Fatal Alien Affection Page 2

  What happened to her? He’d rarely seen such composure on anyone. Moy ran a finger down the girl’s cheek, licking his lips.

  “What are you going to do now, little princess?” Moy bent down to the girl’s face as she stood there exposed in front of everyone. “Want to take another hit at me?” He turned his cheek toward her, tapping the side of his face. “Come on. Try me.”

  Jonathan’s mind was hopping. What did she do to him? He suddenly noticed how the alien was favoring his right arm and right wing. She wounded him. A small smirk spread across his face at the thought. I like this girl.

  “Hand me a knife and let’s go,” the girl said, her face still stony. “Oh wait. You’re afraid of a little girl.”

  Moy’s face twisted into a sneer. “I wonder if I can make you squeal like that little dog did when I burned him alive.”

  The girl launched herself at the creature, jamming her fingers toward the big alien’s eyes. Moy let out a surprised grunt, throwing her off him before she could reach his face. She landed on the ground with a dull thud. She wasn’t a small girl, but neither was she huge, and if Jonathan was guessing he’d say she was roughly five foot six. She looked fairly strong, but then again most women who lived in the wild built up muscle to survive the hard labor.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she rose to her feet. A stone sat in his stomach. If she didn’t stop her behavior something really bad was going to happen. Moy’s hand crackled with energy. The girl stared openly at him.

  “Moy!” another Guardian barked. All the other humans were at the sanitizing chamber by now. Moy’s mouth turned into a frown as he shoved the girl forward. She nearly stumbled off her feet but caught her balance before she hit the floor. The muffled groans of the other villagers rose as they went under the sanitizing chamber, ridding them of pestilence on their hair or body. Moy shot a small burst of power at the woman. Jonathan heard a soft cry at the fire that hit her bare body. A patch of skin on her back bubbled at the burn. Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he’ll hurt you more, he mentally told the girl.

  He’d seen these creatures get mad before, and if they did, no amount of begging would put a stop to the torment they could inflict. A few minutes later, the woman was put into the chamber. After she came out, one of the Guardians threw her a tunic. Jonathan had learned that the Citizens called them a pala. All of them wore it. It was a simple gray material that hung like a dress around their body.

  Once the woman was clothed, they assigned her and the rest of her village a cot and walked out of the room laughing at their distress. Anger boiled in Jonathan’s chest, and he tried his best to ignore the feelings that were pumping through him. Men couldn’t associate with the women, they’d be punished for crossing to the other side of the room. The man sitting on the bunk next to him turned over, ignoring the sounds of the women’s sobs. Once the Guardians left, the heart-breaking blank expression of the blonde girl dug deeper and deeper into his chest.

  I can’t take this. He rose from his cot, casting a nervous glance at the door where the Guardians had gone. At any moment they could be back, but he couldn’t just sit there. Men whispered behind him as he quietly made his way across the floor. He stood before the blonde girl’s bed not knowing what to do or say for that matter. Her head was buried in her arms, and her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. God, what do I do? he thought the silent prayer. After a moment, Jonathan simply touched the woman’s back. She jumped, startled by his gentle touch. Her face flew upward, and he saw her hand go to her side, as if she was used to drawing a weapon. She let out a soft sound, and his heart tore in half. She had to be around eighteen, her big blue eyes betraying the pain she was feeling.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said, her voice raw and scratchy sounding.

  “I’m really sorry about…what Moy did. Can I do anything?” He hoped she could hear the compassion in his voice.

  He could see she was trying desperately to control herself. Her lower lip started to tremble.

  “Please go away.” Her face turned a shade of pink.

  “What he did was wrong. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “That doesn’t matter now does it? Everything about those things are wrong.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry.” Jonathan wanted to reach out and touch her again but held himself back.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

  “Everything is going to be alright.”

