Challa (13 page)

Grandma?
Challa lifted her face and opened her eyes to look at him. Laughter danced in his gaze. “I could never hurt you,” she confessed.

“I was teasing.”

“Oh.”

Compton reared his head back slightly. “You’re not used to being teased, are you?”

Challa shook her head. “My friends…they…”

“How many friends do you have, Challa?” he suddenly asked her. “How many people know what you really are?”

She tried to answer, but Compton beat her to it.

“One? Two? A dozen?”

“Lawson.”

He looked surprised. “Just him? Why just him?”

“He…he’s the one who caught me.”

“Caught you? How?”

“I broke into the kitchen trailer for some food. I thought it was safe. Everyone was at the show.”

“You were an alien when he caught you?”

“Yes.”

It felt unbelievably gratifying to tell him everything. It was wonderful to be able to open herself up to this man who listened without criticizing, without interruption. Without condemnation. To confess everything without restraint.

“Why were you alien, Challa, instead of human?” He frowned again, as if he’d just thought of something. “When you’re human, is that a costume?”

“No. It’s me.”

This time Compton released her and took a step back in shock. “How?”

“I…”

It wouldn’t help to try and explain. Challa knew he had to be shown. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too alarming for him to witness all at once.

“Watch me,” she said.

She did it slowly, letting him see something that even Lawson Hall had never witnessed. Compton took another step back in order to check her out from head to toe, but he never removed his hands from where they were resting on her waist. When she finished, she waited for him to make the next move.

“You’re a shape shifter.”

“That’s what Lawson calls me. That and a pod person, whatever that means.”

One corner of Compton’s mouth lifted as he snorted. “It’s a movie reference, Challa.”

“About aliens?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He ran a hand through her thick red locks. “How are you able to be human, Challa?”

“It’s something my people can do,” she answered. “I don’t know why we can change our form. We just can. We see someone we want to look like, and we…match them.” She dropped her gaze as memories from the ship floated to the surface.

* * * *

It wasn’t Kreesi waiting for them. It was a boll dremlin from Ga Tu Feenova IV. It slobbered and gnashed its rows of spinal teeth with hungry anticipation.

When the younglings hurried into the section of the ship where their teacher had ordered them to meet her, they stopped and froze in place in stark fear. Challa screamed and tried to run out of the cabin, but a female figure blocked her way.

It was the young woman known as Tiron. The female nearly everyone avoided because of her temper and her past. Of all the Ruinos on the ship, Tiron had been the unmated female most severely abused by the Arra. Challa had only heard about some of the atrocities the woman had been forced to endure, and her heart wept in sympathy.

On the tiny escape ship, there was no way to avoid anyone. No one spoke about the years they had spent as prisoners of the Arra. Most of all, the mere sight of some people brought back memories of the pain and degradation they’d all suffered. For that reason, Tiron was among those shunned.

Challa never expected Tiron to reach out and snag her shoulder, preventing her from bolting from the room. “Don’t be afraid, Challa. At least, not here on the ship. There isn’t anything to be afraid of anymore, kolli.” Tiron smiled at her, then turned and left the cabin. Challa stared at her in amazement as she heard laughter coming from behind her. She turned around to see Kreesi standing where the boll dremlin had been. The other younglings were giggling with delight at the trick that had been pulled on them, and at Challa’s embarrassment.

“It’s time you learned about your abilities.” The old woman smiled. “It’s time you learned how to use them and how to control them. Now, come back here and get ready for your lessons. All of you.” Gesturing to Challa, Kreesi said, “Why don’t you go first?”

* * * *

Compton pulled her back into his embrace, guiding her head to his shoulder. His hand continued to comb through her hair with long, slow strokes.
Challa rubbed her cheek on his jacket.

“What else can you do?” he murmured.

“Like what?”

He gave an easy shrug. “I don’t know. Invisibility? Can you read minds? Shoot bolts of energy from your fingers?”

The visual image Challa got from his comment made her laugh. “No. I’m only a Ruinos. I can’t do any of that stuff.”

He sighed loudly and pulled away from her. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. We have a lot to discuss.”

Chapter 15

Loving

Challa glanced around the living room, realizing that the place made her feel welcome. Comfortable. The furniture was well used but in good condition. The sofa had a hand-crocheted afghan draped over the back. The two leather chairs were shiny from much use. The hardwood floors had woven rag rugs scattered around it. The far wall had a fireplace, and to the far right of it was a door leading to a hallway. She glanced up at Compton, who had turned on a table lamp and was gesturing toward the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll start a fire.”

He waited for her to sit down. Once she curled her legs underneath her, he pulled the afghan from behind her and wrapped her in it. Compton grinned. “Warm enough?”

“Yeah.” She smiled back.

He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and turned his attention to getting a fire going in the rock fireplace. It didn’t take long. Compton brushed his hands together once he was done and joined Challa on the sofa, pulling her against him until she was nestled along his side.

He turned off the lamp, and they watched the fire in silence. Every so often Compton would plant a kiss on top of her hair. The room was replete with fruity smells. The crackling fire was soporific. Pressed against Compton’s side, Challa felt cocooned in his love. She was floating, separated from her body, and on the verge of falling asleep when he spoke, his voice echoing inside his chest.

“Challa? Challa, don’t go to sleep on me just yet.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Compton sucked in his breath as he stared down at her. “The way your eyes glitter…that’s just freaky.” He frowned, and she realized he was thinking. “You can see in the dark?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Challa…do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

The comment earned her a smile.

