Alien Mine (23 page)

Instead of words, she only heard harsh sounds from their throats. Before she could tell Zacar her implant was definitely acting up, he pressed his forehead against hers briefly. "Stay here."

Before she could answer, he stalked off with Zurian. The silver door covering the cave entrance opened and she stepped closer instinctively. Before the door slid closed, she saw that Zurian had installed a dome, that had the same texture as the snow, just outside the entrance, keeping the snow away from the entrance.

Trying to look casual, she walked to the door and pressed her palm on the cave wall. The door slid open and she cautiously moved forward. She could hear Zacar talking but the big rock jutting out in front of the cave door hid him from her sight. Carefully, she inched around and chanced a quick peek.

A silver ball hovered in the air, projecting a hologram of another alien. Zacar gave a salute with his palm out. In that one quick glance, she saw the other alien was dressed in black, instead of silver. Even as a hologram he appeared large and brutish. His cruel features scared the spit out of her. Yet, weirdly enough he looked familiar.

Her stomach erupted into churning life, acid burning her insides. She moved back and clapped both hands over her tightly pressed lips, but they wouldn't stop trembling no matter how hard she pressed her hands against them.

Zacar had told her they couldn't communicate with their home world. He'd lied to her. The man she'd made love with last night, the man who said he wanted children with her had lied to her.

She could hear Zacar and the hologram talking, those same harsh grating sounds coming from their throats. And she realized something. The translation patch only seemed to function when they wanted it to function. She chanced another look just as Zacar finished the conversation.

The moment the other alien blinked out, Zacar turned to face her, each movement slow, deliberate, his tense body ready to attack. "Are you spying on me?"

His arctic voice scraped over her nerves.

"You lied to me. When you said you couldn't contact other aliens, you were lying." Her legs trembled in fear but she forced herself to lift her chin and to keep her voice firm.

"So?" He crossed his arms over his massive chest and she really wanted to hit him with her club again.

"You lied to me. Don't you at least feel guilty about that?" What happened to his precious honor? "You're always going on about warrior honor. Where's the honor in lying to me?"

"I don't lie. A warrior does not talk to his breeder about war plans."

"What does that have to do with lying to--wait, war plans? Do you have other spaceships on their way here?"

"No."

"How do I know you're not lying again?" Was she naively thinking in terms of a relationship while he had other priorities?

"You do not." No compromise. Nothing of the gentle lover of last night was left in this merciless alien before her.

"How can you act like this? Is this why you call me a breeder, because I have no rights in your eyes?"

"There are no spaceships on their way from my planet. The Earth is too far for them to travel and the wormhole we came through will only form in another thousand years."

"Is that the truth?"

He stepped forward and loomed over her in an intimidating move she didn't like at all. "Are you calling me a woumber?"

"No." But she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth.

Before she realized his intention he bent and swung her up in his arms.

He carried her back inside and strode toward the tent. She wanted to bite him or kiss him senseless, she didn't know which, and that was a crushing blow to her pride.

He shouldn't get the idea he could carry her off to bed to stop an argument.

She was about to put up a serious fight when Zacar stopped and moved his head slightly. He put her down slowly.

Running feet, stamping over the cave floor drew her out of the sensual haze. Zurian hurried toward them, carrying Azagor, the young alien.

She cried out and rushed forward when she saw he was bleeding. A lot.

"What can I do?"

She hovered uncertainly when the doctor appeared behind her.

He barked something in that strange language she wasn't allowed to understand. Standing back, she took in the scene, her brow lifting in astonished horror.

Chapter 11

What looked like a harpoon pierced Azagor's bloody shoulder. He roared in agony but the moment he saw her, he bit back the sounds of pain. His face smoothed out until no sign of the agony he endured remained.

"How on earth did he get hit with a harpoon," she asked, dazed.

She thought no one heard her over the frantic activity around Azagor. But Zacar looked at her for a moment, as if checking on her.

"Stay back, Natlia."

Ignoring his command, she hurried after them and mentally went through her first aid supplies. Would human medicine work on them? She sagged against the wall. Fear had affected her wits. They had their own doctor, with technology and skills more advanced than her rudimentary first aid kit.

