Alien's Challenge: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Outlaw Planet Mates) Page 3

  “Do not touch her without permission,” Faris grumbled. “She is not a pet.”

  Perrigaul held up his hands in surrender. “Fair. What are we going to do with the human?”

  “I will take Alice to repair her chip. You will take the blaster to our buyer,” Faris said. The idea of Perrigaul alone with Alice made his scales itch.

  “After that?”

  This male and his ceaseless questions were getting under Faris’ scales.

  “I’ll figure something out,” Faris answered.

  “She is worth a fortune,” Perrigaul said.

  “No. We do not sell sentient beings.”

  Perrigaul’s quills went up. “I am stating a fact. She is worth a fortune, and people with more resources than two thieves will attempt to take her.”

  “I know this.”

  Humans had arrived on Reazus Prime a few years ago as sentient cargo. An accident caused the original ship to detonate. Some cargo pods fell to the planet’s surface. Some drifted in the black of space, waiting to be salvaged. He guessed this was what happened to Alice, given how Rand purchased her from a salvager’s auction.

  “We should take her to a human sympathizer. They can find a place for her,” Perrigaul suggested.

  Giving the female away, even to those who could best help her, felt wrong. He needed her to stay close so he could protect her.

  “I have stated the plan. Chip,” he pointed to himself. Then he pointed to Perrigaul, “Blaster. When we have completed our tasks, we will meet at the nest.”

  Perrigaul grumbled that he did not like the plan, but he agreed.

  Alice crouched on the floor, rolled over an unconscious guard, and unbuttoned his shirt.

  “What is she doing?” Perrigaul asked, horrified.

  “She requires clothing.” Faris felt ashamed that he had not realized. She was cold and wore only a scrap of fabric.

  The thought of her wearing another male’s garment outraged him. She should smell like him, no one else.

  Faris scrubbed a hand over his face. No, that was incorrect. It did not matter whose scent she carried as long as she was properly dressed for the journey ahead.

  Still, if it did not matter, then she might as well smell like him. He would not examine the logic of that too closely, for his peace of mind.

  “Alice, wear this.” He shrugged off his coat and handed it to her.

  She looked surprised but slipped it on. The fabric swallowed her, like a child dressed in an adult’s clothes. She tied the belt around her waist and pulled up the hood.

  Faris adjusted the cording in the hood, fitting it around her face and allowing her to see. She watched him with her strange, round eyes.

  This wasn’t warm enough.

  He removed his scarf and wound it around her neck. She touched it with her bare fingers.

  “Gloves,” he said, patting the coat’s pocket. She mimicked him and withdrew his pair of thermal gloves. “Wear them. The strap adjusts,” he said.

  She fumbled with the strap; the gloves far too large for her tiny human hands. He adjusted the straps until the gloves fit well enough not to fall over, annoyed with himself the entire time. This female was a burden, and yet he had to keep her warm. He couldn’t explain the compulsion.

  There. Now she was protected from the cold.

  Perrigaul laughed. “I dare you to deny that she is adorable.”

  She was. His two hearts couldn’t deny it.

  He looked away quickly. What was wrong with him? He gave his coat away to a stranger. You didn’t survive on Reazus Prime by giving away anything, let alone a coat when a snowstorm raged outside.

  Faris nudged Rand with his boot. Still unconscious. The stunner may have been at a higher setting than necessary, but Rand would wake, eventually. Faris crouched down and stripped the fancy coat from the male. This was Rand’s fault, so Rand could donate his coat.

  If Perrigaul thought the indigo blue coat with white fur trim was humorous, he kept it to himself.

  “Time to go,” he said. They’d been on the train too long.

  He scratched behind his ear.

  A scale came loose.

  Well, rotza.

  Chapter 3

  Faris

  The fever.

  He was too old for this. That a male his age would enter the fever and molt like a juvenile was ludicrous. His last molting had been eight years ago, and even then, he had been too old.

