NYC Vamps: Roman: Vampire Romance

by Sky Winters

  But she hadn’t turned her back on the NYPD. She knew her place was here with Roman, and together, not only could they fight off the vampires who sought to take their city from them, but root out their influence on every institution of the city government.

  For now, however, they could rest. Her head against Roman’s bare chest, she looked out of the window and into the night sky, at the moon in its nascent wane. Their future was uncertain, but she knew whatever would happen, they’d face it together.

  Alien Romances

  Alien Lord’s Slave

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cynthia had been staring at the same spreadsheet for what seemed like too long. She was supposed to submit her analysis of the rolling budget her manager had prepared from the costings she'd provided. All she had to do was to simply cross reference the figures to see if they matched, nothing that should have taken her three hours, but it was hard to concentrate when her husband’s face kept popping to the forefront of her mind.

  And it wasn't only his face, either, but the face of the woman she had caught him with as well. After five years of marriage, she had thought her life with him, though not perfect, was good enough to last a few more years. She certainly didn’t think it would end in this way.

  “Cynthia!” she heard her boss call. His office was only three cubicles away, and he had a terrible habit of calling to his employees from there.

  “Coming, Mr. Sloan,” she replied, and stood hurriedly. She would just have to wing it. She smoothed her skirt and gripped the file in her hand; it contained the same information as the one in the Microsoft Excel document.

  Sloan was drinking coffee when she arrived. He waved her inside as he sipped and then put the cup aside. He didn’t speak as he took the file she handed to him. “So?” he asked her.

  “Well,” she began unsteadily, “the performance variables show that more revenue is being generated than costs are being expended. If you look at the curve--”

  “Right,” he said, nodding. “But how does the budget appear this year with respect to other years before? And are we accurately accounting for the time value of the dollars here? Miss Scott, I don’t want to allocate less than we need, nor do I want to overspend in areas I don’t need to.”

  There had been times before when she loved her job, but this wasn’t one of them. Mr. Sloan was speaking, but most of what he was saying was going right over her head. She felt like a zombie, and Jeffrey’s image came to mind once more, and her eyes grew glossy. She bowed her head so he wouldn’t see the telltale signs of her heartbreak.

  “Miss Scott?” he asked after a while.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, and tried hard to perk up. She swept her hair behind her ear, and licked her lips moist. She felt like all the liquid in her body had been diverted to her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. He looked at her as if concerned, rested the file on the desk, and leaned into his leather chair.

  She sighed. “Honestly, I am just going through some personal issues,” she told him without looking at him.

  He bit the tail of his pen and scrutinized her. Then he opened his file and looked through it again. “I guess that explains why you didn’t get much done here. I see the notes section has been left empty.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said as she reached for the file. “I will look it over and give it back to you by day’s end.”

  He held it suspended still, and then rested it back on the desk before him. “Cynthia,” he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “you are one of my youngest and brightest analysts, and I won’t have you here like this. My suggestion? Take a few days off and get your head together. I'll have someone handle this and hopefully, when you get back, you will be raring to go.”

  He was smiling, and seemed sincere in his offer. “Are you sure, sir? I mean, I could--”

  “Nonsense!” he bellowed. “I’ll expect you back in a week.

  She asked, not wanting to seem too eager, but the truth of the matter was she could really use some time off. “Thank you, Mr. Sloan,” she said, and backed out of the office. She could feel the weight lifting from her shoulders, but another kind of pressure was taking hold of her heart.

  She kept her head held down as she made her way out of the office, trying not to grab the attention of her nosy coworkers, but they seemed too distracted by the loads of work that accompanied the month's end that she probably appeared to them as nothing more than a blur in the distance.

  When she got to her car, she flopped down into the seat, and took a moment to catch her breath and steady her heart before she turned the key in the ignition and headed home.

  Home was where most of her demons lay. As she pulled into the driveway of her suburban home, the manicured lawn only served to remind her of their picnics in the park; her stoop was where they'd sat many nights and stargazed; her kitchen was where they'd shared delectable dinners; and her bedroom…that was a place she could hardly stand now.

  She gazed up the stairs, decided against it, went to the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer, a six-pack she had bought and befriended over the past week. Cynthia went back to the living room and fell on the couch. This time she couldn’t hold back the tears, despite the beer.

  She was knee deep in her salty lake of tears when she heard the phone ringing. She glanced at it, and groaned before reaching for the device.

  “Hello?” she croaked.

  “Is this Miss Cynthia Scott?” the caller asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, already planning a response for the potential telemarketer.

  “This is Sally, from Wildlife Reservations. Are you still interested in the cabin?”

  That’s right! She had made plans to go there with Jeffrey, and completely forgotten about it. She was about to refuse when she thought that a week to herself was exactly what she needed.

  “You know what? Yes, I'm still interested. Thanks for calling,” she said.

  “Okay, Miss Scott,” the caller replied cheerfully, and hung up.

