Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  Did he …

  But he was continuing his train of thought. “I’m sorry you’ve fallen into … whatever we’re in the middle of.” He found her eyes again. “If I had any idea this would happen I never would’ve shown you that device. I never would let anything harm you.” All at once his gaze was so deeply tender, so serene, that, in that moment, before his handsome, pale blue eyes, under his wonderful, perfect gaze—after her thoughtless remarks and sitting as she was in the dirt, hair a mess, fingers and lips sticky like a kid eating a popsicle …

  In that moment she wanted to crawl under a rock.

  But Zac, wonderful, tender, amazing Zac, perceived her discomfort—he did; she knew he did—and advanced the moment.

  “So what else can this Superman do?”

  She cleared her throat. Sat straighter.

  “He flies,” she said. “He can shoot heat rays from his eyes. He’s got X-Ray vision.”

  “X-Ray vision?”

  “He can see through walls and clothes and stuff.”

  And again her embarrassment flared, but she brushed it aside. So what if Zac could see through clothes? He couldn’t, of course, but so what if he could?

  And the thought struck her: Could he?

  What else could he do they hadn’t yet discovered?

  “You can’t fly, can you?” She looked at him sideways, not really believing he could.

  He considered the idea. “How does Superman do it?”

  “I don’t know. By his will? He can float and whatever. When he flies he just kind of points his arm at the sky and … off he goes.”

  Game for trying, Zac stood and took a few steps away. Jess watched him, amused and a little thrilled. Curious with what the result might be.

  Could he?

  How cool would that be?

  He looked at her. Then …

  Snapped an arm over his head, looking into the sky, and for an instant she tingled with the possibility of him actually launching into the air but …

  Nothing.

  Nervously she smiled, goose bumps crawling over every inch of her.

  Zac adjusted position, having fun with this.

  “Does he do anything else?”

  “Um, actually ... I think he says ‘Up, up and away!’”

  Zac nodded, looked back up along his outstretched arm and commanded: “Up, up and away!”

  Nothing.

  There he stood.

  She giggled. His clowning was infectious.

  “Louder,” she encouraged.

  “Up up and away!” he shouted—quite loud—way louder than humanly possible, way louder than he meant, she was sure, voice booming from the hills—and both of them recoiled.

  “Whoa,” he looked at her sheepishly. Shocked at his own volume. “Did Superman have a super yell?”

  She was only able to nod, stunned by the echo of the thunderous below, still striking back from the surrounding hills.

  Zac could be frickin’ loud if he wanted.

  Managing a shrug, she said: “Pretty much everything about him was super.”

  Zac dropped the flying pose and stood where he was, looking at her again with that unwavering stare.

  Unbearably irresistible in nothing but the black boxers.

  She swallowed.

  Tall, muscular. So handsome ...

  And they were alone. Far, far from anything she knew. In the woods, on an alien world where anything was possible.

  She felt flush with a sudden rush of desire.

  “Sounds kind of boring,” he concluded. “An invincible hero? No challenge? Nothing to stop him? Doesn’t seem like that would make for a very good story.”

  Then his expression changed, subtly, and he turned away, attention drawn to something else. He cocked his head a little, listening to the distant wind—like a puppy hearing a noise. And as he stood there her captivation only grew. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from him. She tried. She felt what was happening and oh how she tried. His broad, wonderful back. Narrow waist. Strong legs. The muscles of his arms …

  He turned back to her and she jerked her eyes forcibly away, taking a clumsy bite of fruit.

  “He had Kryptonite,” she spoke quickly to cover the moment of blatant leering, talking around the food in her mouth. “A green stone that made him lose his powers. That was his biggest challenge.” She swallowed harshly.

  “Kryptonite was his weakness?”

  She nodded. “That and the vulnerability of those he loved.”

  Zac thought of that.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, considering how that could be. “That would definitely be a weakness.

  “I’d hate to lose you, for example.”

  She took another bite, eating now in earnest. Don’t say that. Her heart raced. Please don’t.