  Now he was positively ancient in terms of Nakkoni biology. His quills were turning white.

  They worked their way back through the train toward their tethered hovercycles. Perrigaul double-checked bindings and locked doors. When the train arrived at its destination, Rand and his guards would be discovered in an embarrassing condition. Normally such pettiness warmed Faris’ hearts, but he had larger concerns.

  What was he going to do with the female? With Alice?

  Al-iss.

  What a charming name. Two syllables with a proper Nakkoni sibilant sound at the end.

  Faris scrubbed his hand over his face. He needed air. The coat stank of Rand, which was good. It blocked the female’s scent.

  If this was the effect she had on him just by being in the same space, how could he take her to the nearest settlement? Perrigaul could take her to have her chip repaired.

  No.

  As much as being near her aggravated his fever, the thought of her riding on Perrigaul’s cycle with him pressed close behind her, blocking her from the wind with his bulk…

  No. Absolutely not. Faris would pull out his quills before he allowed that to happen.

  They finally reached the platform at the back of the train. Cold, crisp air helped to clear his head.

  “Falsespire is the closest settlement,” Faris said. “I will take the female there and you will—”

  “Deliver the goods to the buyer. I know.” Perrigaul sat astride his cycle and added the blaster to the satchel at the cycle’s side. “What will you do with the female?”

  “Alice. Her name is Alice.”

  At the mention of her name, she tugged on his coat sleeve. She babbled a question. He could only guess but as she seemed to understand him, she probably wondered about her fate.

  “Find a safe place for her,” Faris said.

  Perrigaul snorted. “Ain’t no such thing.”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Send her back to Urf?”

  Alice made excited noises at this. “Urth! Urth!”

  The cold made the tip of her nose and her cheeks pink. Something hard inside him uncoiled at the eagerness on her face.

  “Urth,” he agreed, because he was a fool.

  He could help her return to Urth. Tickets off the planet were expensive. Few freighters came to Reazus Prime, and the ships that made regular visits weren’t the kind that offered luxurious accommodations to paying customers. Not to mention the added complication that Urth’s location was a closely guarded secret and the only people who knew died when their ship exploded in orbit.

  “I’ll think of something,” he repeated. He’d use his portion of the blaster sale, if needed, to get Alice home and keep her safe.

  Especially from him.

  Alice

  Okay, tense.

  Alice wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but she heard Earth. Big put her on this motorcycle that hovered above the ground—also, can we talk about that?—and sat in front of her.

  Riding on a hovering motorcycle was not fun. It looked cool in the movies, but all she got was a face full of snow and cold wind. Pulling the hood down and pressing her face against Big’s back helped, but the gloves were huge and did nothing to keep the cold from slipping in. Still likely better than nothing. The entire ride, Big sat stiffly, like touching her was gross.

  To sum up, Alice was cold and gross, which is exactly how she felt on the train with Randevere. At least now there was no Randevere.

  The bike bounced over rough terrain. He reached back to keep h
er in place while she clutched at his middle. His two hands remained on the handlebars, and the bike steadied.

  Wait.

  That was a tail wrapped around her, pressing her to his back.

  Okay, okay. Breathe.

  It was a tail. A helpful tail. Red with bits of faded gray, some scales had black at the edges. Just a tail.

  Eventually, when this rollercoaster of the last few days finally ended, Alice would freak out. She had a lot to process since getting caught in that levitation beam and absolutely no time to process. New facts were put into a holding pattern, just running on a loop of, “Wow, that’s weird! I’ll deal with it later.” She neatly placed Big’s tail in that box.

  She pulled up the scarf to cover her nose. Her breath steamed against the fabric, but it was warm and smelled…nice? Like cedar or pine. Outdoorsy.

  He understood her when she told him her name. That meant something. He repeated it back, dragging out the last half with a soft hiss. Al-iss.

  Did Big offer his name or the name of his companion? No. That also had to mean something, like maybe they knew she wasn’t going to stay around long so don’t develop any attachments.