  The timing was perfect, as she only now had a week to spare. Her trip would, hopefully, leave her rejuvenated for her return to the office. Her mind drifted to Jeffrey, and she wondered what he was doing. Her first assumption made her face grow red, and she stomped to the storage cabinet where she yanked her suitcase free and hauled it upstairs.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The air was crisp, kind and forgiving, and she held her head up towards the green and yellow blanket of leaves overhead. The sun forced its way through, hitting her arms and feet, projecting colored patterns on her clothes and body. She was barefoot at the moment, and she wriggled her toes in the cool grass as she enjoyed all that nature had to offer by way of comfort. She wrapped the shawl around her to stave off the morning's stubborn chill, and walked along the path. For the next few minutes her mind had completely forgotten the name Jeffrey, and her lips managed an upward slant.

  She found the boardwalk at the beginning of the pier and walked to the water’s edge. She sat there and dangled her feet in the water, enjoying the coolness on her skin. Her eyes wandered along the water’s edge, all the way to the coast, until a glint struck her eye, causing temporary blindness.

  “What the hell?” she asked. She held her head back this time, trying to avoid the effect, should it happen again, when she noticed what she thought was a piece of metal through the trees. “Now that’s odd,” she thought aloud. She had been there before, and technology was usually absent from this environment. A piece of metal through the trees was a virtually impossible occurrence, yet there it was now, distinct through the green and yellow foliage.

  As if in a trance she got up, went back down the boardwalk, and back on the trail. She kept her eyes peeled forward, searching for any signs of a possible wreckage. Maybe a small plane had crashed and there were injured people out there. The thought of that made her walk faster, until she got to where she thought she had seen the object, only nothing was there now. She turned about, thinking maybe she had v
eered onto the wrong path, but when she looked through the trees, she could see the end of the pier where she was sitting before. She was standing in the right spot, but there was nothing metallic and shiny there.

  “I must be losing it,” she muttered to herself. She pulled the shawl around her and turned to walk back. Her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the figure standing before her. It was like a man, only not. He was tall, and his skin a ‘whiter shade of pale.’ His yellow hair was pinned at his nape in a ponytail, and he wore only trousers; the rest of his body was painted in black and white swirls going around his middle and to his back. It was hard not to notice his bulging muscles, except, of course, when she was noticing that he wasn’t human.

  Her eyes nearly popped from her sockets when he stepped closer. She started to retreat, but in the same moment, the gleam struck her eye again, and she noticed the metal object.

  “Over here!” she said and waved, in a desperate bid to distract him. It worked. When he turned to look, she dashed off in the opposite direction. The fact that she hadn’t worked out in a long time, or even ran anywhere, for that matter, made it easy for the muscled alien to catch up with her. She screamed when she felt his shadow clawing at her, and when he grabbed her, they both fell. His hand came down over mouth, and then she smelled something awful. By the time her brain had registered the smell, her head was spinning, as were the trees above her. The last thing she saw was the smile on his face as he brought his face closer to hers.

  ************

  Cynthia woke suddenly from her sleep, and the act gave her a terrible headache. She rested her palms against her temples to quell the rising pressure there, and looked around her. She could barely make anything out, but when her eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw that she was in the company of several other women. They were slowly waking up, too, some had already woken, and all of them seemed frightened. This was exactly the emotion she should be feeling, but for some reason, she felt only numb instead.

  “Oh, you are all awake,” the figure said as he entered the room. He turned on the blue lights, and she saw that he was the same man she had seen on the trail.

  “What is this?” one woman asked.

  He looked at her as if he was about to answer and then turned to the other women. “I am Bracken, and I am from the planet Argon. You have been specially chosen to be life mates for our men,” he told them. “Right about now you should be feeling a slight pinch on your arms, right there,” he said, indicating the bicep region.

  All eyes focused there, and Cynthia could hardly believe she hadn’t noticed it before. “What is that?” she managed to ask.

  “That is how we will be able to communicate. Relax, and enjoy the trip,” he said, and moved off.

  “Hey, Bracken,” she called after him. She had had enough of men at the moment, and she could hardly believe they were sailing off into space with a cargo of women destined to become wives for alien husbands. That was the last thing she wanted.

  He stopped and turned toward her. “Do not speak to me,” he said, condescendingly.

  “I will speak to anyone or anything I please,” she replied. “You came to our world and kidnapped us, and you expect me to be silent and fall in line? That’s not going to happen, and if you think I'm going to this Argon place to sleep with any of--” And that was all she said.

  She had not seen the other man behind them who had walked stealthily up behind her and knocked her unconscious.

  CHAPTER THREE

  This time, when Cynthia’s eyes reopened, the headache was worse, and she was no longer in the room. Or that room, at least. This time she was shackled to a chain of women, in a room painted white. She was surprised that she'd been unconscious for the arrival and the moving and wondered if she hadn't suffered some kind of concussion.

  There was a loud whooshing sound, followed by four men who seemed to float into the room. “Get up!” one of them commanded. Cynthia wanted to protest, but the throbbing in her head reminded her to be still, at least for now. The women rallied themselves to a stand, after which they were led outside. And that’s where the oddity spiraled out of control.

