MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) (89 page)

Chapter Six

Emily awoke to find herself in her own bed. She sucked in a breath, noting how simple this task was. Pain free. She closed her eyes and opened them again, but she was still laying in her own bed. This wasn’t a dream.

Lycon. Somehow she felt his presence but, she couldn’t see him anywhere around her.

Mauve sat sleeping on her small couch.

She licked her lips, her tongue no softer than sandpaper. She spotted a glass of water on her right side table, but when she went to pick it up, it slipped right through her fingers, crashing to the floor.

Mauve jumped at the sound, glancing around him before his eyes finally landed on Emily.

A soft smile stretched across his face. “There you are.”

“What happened? Did you go after me?”

But Mauve shook his head.

Emily’s heart dropped. That meant Lycon must have found her, which meant her little problem was far from being resolved.

“There was a man that came looking for you. He said that you had made some sort of agreement?”

Emily nodded. “Lycon.”

“Well he came back hours later with you.” Mauve stood up and came to her bedside. “I couldn’t take you to the hospital because of who you are, but he seemed to know what to do.”

Emily furrowed her brow. “So what did he do?”

“You were near dead and you had lost a lot of blood, and we had no medication so he just gave you his.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “He gave me his blood?”

Mauve nodded. “It was the only way.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. He slept for hours but he’s gone now.”

Emily’s heart fell. Why would he leave her? She had spent so much time under his magnifying glass that she felt empty and exposed without it. “He’s gone?”

“He said something about…” Mauve shook his head. “It wasn’t worth your life? He would find another way? I don’t know.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. He had given up on her. “That was my last chance at uncovering Mum and Dad. He’s Kaharan, Mauve.”

His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, love.”

Emily closed her eyes. “It could never have worked. You know my condition.”

“… about that…”

Emily’s eyes flashed open.

“It turns out that you and Lycon were somehow a perfect match. The transfusion saved you. Your blood and body are different now because of him. You can live a normal life.”

Her eyes prickled with tears of joy. “So I can…”

“Have a child, yes…and survive it too.”

She clutched her sheets. “This is so strange,” she whispered. What were the odds that this unique set of events would transpire? What were the odds that they would lead to her getting her life back?

Lycon.

There it was again, the essence of him. She could feel herself being pulled, but not just to the idea to him, to an actual location.

Could it be?

“I have to find him.”

She sat up, ignoring the way her head spun.

“How?”

“I think I know where he is.”

Mauve just furrowed his brow.

“I don’t know how,” she said as she drew her hair up into a ponytail, “but I just know.” She made her way to her closet and pulled the doors open. “Do you still have my wet suit?”

“From your surfing days?” Mauve asked, his eyes alight with amusement.

Emily shook her head. The thought of getting salt water from the Pacific Ocean in her nose in front of all the judges still made her cringe. “Yes, Mauve, from my surfing days.”

He shook his head as he walked away. “So glad that’s over.”

Chapter Seven

An hour later, Emily had followed her newfound sixth sense to the oceanfront just outside of Goolway. The waves tumbled over each other, calm but living in a way. She sucked in a deep breath and then slipped out of her leather sandals. The water was lukewarm as it lapped over her feet. She closed her eyes, hoping that the pull had been wrong, that it would now lead her to somewhere completely different, somewhere that wasn’t hundreds of feet underwater.

But it had only gotten stronger.

This was the only way to Lycon.

She sucked in a deep breath. “If he can do it, I can.”

With that, she stepped into the ocean…

She waded and then she swam, her eyes coated with an extra protective layer, one she had never noticed before that allowed her to see under the water. She pushed with her muscles, her blood, his blood coursing through her veins, until finally she saw it.

His sub raider emerged out of a dark, watery cloud, a steal beast. She circled it over and over again, part of her looking for a way in and another part of her gawking at the wonder of it all. Suddenly Lycon seemed so much more desirable. His underwater layer rendered him mysterious and forbidden. This was a place where a person could disappear.

Finally she found it, a latch right on the underbelly. She pulled it, her muscles burning in protest, and watched it open. The water current pushed her into this new compartment. Her eyes flashed wide in alarm, but then she told herself to relax.

Everything was going to be okay.

The essence of him had filled her.

