Billionaire Romance: Strike to the Heart (New Adult College Second Chance Age Play Older Man Younger Woman Romance) (Contemporary BBW BDSM Wealthy Rich Alpha Male Hero Short Stories) (6 page)

              “Do not apologize. It is how I am used to being treated by humans.”

              “Please don’t think we are all like that. We aren’t. I for one think that keeping you and your people in these camps is a disgusting misuse of power by the government. Let alone a criminal act. I truly am sorry.” She holds out a hand. “My name is Jamie Gettner and I am a reporter with the Gazette.”

              “Long life to you Jamie Gettner of the Gazette. I am Bol previously of Sendara now of Camp Venogar.”

              Jamie shakes his hand and takes another drink of the soda. As she drinks she looks around Bol’s home. It seems to just consist of one room with a kitchenette and a curtain for the bathroom area. He catches her looking around and waves a hand around the room.

              “It isn’t much, but as you said before, ‘Beggars cannot be choosers.’ It serves me well enough and it keeps the rain and snow out.”

              “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blatant.”

              “Worry not Jamie Gettner. You are a reporter. Your job is to look at things from every angle, is it not?”

              “Yes, it is I suppose.”

              “Are you hungry?”

              “Not at the moment, but I am sleepy.”

              “Wait here one moment.” Bol gets up out of his seat and walks to the back of the room. He opens a door that Jamie assumed led to the outside, but to her surprise it leads to another room. The room is quite dark inside. He disappears inside for a moment. When he returns he is holding a bottle in his hands that contains a dark green liquid. Handing it to her, he speaks.

              “Take a small drink of this.”

              “What is it?” asks Jamie, holding the bottle up to the light in order to study its contents.

              “It is a painkiller of sorts that my people make. It is made from a mushroom that we grow. It will help you sleep as well as take care of the pain.”

              “Is it safe for a human?”

              “It is,” he answers.

              “How can you be so sure about that?”

              “Some of my people sell it to the guards and others that come to various places along the wall. They abuse it and use it to get high, but it has no adverse effects if used properly. I promise you.”

              “Alright.” Jamie tilts up the bottle and takes a small sip of the liquid. She expects it to be nasty, but to her astonishment it tastes a lot like grape juice with a hint of something that she has never tasted before. “Wow!” She holds the bottle out and studies it again. “That doesn’t taste at all like medicine.”

              “No it doesn’t, and that is the reason that one must be careful with it. Even though it doesn’t taste like it, that is an extremely powerful painkiller. If abused it will destroy your liver and kidneys in a matter of months.”

              Jamie’s eyelids are already beginning to get heavy, but her mind has always been sharp and is still working properly, if a little slow. “This must be what people are calling Astara Morphine. I’ve heard that junkies will give anything for a swallow of this stuff.”

              “I’m afraid so.” He reaches out and takes the bottle from her.

              “Thank you for what you...” She lays back on the bed with his help and closes her eyes. She struggles to open them again, but her eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and each thought takes all of her concentration to formulate. “Thank you for... today...”

              “You are welcome Jamie Gettner.”

              Jamie drifts off to sleep with a smile on her face.

*****

              The smell of something delicious being cooked wakes Jamie. She sits up on the edge of the bed she is in, and winces at the pain that shoots through her head. For a second she can’t remember where she is, but then the events of the day before come flooding back to her. She is sitting in the kitchenette across from the bed. Bol is standing with his back to her as he cooks over a small stove.

              “Good morning Jamie Gettner.”

              She isn’t sure how he knew that she was up, but right at the moment she doesn’t care. “Good morning Bol. May I ask where you bathroom is?”

              He points with a spatula at a small curtained-off room to the right of the kitchen. “In there. There is running water, but not much I am afraid. I live by an adage that I believe comes from your people. If it is yellow let it mellow. If it is brown flush it down.”

              Jamie chuckles, but it hurts her head so much to do so that she cuts her laughing short quickly. “Thanks.”

              She rushes to the curtain and whips it aside. Behind is more than she expected, but less that she is used to. A toilet sits in the corner and beside it a couple of rolls of cheap brown toilet paper. A small tub sits along the opposite wall, but she can see no spout.
He must carry the water up in buckets,
she thinks as she rushes to the toilet to pee. A small window in the wall beside the toilet provides a view of the camp. She looks out the window and catches her breath.

              She is at least three floors off the ground and looking over a small square. Vendor stall after vendor stall lines the square with Astara going to and fro looking at the wears of the vendors as they cry out what they are selling. Astaran children run around under the feet of the adults, playing as human kids do. For a moment Jamie merely sits on the toilet and looks out over the camp. Despite the apocalyptic look of the town the Astara seem to be happy. She watches as a mother and her daughter buy some fruits from a vendor and walk away from the square holding hands. Smoke rises from various places all over the camp; never enough to be from a major fire, so she assumes the smoke must be from cooking or heating fires. A large well takes up the middle of the square. A single Astara stands by the well. Some aliens bring him a slip of paper. He punches a hole in it, and then pulls up a bucket of water for them, which they divide out and carry off in various different containers.  Most of the Astara have blue, green, or orange hair, but a few of them have hair that is nearly black like Bol’s.
Must be a genetic difference like purple eyes in humans or webbed feet,
she thinks as she pulls her gaze away from the window.