  If Cynthia didn’t believe it before, she had no reason now to think she was still on Earth. When she stepped outside, she saw air scooters, robots accompanying people around, and tall buildings shaped like those from the cartoon she'd watched in childhood, called The Jetsons. She blinked rapidly as she took in the sight, and followed the men onto the paved street. She looked around. It was hard not to notice the glaring absence of women.

  “No wonder they need us,” she muttered.

  “I noticed that, too,” the woman behind her leaned forward and said. “I think they need us to procreate, but I’ll be damned--”

  “Keep moving,” one of the men shouted, and she straightened up instantly, her mouth clamming shut at once.

  Cynthia’s eyes glared at the strange, triangular-shaped buildings, and the others that seemed to be floating, hanging suspended in the air like a crib mobile. But where they were headed was not as sophisticated, as they were all stuffed inside the back of a giant vessel shaped like a blimp, and then carted off to a destination unknown. What was striking, when she turned and looked to the street that was now disappearing, was how similar the men appeared. It reminded her of the virus, Mr. Smith, in The Matrix, when he multiplied to fight Neo.

  The journey didn’t take long, and when the doors opened again, they were led to a large metal cage. There was a huge tarpaulin-like covering that was attached from the four corners of a fence. Underneath was a sea of women, composed of all races, ages, and shapes. They all gasped as they joined the nameless, faceless throng, and like the others before, they began to protest.

  “What is this place?” she asked as she turned around. “How long have you been here?” she asked a woman next to her who seemed too dazed to fight anymore.

  “About two days,” she said, and then turned and looked Cynthia directly in the eyes. “They'll like you,” she said, and then faced front again, without another word.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, but the woman had moved on to the nothing she was engrossed in before.

  They spent the majority of the day there, and when it was close to evening, the gates opened, and several of the women were hauled off.

  “Where are they going?” she asked. “Hey!”

  “Hey!” an African-American woman shouted at her. “Would you stop drawing attention to yourself? Damn girl!” she said, frustrated. She shook her head and wiped the sweat from her chest.

  Cynthia creeped closer to the woman, who eyed her suspiciously. “Do you know what they're doing to the women they take?” It wasn’t that she was overly concerned about them--she was curious to know her own fate.

  The woman looked across at her, sighed, and then responded, “They open the gate every day and take out a few of the women. I don’t know what they do with them, but they never come back.”

  Cynthia was silent for a few minutes, and then she looked to the gate. There were two men standing there, and heavily guarded at that. Her chances of escape were zero to none. “There are no women here,” she finally uttered. “They take them home.”

  “You think?” the woman said sarcastically, and scoffed, “I just hope I get a good one.”

  “How can you hope for that? They took us from our homes to this. Don’t you have a life you want to get back to?” she asked the woman.

  The woman looked at her, and answered her directly, “Not really.” And that was the end of the conversation.

  Cynthia may have had a deep-rooted hatred for Jeffrey, but she had a life she wanted to get back to nevertheless, and she wasn’t comfortable being someone’s child bearing machine, besides. “Well, I do.”

  “Good luck with that,” another woman, this one Latino, who had been eavesdropping, responded.

  “Yeah,” Cynthia replied.

  But as the minutes rolled into hours, and the hou
rs turned to days, her attitude had changed to match the women who had gotten there first. Each day a group of women were taken away, and Cynthia waited anxiously for her walk to the gallows.

  It was the morning of the fifth day, after not having showered since she'd had arrived, and having eaten strange green plants that she could not recognize with something that looked like venison, that the gates rolled open once more. By this time, it didn’t bring as much excitement and eye rolling. She was leaning against the fence, watching that strange world float by.

  “You, there,” she heard a voice say from behind her. She didn’t bother looking to see who the poor girl was this time. Maybe it was better if she remained in the tent than be subjected to a life of sexual slavery. “You, at the fence,” the voice shouted, getting closer as it did.

  This time she did turn around, as she realized she was being summoned. She looked around with wild eyes, and moved off with shaky legs. The women stared at her, some with sympathetic eyes, and others with nonchalance. She moved through the crowd, like a prisoner to her execution, and joined nine other women as they were led through the gates and to a large, grey building, not too far away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Darius had grown weary of the show he had to participate in every so often. As Lord of Argon, he was required to oversee the selection process, and to ensure that the humans were not mistreated. After all, they would serve as the foundation for their future. Argon had started out as a fruitful civilization with modern housing structures, playful characters, and plenty to eat. Then there was the Great War, that left the planet pillaged, plundered, and looted of both jewelry and women. The aftermath was a broken world of shattered men. They managed to repair the infrastructure, but as far as generations went, Darius knew they wouldn’t survive on their own. Sooner or later they'd die off, and Argon would cease to exist. It was out of that desperation that was born the idea to ‘import’ women, and from the best place they could find them--Earth!