As the latch shut, another smaller compartment opened, allowing the water to drain by vacuum power. Soon enough she was able to touch her feet down onto the ground.

No sooner had all of the water drained than she saw a figure coming through an archway, an opened pipe.

“Lycon,” she sighed.

He shook his head, his stare darker than ever as he approached her. “I couldn’t believe what I was feeling, that you could really be coming for me.”

Emily let out a short laugh. “You saved my life. How could I not?” she said as she took her first step toward him. That empowered her to keep going. She didn’t stop until her body was pressed against his and her arms were wrapped around his neck.

“My actions nearly killed you.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I hunted you for so long. I stalked you and schemed, and yet I never realized how awful it would feel when you ran from me.”

She shook her head, nustling it into his chest. “I didn’t run from you. Believe me, I wanted to come with you. I wanted to…” Then she began to tear up. “Before you saved me…”

“I know.” Lycon took her face in his hands. “Mauve told me of your condition. I wish you felt that you could be honest with me. My goals, my family’s name…all of Kahara is not worth your sacrifice.”

Emily kissed him, her lips dancing with his as a hunger she did not even realize she had been carrying her whole life was finally being satiated. “Now it doesn’t have to be.”

Lycon chuckled, his massive frame shaking with laughter. He kissed her neck and then her shoulder. The small flame in the back of her head became an all-encompassing fire. She clawed at his shirt as he deftly unzipped her wet suit.

He peeled it off her, stopping to marvel at her naked body.

Emily bit her lip, pulling him by the belt loops.

He hoisted her up, her legs straddling him. “Come away with me,” he said.

Emily smiled. “With pleasure.”

And with that, he carried her through the oversized pipes and back into his bedroom.

THE END

Kahara Lords

Book 7

(Can be read as a standalone book)

By: Lindsay Blanc

Captivated by the Alien Lord

Preface

Refinery 29

An Editorial by Lilian Marks.

Tonight I journeyed all the way to the west coast—Seattle to be exact, a city us New Yorkers snobbishly forget exist more often then we’d like to admit.

But I digress.

My first encounter with performance artist Lacey Dane was on a flyer outside a small café on Main Street. It had been taped to a light pole, “Missing Person” style. Normally I wouldn’t stop to read papers on light posts, but this flyer was more than that.

In fact, it wasn’t made of paper at all, but of some amalgam of metals and jewels. The thing glinted in whatever sunlight bled through the heavy bank of clouds. Someone had melded the compact piece to the wood itself, yet that shouldn’t have been possible.

The curves and cuts of every forced substance guided my eye from the top left corner of the piece to the bottom right, taking me on a chaotic journey in between that ended in an address, a date, and a name.

Lacey Danes.

Chapter One

Marak burst through the heavy doors of their brand new conference room. It belonged to the first Kaharan settlement on Earth in eight hundred years. He let the heavy oak door slam behind him as he joined his colleague and old classmate at the center table.

“Glad to see you finally decided to come,” he said as his eyes followed Marak.

Marak sat down across from him, an apologetic grimace on his face. “No need for the sarcasm, Turen,” he said, going right for the map right in front of the both of them. He scanned the curves and jagged edges that represented the dynamic Alaskan country side they had managed to inhabit.

Turen ducked his head. “I’ve been sitting here twenty minutes. I think I’ve earned a little sarcasm.”

Marak let out a dry chuckle. “Twenty minutes isn’t even long enough for a human to finish a meal.”

Turen raised one of his bushy brows. “You have officially spent too much time in that city.”

Marak lifted his eyes from the map. “
That city
has a name: Seattle, and you’ll need to learn these things if you want to be a convincing human.”

Turen rolled his eyes. “Who wants to be a convincing human?”

“We all do…if we want this settlement to survive.”

Turen glanced out the window on the back wall.

Marak followed his gaze, taking in the rolling, snow covered hills and the sun reflecting off of their glistening tops.

Turen shook his head. “It’s a long shot.”

Marak chuckled. “Is that another one you learned from your human girlfriend?”

Turen’s lips folded into an impish grin. “She isn’t my girlfriend, just the governor’s secretary…and I haven’t seen her since the commander came down and fixated him.”

Marak stifled a groan. “Don’t remind me. It’s been almost five weeks since he gave us this land, and I still don’t have a single idea for town hall.”

