling down?”

  “Yes, but don't you think— look!” I point. In the distance, small red-framed specks are coming closer from the side, too.

  Xan'tor rumbles something that has to be a curse. “On both sides. It changes nothing. Stay up here until I come to get you. I might be… different. Don't be alarmed.”

  He extends his claws again and quickly climbs halfway down, then drops and lands in a powerful crouch that speaks of the incredible strength of his thigh muscles. Then he sprints off towards the closing aliens. These are only fresks, and they're as big as horses. All of them converge on Xan'tor.

  “That can't be good,” I mutter. There must be twenty of the brutal alien beasts, and Xan'tor is only one man. An unusually large man, but human-ish all the same. How can he have any hope of surviving a fight with even one of those things?

  I look behind me. The fresks on this side have all left, and only tentacled girku remain. But they have little poisoned needles on the ends of those tentacles, so it doesn't make me feel any better.

  Fuck. Emma wasn't here. A trap, Xan'tor said. They must have known we were coming.

  And if it wasn't true that she was here, then there's a good chance none of the other information we got about her was true, either. She might in fact be dead or sold.

  The green-framed Xan'tor reaches the red-framed fresks, and the fight be
gins. I can't keep track of it at all – it's too far away, and the visors can't magnify the image much in this darkness. It looks like just a chaos of red and… red?

  My heart sinks in my chest. There's no green frame anymore, no figure that the visor designates as friendly. But still, there appears to be a fight going on. Are the fresks fighting each other?

  I almost panic when the next logical thought hits me: They're fighting over Xan'tor’s dead body.

  I go cold, but then my training kicks in. I have to get out of here on my own.

  The drop on the outside is too long, it will break every bone in my body. On the inside, there are only girku, and they are not too fast. They may also have trouble seeing me in this invisibility suit. I can sneak back through the base to the pickup point.

  I gaze once more over to the place where the fight is taking place. Just in the short moment I looked away, the chaos of red has come much closer. But there still seems to be a fight going on.

  I freeze. One of the red frames has separated from the others and is coming towards me, very fast.

  With trembling hands, I manually adjust the zoom on the visor.

  That doesn't look like a fresk.

  It's a monster, clearly. A nightmarish creature, huge and terrible. But the fresks run on six legs, and this one is much more upright. It bounces towards me in powerful bounds.

  That looks more like…

  Before I know it, the monster is below me, jumping two thirds of the wall and easily climbing the rest.

  I recoil in horror, but there's not much I can do, perched here, high up.

  The creature takes me in its huge arms and drops the fifty feet back down, landing with the lightness of a coiled spring and just runs.

  The fresks are not coming anymore. Many of them are on the ground, and the visor displays little X-es over them to show them as dead.

  The monster holds me close as it runs, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, it reminds me of the way Xan'tor holds me.

  And the smell… it's just like his.

  I squirm in the monster's hands so I can see it better.