Alien Mine (5 page)

Chapter 4

Did he just move
?

Inching silently toward the wall where she'd left the shotgun, Natalie reached for it, but changed her mind and grabbed the club instead, gripping it with both hands. Then, hunching on the cave floor, her club at the ready, she watched him for a long time.

Finally deciding the twitch she'd seen must have been her imagination, she straightened her aching body with a groan.

Was there any way she could convince him to go away and leave her in peace? Probably not. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to communicate with him.

She glared down at him. "The only thing that would make all this aggravation worth it is if you turned out to be friendly. And helpful." Her loneliness crept back in. "Someone I could talk to."

Sweating and groaning, she wrestled him off the hover board and propped him against the cave wall, only to jump back in surprise. Somehow, during the time she'd been moving him off the board and trying to get him to stay sitting upright against the wall, he'd turned green and copper again. The color he'd been when slaughtering the raiders. His clothes changed color to blend with his skin and that, more than his speed and the way bullets bounced off him, showed her how advanced his technology was.

For a long moment, she watched his hands, expecting to see the silver sword miraculously appear again. When it didn't, she inched forward. She still had to secure his hands to the hook.

It took all her strength to move his hands over his head and fasten them to the hook. The muscles in his upper arms strained against the material covering him, and she could just imagine it ripping to shreds. A claw still tipped each finger, though they weren't as long as when he'd been slicing through the raiders. She shuddered at the memory.

Natalie sat back on her haunches, gingerly studying him. Why, after all that pulling and heaving, didn't he come to already? She didn't want him to, but at the same time the anticipation was killing her.

Feeling lost and helpless, she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and wiped at them angrily. Her father would've known exactly how to handle this situation. Loneliness tugged at her as it always did when she thought of her father. With her head bowed, she sat there, on the hard cave floor, for what felt like forever.

At last, blinking back the tears, she mentally shook off her melancholy.
This is no time to feel sorry for myself.

She grabbed the rest of the rope where it hung from his hands and tied his legs together until he looked like a mummy from his ankles to just below his knees. She would have gone higher, but she ran out of rope. Feeling slightly better, she stepped back to admire her work.

Shivers racked her whole body, reminding her of how cold she still was. Cold and dirty.

She felt disgusting, like she'd been infected by a flesh-eating disease and she could still feel the imprint of the raiders' groping hands on her thighs. Even her hair felt violated.

She grabbed the shotgun and staggered toward the back of the cave where a small alcove indented the wall. Calling it a bathroom was an exaggeration. All she had was a basin she filled with water after heating it in an urn set over her precious coals. But it was better than nothing.

Her father had originally planned to bring in water from the waterfall that cascaded down the valley. He'd even devised a plan to heat the water without using coal. But he'd passed away before seeing those plans realized.

Propping the shotgun against the wall, she gripped the edges of the basin to steady herself, her exhaustion finally taking its toll. She was too tired to feel afraid anymore, and the adrenaline that had been pumping through her system for hours now finally started to dissipate. Nausea rolled up her throat. She whirled and ran for the nearest bucket, making it just in time before her stomach expelled its contents.

Leaning over the bucket, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to rid herself of the memory of the raiders' leering faces, the blank stares on their decapitated heads, the blood gushing from torn flesh.

She heaved again. It took a long time for her stomach to settle, before she felt like she could move without vomiting.

Shivering and weak, she carried the bucket into the tunnel to leave it in a different cave. She didn't have the stomach to deal with the clean-up just yet.

When she returned to the bathing alcove, she clumsily turned the spout on the urn to fill the clay basin she used for washing with water. Of all the things she missed about the farmhouse, she missed running water the most.

She shed her down jacket then started to strip off the torn dress but hesitated. She could see from where she stood that the alien still sat unconscious against the wall near the mouth of the cave, but that didn't erase her unease.

With a sigh, she moved some metal crates, positioning them in front of the alcove. They were empty, making them easy enough to stack. Ensuring he would only be able to see her head and shoulders should he happen to wake up, she then fished out a clean pair of jeans, a warm sweater, and socks from the wooden chest.

Natalie stripped off the rest of her clothes, tossing them into a pile to launder. The yellow dress, she'd burn.

Exhaustion weighted her limbs as she washed her hair, constantly checking for signs that the alien was rousing. After wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she lathered up a washcloth with cold, soapy water. She cringed as the cloth touched her abused skin. Tears ran down her cheeks but still she scrubbed every inch of her body. The bite marks and bruises stung anew when the cloth moved over them and she winced. Her cheek still felt swollen and puffy from her captor's blows.

Every hair on her body stood on end, but it wasn't from the cold. Something in the air had changed, the eerie quiet of the falling snow intensifying.

Slowly, slowly, she turned her head.

Red, devilish eyes stared at her with unblinking menace from the mouth of the cave.