  “So I guess I can’t fly,” he walked back; stopped nearby to concentrate his stare on a patch of ground—as if willing something to happen. “No heat vision,” he reported. Then he looked at her, intensely, studying her in a way that only made the emotions surging through her race ever more out of control.

  “No X-Ray vision.”

  And he grinned, a mischievous little grin that was at once cute and terribly sexy, and once again she had to look away.

  Then he sat beside her. Right beside her, knees so close they touched as he plopped down cross-legged and her senses absolutely whirled. His presence was suddenly overwhelming. Hadn’t they just been talking? Hadn’t everything just been fine? Now …

  “Well,” he said, picking up a husk. “Looks like I’m no Superman.”

  “You’re closer than you think,” she mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, not believing she said it out loud—cramming another bite in to stop the words. She chewed hard, knowing her cheeks looked like a chipmunk’s but she had to make herself be quiet. All at once the moment was too much. The events of the past day, the wide unknown that lay before them, Zac’s heady presence ...

  Her heart pounded.

  She wanted so badly to kiss him.

  Only this time Zac didn’t give her a way out. He forged on, unknowingly, innocently, drawing her in.

  “Guess it’s not all about super powers, is it?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, picking at his own fruit. So close. No meaning in his proximity. No significance.

  To her it held all the significance in the world.

  “Take you for example,” he went on. “No super powers. Yet you’re strong. And you can’t even pick your own lunch.” He chuckled. She swallowed the big bunch of fruit in her mouth, with difficulty, and laughed politely. Nervous, drawn into his eyes though she tried so desperately to look away. She felt the bare skin of their knees brushing, ever so slightly, each light touch racing through her like a shockwave.

  Why is this happening?!

  She couldn’t get control.

  “For you to be sitting here,” he continued, “like this, after everything that’s happened. I think an average person would still be in shock.” He truly was in awe. All she wanted was to kiss him. “You’re powerful, Jessica. Don’t ask me how I know this.” Juice glistened on his lips. Their faces were so close; his from his earnest delivery, hers because slowly, unconsciously, she kept leaning toward him. “No normal person would’ve held up like you have.”

  And he smiled; that wonderful, wonderful smile she wanted to see always. She could feel his body heat radiating in the cool air. An illusion, she was sure, but she could swear she felt it. Was convinced she could smell him, his musky scent, and in a flash of clarity thought he must be absolutely spewing pheromones. That or her own hormones were raging. Or both. It wasn’t normal how he was affecting her in that moment. Her heart beat so fast …

  Surely he must hear it.

  Something drew his attention to her mouth and he reached for it, strong thumb making contact with her lips as she suppressed a shudder. He brushed whatever it was away, probably a little piece of fruit, then around the edges, lingering, wiping away the rest of the stickiness,
thoroughly, and she had to fight so hard not to shake. Part of her knew what he did was harmless, meaningless, but the sensuality of it—his firm touch; the smooth, rough skin of his fingertip—it was finally more than she could bear.

  She nearly sucked his thumb right into her mouth.

  Just get up and walk away! she begged him. There was no way she could do it. She thought to ask for more water—anything—but couldn’t even speak.

  “This stuff is a mess.” He remained casual, nonchalant, looking down to wipe his hand on his boxers.

  And when he looked up …

  What are you doing?!

  She leaned in and kissed him. Right on his sticky lips. Shuddering as she did, the fierce combination of nerves and ecstasy sending her over the edge. It was too bold; it was heaven. Nirvana, wrapped in fear. An impulse that was not to be denied. She kissed him, tasting him, feeling his soft lips, his warm breath. Wanting more. Wanting to grab him, press all the way into him and not ever pull away.

  But fear gripped her and she withdrew.

  And she was no longer able to suppress the tremors that rocked her. It was like an icy chill, and the next second she was shaking and couldn’t stop.

  No!

  This was terrible!

  Running away would only make it worse, tons worse, but right then it was the only thing she wanted to do.

