Alien Mine (6 page)

She resisted the urge to cover her throat with her hand.

Tipping her head, she looked from his waist to his ankles, carefully skimming the still bulging area between his legs.

I really hope he can't read my thoughts.

If he had a sword hidden on him somewhere, she really didn't know where. His clothes were molded to his muscled body like a second skin.

He moved his arms and, startled, she scrambled back from him, emitting a wild squawk and almost losing her grip on the shotgun. Yet, he didn't even blink while his eyes tracked her every move. Had he done it on purpose?

If only I could stay on this side of the cave and just hope he doesn't have weapons.

Warily keeping an eye on his hands and feet, she inched forward again. Tied up as he was, he couldn't reach for any hidden weapons, she hoped, but tracking devices could bring the kind of trouble she didn't need. Her hands trembled. Why couldn't he look away, glance stoically off into the distance or something? She moved her hands up his chest and tugged at what looked like pockets.

It was maddening. They looked like pockets, and she was sure there was something in them, but she simply couldn't find a way to open them. Maybe the strange fabric of his shirt didn't just look like metal. Maybe it really was metal.

Natalie stroked his chest, felt a vein pulsing, and absently followed its course across his skin. The alien's muscles hardened further and she could feel her cheeks burning again.

"Can you understand me?" she asked.

His expression remained intense, his eyes unflinching. Maybe his species communicated through telepathy or something.
Great, so he's been reading every thought in my head.

She groaned inwardly and got to her feet with stiff awkward movements. Grace was beyond her with her muscles aching so much. At a loss about what to do next, she grabbed the shotgun and stood facing him. She was so tired she could fall asleep just standing there, but she forced herself to make one more effort to communicate with him.

"Do you understand English?"

He just stared, so she tried Spanish, then bits and pieces of French she'd learned as a child. Nothing. Feeling like Jane from an ancient
Tarzan
movie she'd once seen, she pointed to herself and said, "Natalie."

Still, he stared at her.

"I don't know if you meant to save me," she said, shifting awkwardly under his glare, "but I want to thank you for rescuing me from those animals. I know you must be mad at me for hitting you in the head, but you scared me." Could he hear the sincerity in her voice?

Nothing but that unblinking gaze.

She jerked the towel off her head, grabbed her wet hair into a thick bunch in her hand, and pulled. His gaze fixed on her hair. She'd caught him staring at her hair every now and then, though she couldn't figure out why.

How could she make him understand she'd reacted on instinct when she hit him? Surely if he realized she'd only done it in self-defense, all would be forgiven. She hoped.

"You have to understand, I acted without thinking."

When he still didn't answer her, she scuffed her boot against the stone floor. Would it kill him to at least try to communicate? To tell her his name?

Slowly, almost lazily, he turned his head. She jumped back when he moved his arms again, as if trying to get his hands off the hook. His biceps flexed as he pulled against the hook and dangerous, over-developed muscles rippled in his forearms.

She moved another step back and leveled the shotgun at his chest. Never mind not showing fear. If he used the hook as leverage, even with his feet tied together, he could easily take her down if he swung his legs at her.

She glanced with longing at the cave entrance.
Why did it have to start snowing today
? She should be out there, on her way to town. She could've stayed with Julia until the army cleared out the aliens.

Snow blew in steadily, forming a mini snowdrift where she'd failed to secure the canvas flap at the bottom left corner. Hoisting the shotgun over her shoulder, she rushed to the entrance and tied it down before the little heat they had could escape.

With the flap secured, she let out a resigned sigh and turned to face him again, rubbing her hand over her aching chest.

"My name is Natalie. N-a-t-a-l-i-e. Please tell me yours."

Still no answer from the stubborn alien.

"Why have you come to Earth? Are you a soldier?" she asked.

His clothes had a military look to them. And she'd seen some kind of emblem on his left shoulder when she'd searched him--five swords pointing inward to form a kind of star.

With a hysterical little laugh, she tightened her grip on the shotgun. Like he would actually admit to her that he'd come to Earth to conquer or kidnap humans.

The alien stiffened and moved his head a fraction to the left, his eyes never leaving hers. But try as she might, she couldn't hold that gaze for more than a few moments before she had to look away. It felt too much like he was seeing into her soul.