Natalie froze. The most savage gaze she'd ever seen followed her trembling hand as it crept up to cover her vulnerable neck.

He growled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Chapter 5

The temperature dropped, as if the very air was terrified. The sound of the wind, slapping against the canvas over the entrance, died as the alien continued to stare at her, sitting with his hands still tied to the wall.

Her mind screamed at her to move, to get dressed, to render him unconscious once more. Anything but stand there frozen, with her hand against her throat. His gaze traveled down her body to settle on her bare breasts. She could feel the heat of his eyes, searing her flesh. At last, her muscles obeyed and she dived behind the stack of crates. Drawing her knees to her chest, Natalie closed her eyes and pressed her back against the boxes.

I tied him up, he can't hurt me.

She peeked around the corner of the containers, straight into his unblinking red eyes.

"Uh, hello?" She waved hesitantly then cringed. "Um, excuse me while I, um--"

Hiding behind the boxes again, she fumbled for her knitted blue sweater, slipping it over her head before pulling on the thick woollen pants. Resting her head on her knees, she closed her eyes for a moment then dried her palms on her thighs. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, then stood up and walked around the stacked boxes.

He watched her every step, like a predator stalking its prey. His nostrils flared, as if he could smell her from such a distance. Could he hear the sound of her heart, beating in intense panic, as well?

What did one ask an alien? Especially one you'd clobbered and tied up?

"Do--do you speak English?" She barely heard her own voice over the pounding of her heart in her ears. The cold, in the surrounding air and rising up from the floor of the cave, seeped into her bare feet until her knees ached. She reached for her boots, never taking her eyes off him.

His expression didn't change.

If only she could believe he was more scared of her than she was of him. This alien, this male didn't fear anything, did he?

Desperate to get her boots on, to feel less vulnerable, she moved to sit down on the cave floor, but her sore muscles protested and she lost her balance. The empty boxes scattered as she tried to right herself, her bum landing with a faint thump. She half expected the alien to start laughing at her clumsiness, but he only continued to watch her with his intense gaze.

Natalie retrieved one of the scarred leather boots and jammed her left foot inside, only to realize it was the wrong foot. She hastily jerked the boot onto her right foot and reached for the other one. As if she wasn't frantic enough, his gaze, following her every move, was making her more self-conscious.

"Well, do you? Speak English, I mean?" she asked, more in an effort to distract him than honestly wanting to know. Although, if they could find a way to communicate on some level, it might make her feel less vulnerable. "Or maybe Spanglish?" Surely he would've made the effort to know the languages of the country he landed in. Most people spoke a mixture of English and Spanish. Though some, like her parents insisted on speaking pure English.

The cold from the cave floor seeped through her thick winter pants, freezing her behind. She pressed her trembling hands against the wall and pushed herself to her knees. She needed to get to the shotgun.

Keeping a wary eye on him, she walked over to where she'd propped the weapon against the wall. With slow, careful movements, she lifted it. The bullets from the shotgun wouldn't penetrate his armoured skin, but her father had always said that even the now extinct elephants had been vulnerable if shot in the eye.

Barely breathing, she watched him for any sudden moves as she inched forward, careful to stop well out of reach of his enormous, heavy-looking boots. She drew her shoulder back and purposely glared at him.

"I know the bullets from this gun won't hurt you, but let me reassure you that I can shoot any target I aim for." She motioned with the shotgun. "You make one move, and I'll shoot you in the eye. I bet those red eyes of yours aren't bullet proof," she said, proud of how tough she sounded.

The only response he gave was a low rumble, coming from deep in his chest.

The air in the cave seemed to thicken so that she could barely draw it into her lungs and she could swear his upper lip just moved in a subtle sneer. He didn't move or make any further sound, but chills crept down her spine.

"Are you alone? Are there any more of your kind on my mountain?" she asked. She was having trouble dealing with just one of them. What would she do if there were more? She wished she'd paid attention when Julia told her about the alien space ship. How many had landed?

He maintained his silence.

Natalie bit her lip. This wasn't going well. She had to make sure no other aliens came to her cave, but how?

She groaned inwardly and wanted to kick herself. He could have a tracking device. Why didn't she check him sooner, like while he lay unconscious? If he had any transmitter on him, she could be inundated with aliens any minute now.

Hesitating a moment, she moved closer to him. "I'm going to search you, but if you make one wrong move, I'll shoot you in the eye." She pointedly lifted the gun and sighted down the barrel at him as she took another step toward him.

Natalie's legs trembled more with every step she took, the alien still staring at her with that fierce red gaze. By the time she was near enough to touch him, she was afraid he'd hear her knees knocking together. And remembering that television series she'd seen with flesh eating aliens who'd devoured the last inhabitants of the Earth wasn't helping.