Zurian laid him down on a slab of metal they'd installed that morning in another area they'd sectioned off with silver walls. Viglar immediately went to work on him. Zurian talked to Zacar in urgent growling sounds.

"What happened," she asked again, assuming Zurian had just been filling Zacar in on the details.

"Azagor tried to earn mekrin bar gera," Zacar answered.

"My stupid translator didn't understand that. What does it mean?" she snarled at him. She couldn't believe she was thinking this, but she needed another implant. One that properly understood that growly language.

"It means Azagor tried to earn his...his" He stopped for a moment before continuing. "He tried to earn full warrior-hood."

"You mean like a rite of passage?"

"Yes," Zacar answered, without looking at her.

He marched up and down the length of the cave, fists clenched. Every now and then, he would stop and observe the doctor who seemed to be wasting a lot of time running his scanner over every inch of Azagor.

"Did he try to attack a raider camp on his own?" She couldn't fathom anyone wanting to walk alone into a raider camp. Even if she had their weapons and thick skin, she wouldn't want to do it.

"He was on his way to a camp near Denver but was injured by woumbers when he went over the pass," he said and made another sharp turn to pace in the opposite direction.

"The raiders were there? How many of them?"

He didn't look at her. His eyes were on his wounded warrior but he answered her questions with surprising patience. "Many."

The doctor flicked a look at her then at Zacar. "It must come out."

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. Zacar walked forward and the determination in his step made her stomach turn. Zurian went to stand at Azagor's feet.

Smoothing her hands over her pants, she walked forward. Surely, she could help in some way. The closer she came to the young warrior, the more agitated he became. Even Zurian started to frantically motion her away. Did they consider it bad luck to have a woman close to a wounded warrior or something?

"Please wait in the main cave, Natlia," Zacar said.

Did he expect her to go about her day, as if nothing had happened? And wasn't Azagor lying there mortally wounded?

His next words confirmed it.

"It is time for your dinner. If you start the preparations for food, I will come shortly," Zacar said, as if his words made perfect sense in their situation.

If Azagor hadn't been seriously wounded, she would've slapped Zacar silly for talking to her as if she was barely older than a toddler.

"Are you out of your mind?" she exclaimed. Was that what these crazy aliens thought of her? "You guys are crazy if you think I'm going to calmly sit and eat, or watch the TC, while he lies here in pain."

Pretending bravado she didn't feel, she stomped over to them. Carefully, she put her arm under the soldier's head and held him to her. Azagor stared at her with black, pain-filled eyes, unblinking. She could feel his body vibrate with pain but he didn't make a sound. He glanced at Zacar once then stoically focused on the wall. She had the strong sense that he was embarrassed to be held.

The doctor and Zacar exchanged a strange look. When Viglar gripped the harpoon, she understood. Zacar and Zurian held him down. Before Azagor knew what he planned, the doctor pulled out the weapon from his shoulder and reddish-green blood spilled out in rivers. Pain bowed Azagor's body in a rigid arc and she almost lost her grip on him. He gave a cry that reverberated around the cave with its agony. She winced in sympathy.

Quickly tossing the harpoon aside, the doctor grabbed his instruments and started to work with frantic haste. After that one agonized cry, Azagor made no sound. The only noise in the enclosure was her heavy breathing and an occasional grunt from the doctor.

Natalie glanced over at Zacar to find him examining the bloody harpoon in his hands. She'd seen an illustration of something similar once. He turned it over and touched the sharp point with a curious forefinger. Zacar looked from her to Azagor. His gaze lingered on her hands, stroking the young alien. He could glare all he wanted. If he didn't like her helping the young warrior, that was just tough.

Ignoring him, she softly stroked the sweating bald head she held in her arms. The pain must be excruciating. Not even during workouts had she seen them sweat the way Azagor was sweating now. She held his head against her chest, with her hand on his shoulder, and already he was becoming heavy. She frowned at Zacar and snapped at him when her muscles started to quiver. "Don't just stand there. Come and help me. He weighs a ton."

To her surprise, he came over and put his hands beneath hers, taking the weight of the young soldier from her.

With Zacar's help, she held him and talked to him while she stroked his brow. When he clenched his jaw in pain, then seemed ashamed at showing weakness, she couldn't help the tears running down her cheeks.