  Her eyes flew open. “How can you say that?” Her voice sounded raspy. Her blue eyes sparking with heat. “They stole everything from us. Everything. Why do we even have children? Why? Why do we even marry? What’s the point?” Her voice sounded harsh. “Mother wanted me to marry two years ago.” Her voice dropped into a whisper.

  Jonathan listened to her. He’d felt the same way these last couple weeks. He’d beaten himself up over not marrying. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes closing. He remembered something his mother had done when he or his younger brothers were upset.

  “Listen, this is going to sound strange, but can I hug you? I know you don’t know me, but it might help calm your nerves down.”

  She sized him up for a minute, looking skeptical at his suggestion, but then without another thought she launched herself into his arms. He cast a nervous glance toward the door as she wrapped her arms around him, trembling like crazy. “What…is happening to me? Why can’t I stop shaking?”

  “Shh…” He tried his best to soothe her, his own emotions swirling around the nightmare he’d just had about his family’s death. “We’ll figure something out. It’s not over until we’re gone.”

  The girl looked up at him, trying to get ahold of herself. “What do you mean?” Suddenly the door opened again and two Guardians strolled in. They spotted Jonathan and the girl right away. He carefully released her and took a step back. Within seconds a hand shoved him against the wall, webbed fingers pressed up against his neck. Black wings rose around him, a dark cloud suffocating him, a blue face crinkled with hatred. Pointed ears protruded from the Guardian’s hair. The creature’s webbed fingers twisted into his thick red mane of hair, holding him captive.

  “What do you think you’re doing, human?” Dark brown eyes bored into him. He knew it was best not to answer the nearly seven foot creature that was hulking over his five foot eleven frame. Of course the alien had to be Moy. The Citizen threw him down onto the cement floor, pressing his foot against his back, the barrel of his weapon up against Jonathan’s head.

  “You know the rules. Stay on your side!”

  Jonathan grimaced, expecting the icy blast from the tranque gun that would leave him immobilized for hours. The new girl was laying on her bed, shivering, but had stopped making any sounds at the attack against him.

  “Please…it was my fault.” she whispered to Moy. Jonathan knew pleas wouldn’t work, so he stayed utterly silent under the mercy of the alien. He could hear the caulk of the weapon.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” Moy said.

  “That’s enough,” a firm voice said. Jonathan could feel the presence of the powerful Citizen the moment he walked into the room. “Put your weapon down, Moy.” The creature walked over to where Moy was standing. “We need to preserve the merchandise.” A powerfully built Citizen with hair as black as raven’s feathers stood beside Jonathan’s head. “Let the human go back to his cot. How many times have I told you icing is only under extreme cases? It can damage their skin, and my customers like a pretty slave.”

  The Guardian backed away, but Jonathan was still afraid to move.

  “Get up.” The dark-haired Citizen grabbed him by the back of his pala and yanked him upward. Jonathan half stumbled to his feet, feeling the lack of nutrition in his body. He’d arrived at the warehouse only two weeks prior, and they went through a process of cleansing their merchandise before selling it. That included what they thought was a proper weight. His once well-mus
cled body had lost mass. No Citizen wanted an extremely strong human for fear of resistance, even though a Citizen was at least three times as strong as a normal human.

  He was half shoved across the room until he landed on his bunk, a tranque gun shoved in his chest.

  “If you cross the line again, next time the boss won’t be around to stop me.” Moy’s lips curled back slightly. The boss, who Jonathan had heard mentioned as Jeol, went bunk to bunk inspecting each one of his merchandise. When he approached Jonathan’s bed he paused.

  “If he breaks the rules again, give a discount to Holten, and let him sign him up for the Quarry.”

  Moy’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk.

  “If he can’t obey, there is no point in selling him to a household.” Jeol’s eyes danced with dark authority. Whatever the Quarry was didn’t sound good to Jonathan.

  Chapter 4

  “Zahara, watch me! Watch me!”