With grim determination, she ignored her muscles' aching protests and crouched next to his bound legs. She really didn't want to be this close to him, but she had to search him before any of his friends showed up. Even though she was kneeling and he was sitting, he still towered over her. And she was tall for a woman.

Keeping a careful eye on him, she slowly patted his boots, feeling for the bulge of any hidden weapons or devices. They seemed to be molded to his feet, too tight against his skin to have been pulled on, and she couldn't see any kind of fasteners. They also had the oddest texture, like hardened leather. They were muddy brown now, but when he'd first appeared in the clearing that morning, she remembered they'd been a shiny silvery colour.

She pressed a finger very carefully against a raised ridge at the side of his boots and winced at how hard they felt. It seemed everything about him was hard and unyielding, even his footwear.

She braced herself for a kick, but to her surprise, he sat absolutely still, following her movements while she tried to figure out if any of the sharp ridges on his boots were a weapon or tracking device.

Finding nothing, she sat back and bit her lip as she regarded his muscled calves. It seemed rude to just run her hands over his body. But she had to touch him. Everywhere.

Heat warmed her cheeks.

"Uhm, I'm going to search your legs now." She felt like an idiot, still talking to someone who probably didn't understand a word she said.

Avoiding his gaze, she carefully placed her hand on his lower leg. He was surprisingly warm, his muscles not feeling as stone-like as they had when he'd been unconscious. As her fingers traveled slowly up his calf, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. The menace she'd felt only moments earlier was gone, replaced with something that made her nervous in an entirely different way. A kind of seductive curiosity.

As she patted upward, his leg muscles flexed under her hands. This was the closest she'd come to touching another living being in a very long time and it was shameful how much she enjoyed feeling his heat, his vibrancy. Her ex-fiancé, Andre, was a handsome man but even he wasn't as well built as this silent alien.

She pushed any thought of Andre away and focused on the steel-hard muscles beneath her hands. How had he gotten so toned? Did he work out every hour of every day? Even his knees had muscles.

She finished with his knees but still hadn't found any weapons or transmitting devices. Sitting back on her haunches, she bit her lip so hard she expected to taste blood. Maybe patting him down wasn't such a hot idea. She probably wouldn't recognize an alien weapon even if she found one.

***

Zgaachrr stared at the little human while he waited for his translator to kick in. His tech people had promised this version would work within hours. Yet it'd been one whole Earth day and he wanted to communicate with the human female. Now.

He jerked his tied hands, enjoying the way she jumped and inched back from him. She'd touched a grenade, his laser pistol, and a sensor bomb, all without even realizing it. And she didn't even hesitate or try to question him about their use. Her finger had even grazed over his self-destruct button, and if it hadn't been calibrated to his touch, she would've blown up her mountain, as well as his ship. At the very least, she should've noticed and taken the weapons off his person.

Instead, she lingered over his legs, almost caressing his muscles, arousing him to the point where he wanted to break loose of the primitive bonds holding him and forget about getting to know her first.

She was the only pleasing thing he'd found on this backward planet with its puny inhabitants. He especially liked the silk growing out of her head.
Hair
, he remembered. They called it hair. Her hair and eyes reminded him of the sky on his planet. They were so mesmerizing, he had trouble looking away. In his study of this planet, he'd learned they called the color brown in their primitive language.

The conquest of this planet was an insult to his warrior's pride. The inhabitants were barely clinging to a civilization that had all but collapsed and wouldn't provide any resistance.

Yet, she would make the change in plans worth it. He could forget his original plans of conquering the more worthy planet they'd been on their way to, before that damn black hole had sucked them in.

He flexed his muscles, delighted by the way she flinched at his every move.

If their leader, Zyghrczryn, saw her, he might try to claim her. A weak female like her would be the perfect tool for the Leader to redeem his honor. But Zacar would make sure that didn't happen. Zyrgin might be powerful, but Zacar was going to keep this female all to himself.

***

The alien looked at her with even more intensity, which she hadn't thought possible.

Natalie stretched out her hand in a pleading gesture. "Please talk to me. Are you alone here? Why did you come to Earth?"

She shook her head at her own naiveté. He wasn't going to politely tell her where to locate his tracking devices or how to destroy them. Or if his friends were on their way right now.

As she'd expected, he didn't answer her, just looked from her to his thighs.
He knows. He know I don't want to touch him there.

Determined not to show him any weakness, she reached out and gripped his hard thigh. Muscles rippled under her hand, and she couldn't help but notice a bulge grow at the junction of his legs. Her face burned hotter than the coal she used to heat her washing bowl. This alien definitely had the attributes of a human male and, apparently, the same responses.

Hoping he wouldn't understand the surge of heat in her face, she continued to stroke, no pat, his thighs. But no matter how she touched or prodded, she couldn't find any trace of weapons or transmitting devices. At the very least, she would have liked to find the sword that had appeared in his hand as if by magic. If he managed to make it appear again, he could cut himself loose, and then--