"Shhh. You'll be all right, you'll see. Before you know it, you'll be in your bed and feeling much better." Tenderly, she stroked her hand over his head and smiled at him through her tears. She always thought they were invincible. Bulletproof. This vulnerability scared her. Instead of being indestructible, they had some weaknesses.

She searched her mind for something to distract him from the pain. "Tell me, which movie is your favorite?"

Azagor frequently found ways to work in the vicinity of the TC, his fascination with old sci-fi movies growing since the first one they watched with her. She always thought he would've approached her with a million questions, if Zacar would allow it.

"Star Wars." His voice was hoarse, almost vibrating with pain but she thought it helped get his mind off it.

She had to listen closely to understand the words he painfully gritted out. "Star Wars. The original one?"

He nodded stoically. He seemed so brave. She crooned to him and stroked his bald head again. A movement from Zacar had her looking up straight into his red eyes. They flared with emotion and she was vaguely aware of Azagor and even the doctor staring at her. Didn't they approve of her showing compassion to their fellow warrior?
Well, tough.

When Viglar started up a small flame and closed the wound, she recoiled and would've jerked Azagor if Zacar hadn't held her steady. Azagor didn't seem to feel pain from it, but she was close to fainting. Just looking at what the doctor was doing, she felt enough pain for the both of them. Bile burned her throat with bitter acid so she took deep breaths, forcing it down. She had to be strong for Azagor.

When the others laid him down in his bed, she pulled the covers over him, impulsively bent over, and kissed his head.

The air around her thickened until all she breathed was a loaded silence and rage. She could feel their gazes burning into her head. This wasn't a human boy who needed comforting. For all she knew, she'd broken some huge taboo.

With a harsh growl, Zacar picked her up and carried her to the tent.

"Put me down. I want to be there in case he needs help during the night." Besides, she didn't want to be alone with him while he was angry with her.

"The doctor will help him." Putting her down, he lifted her chin with his hand. "You are my breeder." He bent down to speak right in her face. "Not his."

She cringed back, but couldn't allow him to intimidate her like this. Never show fear to a predator. "I might be your woman but I'm also concerned about Azagor. And what's so wrong with that?"

"You are my breeder."

"Does that mean I can't show compassion to a wounded warrior?

Maybe now wasn't a good time to get fired up over him calling her his breeder, but she'd get him to stop using that word if it was the last thing she did. "And are you physically incapable of calling me anything else? Was this annoying habit somehow bred into you, along with warrior genes or something?" she asked in a deliberately syrupy sarcastic voice.

He drew himself upright. "I behave with honor. Have I not fed you? Protected you?"

"That's not the point."

"What is the point?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

What was her point? They'd started this argument because of his attitude over her helping Azagor. "Why are you so upset over me helping Azagor."

"It is not seemly for my breeder to kiss another warrior."

"Oh." He was jealous?

She was freaked out over Azagor's wound? Mad about his attitude toward her trying to help and him treating her like an outsider? And she needed him to hold her and soothe her. But his obvious jealousy warmed her a bit. "That was a different kind of kiss. Not the kind of kiss I want to give you."

"Show me this different kiss." The interest in his voice convinced her he already had a very good idea what a kiss was.

Slowly, she stepped closer. Going up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. Without hesitation, he drew her into his arms and kissed her with those potent lips of his. And she was lost. She opened her lips for him when he demanded entrance and his slightly rough tongue surged inside, duelling with her softer one. He bent down, picked her up again, and moved to the bed.

"We should do this the way my people do it? It's only fair to me, don't you think?"

Natalie expected him to start roaring again after the resistance he'd shown to any deviation of his normal way of doing things. His lovemaking had been hot, exciting, but strangely formal. His demeanour, almost conservative.

Now he looked at her with something she could've sworn was interest. If she had to describe his reaction, she'd have said it was excited, yet he was determined not to show it.

"Um, why don't you lie down? Earth women are always on top." Luckily, of all the aliens, he liked watching old movies the least. She'd swear that was how her parents raised her if he ever learned more about Earth customs.

He shucked his clothes in record time then walked to the bed and lay down with studied, careful movements.