  Zahara stirred out of her sleep with Ray’s voice drifting in and out of her mind. A sharp pang hit her as the memory of his death replayed in her mind. She’d never felt more alone in her life. She rolled on her side, her stomach a knotted mess inside. Her thoughts drifted to the man who’d held her yesterday. Why did I allow that? That’s not me. I’m not some weak female who needs a man to coddle me. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but for some reason she had a natural trust of the red-haired man. Maybe it was because he knew he’d be punished for his actions but still reached out to her when she needed it most.

  “Don’t cry in front of them.”

  Zahara turned to see a girl on the cot beside her with a face as blank as a sheet of ice. “It makes them hurt you more.” The girl was pretty looking with brown hair and brown eyes, but Zahara could see the deep pain hovering beneath the girl’s expression. All of them had lost someone or something precious. She sat up on her bed, observing the different women who stirred from their sleep. There were no windows in the room, so it was impossible to see what time it was or if it was morning or evening.

  “I’m Olive,” the girl said to her. “You were crying in your sleep.”

  Zahara remembered tiny bits of her dreams—they were filled with Ray.

  “I’m Zahara.” They both stared at one another for a few seconds. “Where did you come from?”

  “We called it River Village.” Olive adjusted her pala, as if it was a fancy gown. Her big brown eyes were transfixed on nothing in particular.

  “Umm…” Zahara watched the girl closely, noticing the deadness in her gaze. “I lived near there.”

  “That guy—” Olive pointed across the room at the red-head who’d held Zahara the day before. “He’s from my village. He acted like he was too good for any of the girls there.”

  Zahara could see the bitterness on her face and figured Olive had been turned down by the man.

  “Are you married?” The girl faced her, again adjusting her pala as if she couldn’t sit still too long.

  “No, I never was.” She tilted her head down, now wishing she hadn’t been so stubborn and had taken her mother’s advice and married at sixteen. At least she would have had a few years of bliss.

  “How old are you?” Olive turned her head, observing Zahara’s features.

  “I’m eighteen.” For some reason she felt ashamed saying it, but again she’d had her whole future ahead of her in the wild.

  “I’m surprised you’ve never been married. You’re very pretty. Unlike my sister who had the face of a horse.” Olive had a look of disgust on her face. “I had children you know.” She turned her head away from Zahara. “Two boys. Keltin and Mosh. They were terrible children…” She shook her head with a laugh, and a soft sob came out her throat. “Every day they got into so much mischief.” Olive’s eyes misted over, and Zahara saw her shoulders shake as if she was crying. “It’s stupid really.” She turned her face toward the opposite side of the room. “To have children. It’s stupid. You just get your heart ripped out watching them die.”

  Pain washed over Zahara. Despite this woman’s somewhat stuck up demeanor she was still in grief.

  “I’m sorry,” Zahara said, and put a hand on the woman’s back to comfort her.

  “It’s fine. I should have known not to marry like you did. It would have been far less painful not to lose anyone.” Olive lifted her face and watched the men on the other side of the room. “He was smart too.”

  Zahara saw that Olive was looking at the red-haired man who was just starting to wake up.

  “He was smart to not marry either.” Olive walked away at that point, and Zahara felt pity for the woman. Her chest ached inside as she thought about what Olive had said to her. The girl was wrong. Zahara had lost someone. Three some ones. Even if she’d never married, she’d poured her entire life into her little brother. She’d vowed from the moment he was born to watch over him. Every time Ray had been upset, hurt, or wanted a hug, he’d run to her instead of her very busy mother, who’d lacked affection in general for her or Ray. She could still feel his little arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He’d been growing this year and was nearly up to her chin, even at age nine. Their father had been six foot two, and she was roughly five foot six like her mother. She remembered Ray running up to her and tucking his head underneath her chin and saying, “Am I as tall as you yet, Zahara?”

  She gave a sad smile at the memory, feeling like someone had stepped on her chest. You would have been, Ray. The other women moved around the room, shuffling, eyes looking as vacant as Zahara felt. She looked up again to see the redhead staring at her, but she turned her face away. She wouldn’t allow him to get hurt again, not on her account.