  Flee.

  Did he even kiss me back? Too consumed with her own feelings in that moment, she hadn’t even noticed. But … he hadn’t pulled away. He wasn’t reacting. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t stunned …

  Yet, neither was he making a move of his own.

  Why?! Why?! Why?! She nearly smacked herself. Nearly gave in to the impulse to flee, leapt up and ran into the trees. Stupid!

  Only … his focus was elsewhere. Just now, as if suddenly sensing something beyond the kiss. Beyond their immediate vicinity. He was listening again, as if to a distant sound.

  Slowly he continued to sit straighter, now so consumed with the identification of whatever new thing he heard … her impulsive, reckless deed was already a fading memory. At once she felt relieved and …

  Empty.

  As much as she wanted to forget the embarrassing thing she just did, to put it behind her, at the same time she wanted desperately to know how he felt. What was he thinking?

  But it was too late.

  “Do you hear it?” he started to stand, concerned.

  She swallowed and worked to concentrate. If she strained she could make out the sounds of battle miles away, a persistent noise that had faded into the back of her awareness. Above that … Yes. Now she did. Like a distant jet, moving in the faraway sky. Closing. Louder it came, too far away to see. Powerful.

  Actually, now that it grew more clear, less of a jet, more the steady roar of a rocket.

  “Over here,” Zac pulled her to her feet, taking her behind a large tree. Pointedly he eyed their little encampment as it drew closer. The remains of half-eaten fruit littered depressions in the dirt, at the middle of that the little, smoldering fire. Any casual glance would scream, People were here! All at the edge of the woods, easily visible from the air.

  “Probably wasn’t the best place to build a camp,” he said over the approaching thunder, trying to make light of what they couldn’t fix.

  Then, abruptly, the source of the thunder came to view and Jess recoiled. A giant, black machine, trimmed in gold, moving methodically through the air, high above.

  She caught her breath. Made herself exhale all the way, the stolen kiss now a complete thing of the past.

  Breathe!

  The machine was like a giant metal hornet, or a beetle, no wings or legs; angled, with deep grooves and protrusions and covered in armored plates, adorned with markings like those of the samurai robot units back in the city. It was an airship the size of a small building, probably a hundred feet in length, stunningly loud, warbling waves of heat shimmering in hot columns that streamed from star-bright engine ports beneath, holding it aloft, a testament to its mass.

  And, like the powered armor, the moon, the trees, the sun, the city and each other thing that had, in their turn, confirmed for her with certainty that she was far, far from home, the giant, flying warship drove that point home with a vengeance.

  This was most definitely not Earth.

  Slowly it came, scanning the hills and trees. About to discover them. Then, as if hearing her thoughts, it moved directly over the clearing, blocking the sun with its shadow. At that range its engines were intolerably loud, shockwaves pummeling the countryside—rattling Jessica’s teeth, blurring her vision, the mere sound of it moving the air with such force her hair stood on end …

  It moved closer; then to a hover.

  Landing gear unfolded. One massive strut at the front, two at the rear, and it began to descend.

  Coming for them.

  CHAPTER 14: DISCOVERED

  Six of Kang’s personal attendants stood behind him, rigid in their dark armor with gold trim, ornamental faceplates showing only an expression of war. Kang stood on the command bridge of his airship, shirtless, wearing his black fighting pants, boots and gloves. He stared with disdain at the wide video screen spanning the front of his battle frigate, waiting as they thundered slowly on descent.

  “Magnify that area,” he commanded, even as landing gear extended and locked for landing. They came level with the tops of the trees. Onscreen the ordered images were enhanced.