* * * *

She was staring up at him with absolute trust. With those eerily beautiful blue and purple eyes. Alien eyes. Shadows from the flames dancing on their surfaces illuminated the flecks until they sparkled like swirling bits of glass.

As if his palms weren’t sweaty enough, he felt like he was burning up. Challa had no idea how much she was affecting him, and he couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way. Once he’d gotten over the shock that she was a genuine alien, having her in his arms felt natural and perfect. Alien or not, she felt like the lost puzzle piece he’d been searching for all his life. With her, he was finally complete. A whole man emotionally and mentally, if not physically.

Incredibly, it was the physical part that was knocking him for a loop. He could not remember the last time he’d had such a massive hard-on as he did at this moment. For the love of Pete, the girl wasn’t even a real girl, and his dick felt like it could pile drive fence posts into the ground.

And if that wasn’t news enough, Compton felt as if he’d just been juiced up with a hundred CCs of testosterone. The man who had been First Lieutenant Compton James Scott had emerged from his chrysalis, no longer the post-pubescent high school nerd who had enlisted soon after graduation. Or the man with two medals and a handful of commendations who had retreated back into another shell after the explosion that took his comrades and his leg.

No, not retreated.
More like withdrew.
The Army officer had sealed himself inside his damaged shell. After being released from the hospital, First Lieutenant Scott traded in his helmet and flak jacket for jeans and a ball cap, and made way for civilian Compton Scott. Made way for the old him to slink back into regular life and a normal, comfortable routine, and face the same prospects as he had four years ago.

Except that now he had less to offer a woman when it came to intimacy.

Challa had changed all that. Hell, Challa had changed everything. Challa was drawing him out, and giving him back his life and a reason for living again.

Compton buried his nose in her hair for the fourth or fifth time—he’d lost count, and couldn’t care less how often he did it anymore. No matter where he sniffed her, that whiff of honeysuckle continued to excite him. It wasn’t soap or shampoo. He’d bet his life on it. Neither was it perfume. When he’d held her in her alien persona, that sweet scent had been on her, the same way it was on her now in her human guise.

“Answer me something first?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Why do you smell like honeysuckle?”

Swear to God, he felt her stiffen with surprise. But at the same time, it was like fireworks were going off inside her. Compton held his breath as the sensations fluttered up to him.

“Are you sure I smell like that to you?” she asked with undisguised delight.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because it’s another way true life mates know they were meant for each other,” Challa confessed. “We each hold a very unique scent for each other.” She peered up at him. “Remember when I said you smell like oranges to me.”

“Yeah. Why oranges?” He quickly searched his memory to see if by chance he had handled any oranges recently, or drank any juice. Challa tapped his chin with a forefinger, drawing his attention back to her.

“Among my people, we can read emotions as smells. And right now you smell worried.”

“Worried? What does worry smell like?”

“Like apples.”

He managed to chuckle. “I’m beginning to feel like a fruit cocktail.” He started to say more, when Challa shifted around on the couch and halfway crawled into his lap to kiss him.

She had warmed up to the point that her flesh beneath his palms was pliant and unbelievably silky. Her hair fell across his neck and cheek as she continued to climb over his legs before she stopped, facing him, her legs straddling his. Compton stared up at her, unaware that his breathing had quickened. Unaware that his hands had slid from her back to her ribs. And at that moment his thumbs were able to caress the sides of her breasts.

Her breasts.

His thumbs twitched involuntarily. So did his erection, which tented up between them. There was no way he could hide it now, and no way she could not notice it.

“Compton, why does my Ruinos self not frighten you?”

God, he loved the way she talked. Especially the funny little way she rolled her Rs. Or flipped them. Or whatever the hell it was she did to make them sound that way.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” he whispered back. “I was raised on science fiction. Books, movies, you name it, I was a first-class geek in school, but it didn’t bother me. Not really. I always wondered what it would be like to go into outer space. Meet alien creatures. Explore strange new worlds.” He managed a tiny shrug. “Maybe, deep down, I always knew I would encounter someone like you. Who knows? I could ask the same thing of you.”

She looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Why doesn’t it frighten you that you’re in love with a human?”

Challa paused to think about his question. Her weight in his lap was doing wild things to his sex drive. Things he was uninitiated in, unfortunately. Compton tried to adjust the way he was sitting on the sofa, but it only compounded the problem. Challa shifted her buttocks until she was nearly impaling herself on him.

“Don’t laugh at me, Compton, but you’re more like a Ruinos male than you know.”

“Oh?”

It sounded stupid, coming up with a single, simple one-word response. But his body refused to focus on anything else but the growing heat in his groin, and the rich, delicious smell fogging the inside of his head because of her nearness.

Challa nodded, laying her hands on his shoulders, and bent down closer. The periphery of the world went scarlet as her hair flowed past her cheeks and blocked his view of the living room.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Compton barely had the chance to react to her question, much less answer, when Challa added, “I need to know for certain if you’re my life mate. I need to have sex with you to be sure.”

And then she kissed him.

His world went from clear-cut to absolute gray in a matter of seconds. Every cell in his body was screaming to make love with this creature, to this unearthly woman who was riding his lap with equestrian skills. But his conscience was holding the Sword of Damocles overhead, threatening to put a halt to any future he may have believed could be possible with her.