              As she starts back out the door Jamie catches her reflection in a small mirror that is hanging on the wall. She gasps and puts a hand to the sides of her head where her hair is shaved off. Recalling the conversation she had with Bol the night before, she remembers that he had to cut away her hair to get to the cut on her head. She runs a hand through what is left of her hair and turns away from the mirror.
I can’t believe that I’ve got a freaking mohawk. Never saw that coming.

              “How do you feel this morning?” Bol asks as she sits down at a small table he has set up between the kitchen and the bed. On the table are two plates with eggs and what looks like spinach.

              “I feel a lot better, but my head still hurts if I move it to quickly or bend over.”

              “I suspected as much.” He points to the greens on the plate. “The vegetables on you plate are ones that survived from my home planet. We call it
caravish
and it greatly promotes healing in the body when eaten. After we have finished eating I will take a look at your cut and re-dress it.”

              “Thank you Bol.” Jamie eats her meal with gusto and when she finishes, Bol checks her wound.

              “It looks better than it did yesterday, but I am still worried about infection.” He holds a jar out before her and lets her take it and examine it. “This is a salve my people make. It promotes healing and helps to prevent infection. I used some on you yesterday, but you were unconscious. Now I will ask you if I may do so again.”

              “Of course.”

              “This will sting slightly.”

              Jamie winces and hisses through her teeth as he applies the salve to her head wound. It doesn’t sting ‘slightly’ at all. The only thing she has ever had sting as badly was one time in school. She smiles as Bol finishes wrapping her head in a bandage.

              “What is so funny, may I ask?”

              “I was just remembering a time at school when me and a few of my friends did something that we thought was funny, but turned out to be a lesson for us as well.”

              “Oh.” He slides in front of her and sits down in a chair. “If there is one thing I love it is a good story. Please continue.”

              “Well, I was sixteen and I played softball. Do you know what softball is?” At his nod she continues. “My and a few of my friends on the team thought it would be funny to put muscle rub inside the softball helmets before practice. Muscle rub burns like that stuff you just put on my head.”

              “Oh.”

              “Anyway, we put the muscle rub in the helmets and thought we were the smartest pranksters in the world. Only problem was that when it came time for us to put helmets on during the practice we had forgotten which ones had the muscle rub in them and which didn’t. We put on ones that did, and when our heads started sweating the muscle rub started burning our scalps and we were running around with the others in just as much pain.” Jamie lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “That was a good day even if we did forget which helmets were which.”

              Bol lets out a chuckle. “Sounds like you had a lot of fun with your friends.”

              “I did.” She indicates the empty plate in front of her. “Thank you for the meal Bol. I can’t repay you right now, but I will.”

              “Just to have you write a report on us for the newspaper will be more than enough. Maybe you can help spread the word that my people aren’t as bad as most think we are. I know that you had a rough time on your first day, but don’t let those few who would seek to ruin your time here set the mold for the rest of us. Only a handful like Grum and his associates are like that.”

              “I know all about his kind. We have people just like him in our own society. Never happy with what they have and always ready to take out their anger and frustration on the nearest outlet.”

              “That is the way of it.” He offers her his hand. “Come now. You need more rest so that your head has time to heal.”

              “I would like to see some of you camp first.” She argues.

              “There will be time for that later. Rest for now.”

              She stretches out on the bed with a sigh. She hadn’t noticed before because she had been reminiscing, but she had a splitting headache. She eagerly takes the pain reliever drink from him and drinks from it. Instantly, the pain begins to recede and dull down.

              “You know something?” She asks him as she feels herself falling asleep.

              “What’s that?”

              “I have never seen an Astara before I came here other than in pictures and never as up close as you. I must say that I am surprised by how human you look. In the movies and other media they try make you look like something akin to monsters. I have to admit that I’m surprised by how human you look. Other than your hair and eye color you look just like a human.” Her eyelids are growing heavy, but she continues to speak. “The only other thing different is that stripe across your nose. I thought at first it was a tattoo, but now that I’ve been around a few of you I see that it is some kind of birth mark.” She closes her eyes and smiles as she drifts off to sleep. “You’re handsome too, with your broad shoulders and kind smile. A woman could get used to waking up to that smile...”

              The next morning Jamie opens wakes up to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. She sits up slowly in bed and is glad to find that her head barely hurts at all. There is still some residual pain when she moves it too quickly, but other than that it feels pretty good.
If only I still had my hair.
She runs a hand over her scalp and winces at the sound that the short hair makes as it bristles against her palm. Another knock at the door reminds her of the reason she woke.

              Not thinking, she gets up and starts for the door. A strong hand falls on her shoulder just as she is reaching out to take hold of the doorknob. She turns around and faces Bol. He shakes his head and motions for her to step to the side.

              “I don’t have many visitors up here,” he explains as he steps to the door. In one smooth motion he flings it open and drops into a low fighting stance with his arms up and poised to strike out.

              Jamie is ready for an attack, but lets out a sigh when she sees that an Astaran woman is standing in the doorway. An older Astara, if her white hair is any indication of age like it is in humans. Bol leaps to his feet and bows before the woman.

              “Elder Rin. I am sorry for that display of ignorance, but I had a run-in with Grum a few days ago and was afraid that he was here to cause even more problems.”

              “Do not be sorry my child.” Elder Rin reaches out a hand and lays it on the back of his head. “You were prepared and there is nothing wrong with being prepared.”