  He mentioned Earth. She wished she knew what they had said about Earth. Hopefully, it was something like “Let me get this chick on the first ship to Earth and we’ll go out for pizza.” Okay, maybe not pizza.

  Her stomach rumbled. How long had it been since she ate? At the warehouse, they made her drink this gloopy, jelly-like liquid. It made her gag but took away her nausea and dizziness. Randevere gave her little bites of food and water, never enough to satisfy but just enough to keep away the worst of her hunger pains. Every time she ate, the mental fogginess returned, so the food was probably drugged.

  Mentally, she listed her priorities: get water, get food, get clothes, and get home. She’d figure out a way to get Big to help her.

  Still, something nagged at the edge of her memory, like she was forgetting an important fact. Her memory had gaps, like having to struggle to recall her mother’s name. Natalie, for the curious.

  Vibrations from the motorcycle slowly drained her tension. The bike was big, and straddling the machine meant that the seat hit her in the fun zone. Add in the vibrations and she was turning into a big fan of riding bikes. She squirmed, aware that she pressed against Big. He grunted but didn’t complain.

  When they stopped, she needed to do something about the ache growing in her core.

  What was wrong with her? Could this be a side effect of whatever drugs Randevere and the gray aliens gave her?

  Wait, gray? No, green.

  She had fuzzy memories of green faces with big black eyes, then nothing.

  Huh. Another gap in her memory.

  Okay, abducted by little greenish-gray men.

  Drugged or not, she knew that desire was a side effect of high -stress situations and adrenaline. Her body was attempting to cope, albeit in a sucky way. Craving alien wang wasn’t going to solve anything, even if that sounded like a really good idea.

  The hoverbike lurched again. The tail tightened. Her lady parts throbbed.

  A really, really good idea.

  This was hell.

  Faris

  During the ride, Alice kept her head tucked down, presumably for warmth. He didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed the way she clutched at his back and pressed up against him. He enjoyed it too much. The more she rubbed up against him, the more she smelled like his. Covering her in his outerwear was not enough. She needed to be his.

  That was the fever talking.

  They couldn’t reach Falsespire soon enough.

  Faris didn’t need the complications that a female brought, especially a human female. When he wasn’t fighting off challengers to claim her, he’d be chasing his tail trying to appease her. Females needed things, comforts before food and shelter. Soft things, things Faris couldn’t provide.

  Maybe once he knew how to be soft with a female, but that was a long time ago, when he had been Owenfaris, fourth child of the Eternal House. Now he was simply Faris.

  To avoid detection, they traveled down a seldom -used dirt road. Calling the narrow track a road was generous, however. Trees pressed close, suggesting the road was about to be swallowed back up by the forest. Navigating in the snow took all his attention.

  As evening approached, the trees thinned. The track widened into a proper road and then vanished into a gorge.

  Once, a bridge had spanned the gorge that separated Falsespire from the rest of the world, but that bridge collapsed shortly after the prison administrators abandoned the planet. No one seemed motivated to rebuild when ferries worked well enough.

  They idled at the foot of the vanished bridge. Wind stung his eyes. Snow fell in spurts, thick and heavy one moment, then nothing for a few seconds. Lights glowed from a town on the other side, tucked against the mountain. In the brief moments the snow lifted, the observatory and transmission antenna towering above the village became visible.

  Alice pointed at the transmission tower with excitement.

  “Do not be excited. It has not worked in years. If ever,” he said. “They call this Falsespire for a reason.”

  More excited chattering. All he could see of his human was her eyes, peering out from between the hood and the scarf.

  “It was a research outpost when the Overlords ran the planet,” he said, not entirely understanding the compulsion to explain this to her. “I guess they thought they were going to do research but gave that up. There’s more profit to be made in mining.”

  Although he had heard rumors about the kind of research conducted in Falsespire, the kind prohibited on law -abiding planets.

