ALIEN ABDUCTION (Captured by Aliens) (23 page)

“Are you certain there is another one this
way?” Ranger asked, propping his hands on the worn pommel of his saddle.  “I’ve
just about worn my ass off riding.”

“The baker said he delivers wheat and oats this
way a few times a year.  He’s the one that said he thought he’d seen a girl
watching him behind a thatched cottage.  I didn’t say a damned thing about it,”
Jaxon said, cracking his neck as if for emphasis.

“We’ll sniff her out if there’s one here,”
Ranger said, glancing behind them and giving the girls a wink.

Behind them, the gaggle of women they were
escorting to the festival squawked and babbled like a flock of geese.  The
sound of their high pitched voices and laughter made Jaxon grit his teeth.

Baby-sitting duty.

He rubbed his throbbing temples, eager to be
done with this business so he could return to his home alone.

As much as the others might look forward to the
festival and the chance to find a mate, or just get laid, Jaxon wanted no part
of it.  He preferred his peaceful solitude.  He was too damned old and set in
his ways to want a woman to come into his life and create chaos in his
carefully ordered world.

Plus, he knew with his looks, he’d never get
one he wanted.  Most of them took one look at the scars on his face and
high-tailed it back to prettier fare like Torolf and Ranger.

The Bear Clan had done more than just scarred
his face and ruin his knee, they’d given him a lasting reminder of
vulnerability that repulsed the others of his clan, even if they were grateful
for his sacrifice in protecting them.

Being a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to
be.

Jaxon raised in the stirrups, letting some of
the kinks out of his sore backside.  He rolled his head, cracking his neck
again as if that would alleviate the headache that’d been bothering him since
the night before.

He didn’t want to admit it was probably from
sleeping on the ground and being on the road…that he was past his prime.

Adolfo pulled the reins with his meaty hands,
making the enormous horses stop before the trail.  The pair snorted and pawed
at the ground before settling down.  “Road’s too narrow.  I’ll wait here with
the wagon while you all check ahead.”

Jaxon nodded, nudging his bay horse forward
with his booted heels.  Leaving the noise behind suited him just fine.  Behind
him, Torolf and Ranger followed suit.

Ancient trees reached their heavy arms towards
one another, arching limbs over the road like a canopy.  Grey moss laced
through the leaves, dripping from the branches like curtains.  Dust motes
drifted through the early morning sunlight that dappled the pitted trail.

Foliage hugging the road slapped against his
legs as he guided his horse along the little used trail--if the overgrowth was
any indication.  If the baker was to be believed, the couple that lived out
here rarely went to town, but he said he’d caught glimpses of a young girl a
few times and thought they were keeping her out of sight on purpose.

Jaxon knew how small towns were.  If anything
didn’t seem normal, it was up for conversation and speculation.  It could be
she was just too young to participate in the festivities and had overprotective
parents.  Tradition dictated all unmated women gather for mating rights, but he
wasn’t so sure he’d want a daughter of his attending the sometimes brutal
festival.

The smell of earth permeated the air, and the
longer they traversed the trail, the clearer the scent of cooking meat became. 
Jaxon caught a whiff of bacon grease carrying through the air.

“We’re close,” he said to Torolf and Ranger.

“I know.  The smell is driving me crazy,”
Ranger said.

“My stomach’s about to eat me alive,” Torolf
muttered, clutching his belly.

“We’ll get done here and go out on a hunt.  I’m
ready for some fresh meat,” Jaxon said.

As he said it, the quaint cottage came into his
view.  A small paned window stood open, allowing bacon grease and wood smoke to
perfume the air.  The trail came to an end at a small, closed gate.  Over the
rustic wood fence, Jaxon could see a few dozen chickens pecking at feed strewn
across the dirt.

He dropped down off his horse, handing the
reins to Torolf before going to the gate.  It opened with a creek, and he
stepped under the small trellis trimmed in ivy before walking stiffly down a
flagstone path.  His bum knee burned and pinched from riding in the saddle for
too many days, and he favored it with a slight limp.

The way the sunlight filtered through the great
pines surrounding the cottage produced a homey picture that made him miss his
own place.

Approaching the porch, he could hear voices
inside that quieted as he stepped on the hand hewn boards and rapped sharply on
the door.

A chair scraped inside.

His senses, ever acute, detected furtive
movement.  Jaxon cocked his ear, listening to anxious moves, steps across
weakened floorboards.  The scrape of two more chairs.  He felt the vibrations
of a door being shut.

Puzzled, Jaxon frowned and knocked again. 
Harder this time.

Footsteps approached the door.  Jaxon tensed,
expecting the worst.

“Who goes there?” a male voice asked on the
other side.

By the raspy quality, Jaxon suspected the man
was older.  “Open in the name of Clan Leader, Nicodemus,” he said.

A few moments passed. 

The doorknob squeaked as it rotated, and the
door slowly opened.  A cautious old man with black skin and a salt and pepper
beard and white hair peered through the crack.  Behind him, he could see what
had to be the man’s wife, round and short with wide, fear filled brown eyes.