Turen grimaced. “Is it really that serious? Just use some Roman columns. The humans love those.”

Marak shook his head, staring intently at nothing in particular. “No. No, it’s gotta be more than that. I want something that will camouflage us, of course…but I also want something more. When the others are ready to settle, I want them to be reminded of home. I want them to adopt this place as their own. They have to. It’s the only chance we have at surviving.”

Turen nodded and then glanced at his watch. “Well that’s all the time we have for our
progress
report.”

Marak shrugged as he stood up. “I have been surveying. There’s no one else around here. And you know about town hall.”

Turen frowned, nodding. “And I’m still working on a pipeline to get water in and out without it freezing in the process.” He paused, glancing back at the map. “It’s no wonder no one lives this far north.”

“Well, it looks like neither of us have made any progress,” Marak said, his hand on the door. “I doubt we even needed the full thirty minutes.”

Turen chuckled. “Are you kidding? I love waiting for you.”

Marak opened the door. “I hope you’re right.”

***

After another hour of staring at a blank grid of paper, Marak decided he could get nothing done in a place where the nearest real source of inspiration was a hundred miles away. So, he jumped into the jet Turen had modeled and had named Trump 2.0 after some American billionaire.

He flew it across the Alaskan border, over Canada and into Washington. He landed in a small airport for private flyers, showed the taxi his fake American ID, and retrieved the Volvo he had left there the last time he had made an impromptu urban excursion.

He frowned as he pulled his car into a parking garage and stepped out into the drizzles. He longed for the days of the Kaharan sun high in the sky, the breeze frigid but dry. He longed for a lot of things, but it was less than prudent to wish for things he knew he would never have again.

He raised an eyebrow at the city hall building. From across the street, and through the blanket of clouds, Malak could see the fifty micro-steps that led up to the glass doors, the mix of steel, glass, white brick, and stucco that made up the rest of the building, and the sharp corners and edges that grounded it in space. It looked more like a villain’s layer or a modern museum than the place where the mayor held office.

As he got closer, he noticed someone sitting on the top steps. Her lion’s mane of hair flowed down her shoulders and back. When he was within hearing distance, he saw that she was eating an ice cream cone…outside…in the rain.

“That’s an interesting choice for a snack.” He stood close enough to smell the soft scent of cigarette smoke emanating from her hair. 

She glanced up at him: a flick of her eye, a snap of her head. It was so quick, Marak forgot she was human, only for a second. But then he saw her eyes. More gold than pupil, they practically glistened from the inside out.

“Ice cream is the best thing to happen to us since fire,” she said, her smokey voice wrapped in an accent he had never heard before.

Marak laughed at this. “I’ll have to disagree with you on that.”

A drop of it landed on one of the four rings on her right hand. She twisted her wrist and licked it off, expertly drawing her lips back to prevent the dark red lipstick from landing on the back of her hand. “Now, what could be better than ice cream?” A mischievous grin stretched across her face.

Marak raised an eyebrow. “The wheel?”

“You’re an architect, aren’t you?” She stood up.

Marak raised an eyebrow.  “How could you know that?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. That grid pad in your hand…” She cocked her head to the side, thinking. “No. It’s the sweater.”

Marak furrowed his brow. “What is it about the sweater?”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him. “It’s too nice. You wouldn’t be coming here in a thing like that unless you were trying to building something, or tear it down.”

“Do I detect disdain?”

She bit her plump bottom lip, looking away in embarrassment. “Oh no! My liberal is showing.”

Marak raised both of his eyebrows. “So I’m a conservative, too?”

She took the last big bite of her cone, chomping down on it while she wiped her hands on a paper towel.  “It’s the sweater,” she said, her voice dripping with humor.

Before Marak could think of anything remotely funny enough to retaliate with, she slipped something out of her leather messenger bag.

“Here,” she said.

He examined the piece of…well, he didn’t know what to call the six inch by six inch slab of metals, jewels, and cloth. He gazed at it, the piece daring him to decipher it. He wanted to ask her to explain, but by the time he looked up again, she had already reached the bottom of the stairs. She ran across the street.

The thought of following her did cross his mind, but by the time he had run his calculus, she had already disappeared all together. He glanced back at the piece of metal.

On the bottom right corner was an address, today’s date, and a name: Lacey Dane.