  She responded. Her tone carried enough attitude to convey a snarky reply.

  He couldn’t help himself. The stump of his broken frills flexed. If he were not a battered male, his frills would ripple in mirth. As it was, the coat’s hood hid the remaining appendage. Just as well. No one needed to see a broken male embarrass himself flirting with a pretty female.

  Faris scrubbed his hand over his face. He needed to shove a fistful of snow up his nose to block her scent. Like an insidious raider, the fever wormed its way past his defenses. Alice was not his female and she was not pretty. Probably. She was too soft and had no scales to speak of, and his fingers brushed against that soft skin when he helped dress her on the train and...

  Fine, she was a pretty human, but it did not matter.

  “The ferry will be here soon,” he said.

  He signaled with the cycle’s lights again. This time, he got a reply. Within minutes, they were safely across the gorge and Falsespire sheltered them from the storm.

  Narrow lanes wound through the small village. It was easy enough to traverse on foot, but he wanted to keep the cycle nearby if he needed a quick escape. The snowstorm kept people inside, leaving the lanes empty. Only the hardiest people were out tonight.

  He stopped at a food stall decorated with crude paintings of what it served. He didn’t particularly care what it sold as long as it was hot. Apparently, Alice felt the same. She pointed to the painted dishes and made a gesture for eating, then drinking.

  “Did Rand feed you?”

  She made a face, then stuck out a pink tongue.

  Faris recoiled. Short and wide, her tongue was so strange. Smooth. Deviant.

  “I will feed you whatever you like, but put that away,” he said.

  She responded, knowing he couldn’t understand her, and he liked how she insisted on being part of the conversation.

  “All is safe for humans. If it is to your liking, I cannot say,” he said.

  The stall sold savory pies with various fillings, some of which might have been the meat it claimed to be, and a single variety of a sweet fruit pie. He ordered two of each. What Alice did not like, he consumed. The fever burning in him required fuel.

  A small overhang from a nearby building sheltered them while they ate. Faris watched Alice sniff the pie, then take a bite. She scrunched
up her nose and spat it out.

  “No? Try this one.” He handed her another.

  She gave him a wary look but took a small nibble at the corner. It was so strange watching someone without fangs eat. She swallowed then flashed him her flat, blunt teeth. It made him inexplicably pleased knowing he caused that smile.

  Once they consumed the last of the pies, he took her to the kind of shop that didn’t hang a sign over the door. The best places—or, in this context, the worst places—were found by word of mouth or if you knew what to look for.

  The front operated as an all-hours gaming club. Allegedly, they served food, but no one ate the food if they valued their health. Nothing out of the ordinary there. The back had a rotating stock of goods, usually the kind that fell off the back of a cargo ship.

  “Before we enter, take this,” he said, removing a blade from his boot.

  Alice looked at the blade with uncertainty.

  He explained, “It is more important to be seen as capable of defending yourself than being able to use it properly. If you must use it, aim for the gut. Like this.” He demonstrated. “Never overhand. It is too easy to be blocked or disarmed. Do not aim for the upper torso. Too many bones. Do you understand?”

  He held out the blade to her, handle first.

  She took the blade. The light spilling through the windows hit her eye, and for a moment he wondered if she planned to stab him. He did not know her and had given her a weapon.

  How exciting. Humans were so capricious.

  Instead of stabbing him, she nodded and mimicked the move he showed her.

  “Keep it close,” he said. She tucked it into the belt of the coat and followed him inside.

  Cold air rushed in as they entered, and the room fell silent. Faris grabbed the end of the scarf and tugged.

  Alice took a stumbling step, shouting her inscrutable angry words, and swatted at his hand.

  He leaned down to speak, keeping his voice low. “If you are not attached to me, someone will take you.”

  Her eyes were furious, and his tail twitched at the possibility that she would stab him now. She grabbed his hand. She jerked it up, as if to show him, barked something rude—he had no doubt her words were rude—and rolled her eyes.