Why were they so scared?  Enemies certainly
wouldn’t take the time to knock before attacking.

“Who are you?  What you want?” he asked in a
furious whisper.

Jaxon cleared his throat, relaxing the fists
he’d made of his hands without realizing it.  He pasted a smile on his face. 
“Good morning Sir, Madam.  I’ve orders to round up all available women for the
Moonlight Festival.  I’ve heard word from town that you have a daughter.”

“We ain’t got no daughter,” the man said,
moving to shut the door.

Jaxon put his foot on the stoop, blocking him. 
The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned.  “Reliable sources tell me
you do.  Can I check for myself?  I’ve come a long way.”

Behind the old man, the wife tugged at his
sleeve.  He dipped his head to let her whisper in his ear.  Finally, he
nodded.  “I reckon.  But make it quick.  We was eating breakfast.”

The man opened the door, allowing Jaxon to walk
inside.  “It won’t take long,” Jaxon said, applying his politest voice and
immediately spotting the loft above the kitchen and the table set for three.

Jaxon stopped at the table.  Beneath his foot,
he felt the floorboards sag beneath a rug covering.

Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the
table, then glanced at the plump woman.  “Any reason you have three plates? 
Were you expecting someone?”

The wife hurried to the table.  “That was just
some extra I fixed for my husband.  Sometimes he wants seconds in the morning.”

Jaxon stooped and flipped the rug up, revealing
a trap door.  “What’s this?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.

“It’s just the root cellar,” the old man said,
crinkling his forehead and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“You don’t mind if I check it too?”

“Nothing down there but salted meat and
preserves,” the old man said, walking stiffly into the room.  His wife waited
by the open door, wringing her hands.

“Just the same….”  Jaxon nodded, then pulled
the rung and lifted the trapdoor.

As soon as it was opened, a form lunged through
the opening, knocking Jaxon back on his ass.  The wind left his lungs and the
floorboards reverberated with the force of his landing.  A girl leapt over his
prone body, heading for the open door.

Jaxon snatched at her ankle as she ran past. 
The girl stomped his fingers before continuing through the small house,
bursting outside and leaving him behind as he recovered.

Rolling on his belly with a roar, Jaxon
launched himself to his feet.  She was quick, he’d give her that.

“Too old for this,” he growled, following
seconds behind her.

She rounded the building, moving away from his
men waiting outside the front gate instead of heading straight for them.

“You got this?” Ranger called when Jaxon came
into view.

He didn’t answer, focusing instead on catching
the girl.  Dust sifted into the air from her feet striking the bare ground. 
She ducked around the thick trunk of a pine, heading for deeper wood.  Pine
needles and leaves scattered in her wake.

He surged behind her and felt his knee threaten
to buckle beneath the strain.  He realized her head start would keep her just
out of reach if he didn’t do something drastic.  He didn’t have time for this
shit, and he damned sure wasn’t going back to his men empty handed and showing
them he didn’t have an edge anymore.

Without pause, Jaxon shifted seamlessly to the
wolf, his loose clothing no impediment to the change.  Years of practice, from
the time he was a mere boy, allowed him to transform without pain or strain.

Padded feet hit the ground, soft and lithe,
carrying him with a speed his human form could never match.  He charged through
the underbrush, a dark blur as he pursued the girl.

She glanced back, eyes wide as she saw him. 
She stumbled over a root, careening to the left to avoid hitting the trunk.

The scent of her fear permeated the air, and he
caught a whiff of fine sweat as she pushed herself ahead to recover her
unsteady gait.  Weaving through the trees, she swiveled through the sentinels
in her wooden shoes and kicked them off to gain better traction in the soft,
moist loam.

The tactic wouldn’t save her.

Jaxon shot forward, energy pulsing through his
powerful muscles.  Her panting rang in his ears, making his blood thunder with
excitement as he closed in on her.

Her lilac dress flapped like a sail in a breeze
of her own making.  He launched off the ground with his hind legs, snagging the
coarse fabric with his muzzle.  Ripping at the fabric like a wild, excited
beast, he snatched her backward.  She screamed, flipping backward to land on
her backside.

Halting her flight, Jaxon immediately shifted
back to human form, landing on top of her.  He pinned her back to the ground,
kicking and screaming, snapping her teeth at his arms and face and flailing her
arms in a tornado of movement that nearly stunned him.

“Hold … still,” Jaxon shouted, sitting on her
stomach to keep her from bucking him off.  Fear strengthened her, but she was
still no match for his greater weight and experience.

“Get off me,” she screamed, clawing at his face
with talon-like fingers.

Her struggles forced him to wrangle her arms to
the ground above her head.  It left him panting for breath above her, his face
within inches of her gnashing teeth and glaring golden eyes.

“Do you yield? Do you yield to me” he asked
again when she refused to answer, tightening his hands on her wrists for
emphasis.

Her eyes widened, terror filled.  “Never!” she
said, breathless, through gritted teeth.