"Please tell me your name." Her voice sounded pathetic and pleading. She was tired, sore, and hungry, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years. But there was no way she could fall asleep with those eyes watching her constantly.

"Zcaaaachrrrr."

What?
She stared at him for a moment, not sure she'd actually heard him.

"Zcaaaachrrrr," he repeated in the same harsh guttural tone. His voice reminded her of the sound of ice as it scraped over jagged rocks on its way down the mountain. A sound she'd loved listening to since childhood as it always gave her a curious thrill. He repeated it once more, forcing delicious shivers down her spine.

"Zacar?" she asked.

"Yes." His heavy accent of a growl mixed with ice scraping over rocks, made him difficult to understand.

She almost vibrated in excitement.
He's talking to me
!

She edged closer. "Where are you from?" she said slowly, enunciating each word.

He pointed up to the cave roof with his bound hands. Did he mean he came from the sky? Was he mocking her? She glared at him, and when he simply stared at her, she said through clenched teeth, "What. Planet. Are. You. From?"

"I. From. Zlllrrrrgggrrr," he grated.

Sarcastic jerk.

Wasn't he taught interspecies-first-contact protocol or something on his planet? He was supposed to say nice things, like
I come in peace
. Or
take me to your leader
. Then he was supposed to leave her alone while he had important meetings with the government.

"Zgggr?" she asked.

"Zyrigrrn," he pronounced very slowly.

"Zyrgin?"All she heard were
R's
and
Z's,
among other unintelligible sounds.

"Yes," he growled at her.

"Is it far from here?" The moment the words left her mouth, she could've kicked herself. Of course, it was far from here. He came in the space ship, if what James Stocks said was true. Embarrassed, she rushed to ask another question. "So why have you come to Earth?"

This time he didn't answer and, no matter how many times she repeated the question, he was apparently done talking. He reminded her of a prisoner of war she'd seen on the TC, determined to give only his name and rank and nothing else.

Half-an-hour later, he still stared at her. The thought of being trapped in this cave, enduring that unblinking gaze while he refused to talk to her, infuriated her.

"You see that?" she yelled, stabbing her finger in the direction of the mini snowdrift still by the cave entrance. "That's the first winter snow. It might stop, and we might get some mild weather before the next bout--" Out of breath she paused then continued in a barely audible whisper, "--or it could continue for the next eight months. Either way, I only have enough food for six months, for one person. And that's if I ration myself very carefully."

"I protect." His rough voice suddenly vibrated through the cave.

She jumped. His English was improving at an impressive rate.

"I don't need protection. I have a gun." She hefted the shotgun over her shoulder for emphasis. Not that the stupid gun had done her any good against raiders and an alien so far. "This is going to be a long winter," she muttered. "Please tell me your plans." If he was a warrior as she assumed, she would bet he was used to preparing for any eventuality.

His eyes bore into hers. "Protect Natlia."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm more worried about both of us starving to death before spring comes."

"No eat Natlia's food."

Now he was making her feel like a monster. "You think I want to see you starve?" she snapped at him.

"Zacar feed Natlia."

So she wasn't a monster, but a child? Did he think she would untie him if he made grand promises? Just how stupid did he think she was? No, wait. She didn't want the answer to that one. After all, she was the one who got caught on her own mountain by raiders.

"Untie me," he grated with hypnotic threat, moving his hands against the hook.

"Do you promise to go away and leave me in peace?"
Yeah, that's going to work.
Are you just going to take his word for it and untie him so that he could kill you
?

"No," he said without hesitation.

"Then I cannot untie you." She expected anger or, at the very least, disappointment from him, but she got nothing. Maybe his people didn't move their facial muscles in response to emotion, the way humans did. Either that or he had the emotional capability of a robot.

"Zacar protect Natlia," he insisted.

She still wasn't untying him. "Whatever you say."

She sauntered away from him in what, she hoped, appeared to be a dismissive move. "I need to get the cave secured and get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow you'll be more reasonable."

"Untie me." The gravelly
or else
rang clear in his voice.

She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. "You know I can't. If our situations were reversed, would you untie me?"

Though even tied up, he didn't appear helpless. It was debatable which one of them was really the captive here anyway. The snow had turned out to be a very effective jailor.

He stayed quiet, his gaze following her every move as she stoically tried to ignore him.