  Kang was Kazerai. The “Hand of God”. One of the top fighting warriors of the Dominion, leader of an entire legion serving the Shogun and, ultimately, the God Emperor himself. He Who Sat in Waiting, at the pinnacle of Vivitak, the great spire in the heart of Osaka. The Kazerai were always five in number, elite warriors—four since days ago, when Horus vanished in a flash of light—and in the absence of Horus, Kang was their highest ranked. Now Horus was back, right there on the screen in those enhanced images, and Kang was coming for him. Coming to bring the rogue in for justice. Heat signatures showed the two bodies hiding in the woods; one most definitely Kang’s objective, Horus, the other the mystery girl from the video.

  Kang studied Horus on the monitor screen, displayed at various scanning frequencies along with a stream of telemetry info and other data. Horus. Great warrior. Inspiration to millions. Kazerai of Osaka. Now thief of the sacred Icon. Crouched in the woods in his underwear, hiding behind a tree.

  His comrade had truly fallen.

  “Stand by,” he said to the pilot, who sat at the fore of the command area, near the craft’s thin forward windows.

  “Yes, my liege.”

  The thrum of the mighty engines crescendoed through the superstructure, hammering bones even through its great, solid mass. Landing one of these heavy beasts was always a violent affair.

  Kang grinned.

  As they touched down he turned and strode from the bridge, back along the central corridor to a debarkation port on that side of the craft. His attendants followed and took up position behind.

  * *

  Jess clenched her jaw, hands squeezed as hard as she could against ears and skull, unable to beat back the raging force of the sound. Nothing helped. Her back was turned and her eyes were screwed shut, no way to block the impossible fury of sonic destruction as the alien craft made its final descent. There was nothing graceful about it, no gentle current of air on which it flew, no softly humming field of purest energy to hold it aloft. The thing assaulted the senses like a brute; a volume of force she thought might actually kill her. Nozzled rockets blasted the terrain like a hurricane before she was finally forced to turn, squeezing all the way behind the tree as dirt and burned grass flew at her in a pelting cloud of debris.

  She thought for sure the tree itself would be blown away.

  Then it stopped. Abruptly. She waited a few more seconds lest it fire up again, then, slowly, released her ears. Then opened her eyes, blinking in the dissipating maelstrom. Zac remained crouched beside her, staring at the craft as he had b
een all along. Neither the sound nor the energy of its landing seemed to bother him. She turned further and took a closer look. It was on the ground now, in the clearing. Dominating the view through the trees, matte black, golden sunburst prominent on the side; trimmed with insignia that looked like dragonflies or hornets.

  Someone moved through one of the thin forward windows. In her heightened state of alert she noticed other things. Recessed channels along the sides could be nothing other than gun mounts, a turret perched flush against the top. The clearing beneath the ship was scorched, black but not burning, force of the thrust having extinguished the terrain as quickly as it lit it. After the shock of the landing things were now frighteningly calm. All Jess could hear was the ringing in her ears.

  “Running won’t help,” Zac broke the spell, voice dull in her throbbing senses. He seemed to be calculating options. Jess could only stare at him, petrified. In that moment she depended on him utterly.

  Then a door opened with a hiss, on the side, lowered slowly and formed a ramp. The landed craft sat about a dozen feet off the ground, the ramp extending from that height to the dirt below. For a long moment nothing else happened. Then through the door stepped a man who, at first, looked to be a smaller version of Zac. Jess shook her head and looked again. Dressed in black pants, no shirt, wearing boots and a pair of gloves. Lean and muscular, he was cut like Zac, though more skinny and shorter. Unlike Zac this guy had pronounced Asian features, with spiked black and blonde hair that, combined with his sneer, made him look at once like a pompous ass. His cocky stride as he walked down the ramp only seemed to confirm this and, without anything further to go by, Jess decided at once she didn’t like him.

  Zac must’ve come to the same conclusion. “Guess now we know who the bad guys are,” he said. She tried to appreciate his calm confidence, but the scenario was far too terrifying.

  Then his expression changed and he put a hand to her cheek. “Thank you,” he said, large palm warm against her skin. On impulse she put her own on top of his—not sure what this was about but holding on tightly. He smiled; a light smile, an echo of that warm, wonderful tenderness she’d already grown to love.