  Chapter 5

  Thwack!

  A smack across the face jerked Jonathan out of sleep. Moy was standing there with another Citizen who looked like a business man.

  “This the guy?” the business Citizen said, reaching out and grabbing Jonathan’s chin and tilting his head side to side. “He looks healthy enough. And Jeol wants what for this bag of flesh?”

  “He’s willing to cut some costs for you, Holten. Of course he said if the human broke the rules again, but I thought you’d like to at least take a look.”

  The business creature looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “Question is can he fight?”

  “I know a way to get a rise out of him.” Moy held up a finger and walked to the other side of the room. He dragged the blonde girl off her bed and shoved her toward the middle of the warehouse. She was barely awake, stumbling, trying to understand what was going on around her. The business Citizen simply watched with slight boredom.

  “Any day, Moy,” he said.

  “Trust me. Watch.” Moy reached for the girl’s pala to degrade her, when Jonathan came undone. He suddenly found in his hand one of the metal spoons that went with his meal. He turned it around so the end was facing out and shoved it up into the creature’s stomach. Moy, not expecting Jonathan to move as fast as he did, grunted, taking a step back, releasing the girl. She brought her foot up hard against the Guardian’s groin. Moy let out a howl of pain, almost toppling from where he stood. Apparently they are more like us than I knew. Jonathan got in another jab to the creature’s ribcage.

  “Bwuhahaha!” Holten was bent over laughing, slapping his thigh. “Oh wow, that was beautiful.”

  Jonathan pressed his foot against Moy’s throat, his eyes flashing with hatred. “Don’t you dare touch her again.” His heart was hammering in his ears. He wanted to laugh at how he and the girl had just knocked the cocky creature off his feet and made him scream.

  “Get off me!” Moy’s fingers curled around Jonathan’s foot and with a flap of his wings slammed Jonathan onto his back. He let out an oomph, his head smacking the floor. The blonde girl was on Moy in a moment, her fingernails coming after his eyes. He twisted away from her and flapped his wings again, knocking her back with the impact.

  “Why are you just standing there and watching, Holten?” Moy said, annoyed, and
obviously still in pain at the girl’s kick.

  “This is too hilarious. My customers get bored really fast, and you’ve more than convinced me to take one or both of these two.” Holten crossed his arms over his chest, still looking amused. Moy was back on his feet, scowling at Jonathan and the blonde both.

  “Fatten the man up a bit more, and I’ll be back in two weeks—discount or not I’ll take him. I’m still thinking about the girl.” Holten laughed, turned, and started toward the door, the Guardian following behind him. Jonathan watched them leave, wondering what was about to happen to him. Something was digging inside his chest. His mother had raised him to believe in an all-powerful God—and something buried inside said, this isn’t the end.

  A few minutes passed by when Moy came back into the warehouse. He grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her to the other side of the room. He threw her onto her cot.

  “You’ll pay for that one day.” He leaned in close to the blonde, his big wings spreading like a dark cloud around her. Jonathan saw fear spread across her face. Not if I can help it, you dick. Moy left the warehouse after that, obviously ashamed that he’d let two humans get the best of him. Jonathan felt a small sense of satisfaction.

  After Moy departed, one of the Guardians slapped two bowls full of some kind of mush on Jonathan’s small table beside his cot, giving him a wink. “Eat up, we’ve got to fatten you up a bit for your new father.”

  The food looked utterly disgusting, but Jonathan was starving so he quickly devoured it. He could hear the slurping of all the other humans gathered around him. It was the one time of day where he felt remotely normal. The Guardians all cleared out after a few minutes, leaving the humans to eat without disturbance. Jonathan found his eyes straying to the blonde girl who hadn’t touched her bowl of food. He remembered that feeling well. In fact, some of the slaves had died of malnutrition because they had refused to eat. Whatever the Citizens fed them was packed full of vitamins so that they would come to a healthy weight for their new masters.