Alien Mine (14 page)

Zacar pressing his warm naked body against hers.

She'd slept in bed with Zacar. Naked.

Tingles of pleasure raced over her skin when she thought of the way his fingers had caressed every inch of her body as he rubbed it with the healing salve. Last night, for the first time in her life, she'd felt like the most desired woman on Earth.

Apparently, she'd been on this mountain too long if it took an alien to make her feel like a woman.

Her lungs burned and she took her inhaler out of the chest, along with a fresh set of clothes. She stilled, with the inhaler poised in front of her mouth. Other than needing it during her arduous climb out of the valley the day before, she hadn't needed it much lately. Before she'd met Zacar, she had to use it almost daily, but now she didn't feel a tenth as sick as she used to. If this kept up, perhaps she could make her stash of inhalers last longer. She didn't know what she'd do when she ran out. With the mountain snowed in, she had no way of getting more. She shivered, the image of her mother gasping for breath flashing before her.

Depressing the pump twice, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. About to slip the inhaler back into the chest, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she stilled. Someone was watching her. She turned slowly to find the scarred alien looking straight at her through the sheer plastic door of the tent. Then he glanced pointedly at the inhaler in her hand.

Twice now he'd caught her using her inhaler. Did he somehow know what it was, that she was weak, and despised her for it?

Gathering her robe tighter around herself, she lifted her head, tossing her hair in a defiant gesture, and stuck her hands into her pockets to hide their trembling.

After a moment, he turned and left.

I need to do something about my lack of privacy.
Living by herself for so long, the clear plastic door of her tent had never before been an issue.

Eyeing the door warily, she hastily dressed then sat down on her bed, chewing her thumbnail. When half an hour passed, without Zacar storming in to kill her for being weak, she relaxed slightly.

The cave outside the tent had been quiet for some time, and from what she could see through the door, it seemed empty of aliens. Natalie wanted to continue with her preparations for winter but feared a repeat of yesterday. She felt like a child who'd been grounded for misbehaving, but she didn't want to risk leaving the tent and angering Zacar.

Despising her own cowardice, she stood and walked out of the tent, eyeing the growing pile of equipment.

They really are planning to stay here forever, aren't they
?

And what had Zacar meant when he called her a breeder?

She shivered, and not entirely from fear. She had a very good idea what he planned to do with her, but surely he didn't expect her to sit around doing nothing while waiting for him to come home each day. In the end, she decided to continue with her normal routine as if they'd never invaded her home.

She was preparing more jars for canning in the kitchen area when the aliens trooped in at dusk. Zacar homed in on her immediately. Natalie's whole body tingled, remembering his hands rubbing salve over her naked flesh, and she could feel the burn spreading from the top of her head to her toes. She kept her back to him, hoping he wouldn't notice.

What did he think of her? Was he as drawn to her naked body as she'd been to his? What did Zyrgins find pleasing in a woman?

Standing at the kitchen table, she wrung her hands. Why was she even worrying about it? Why should she care if a stubborn alien found her attractive or not?

Sneaking a quick glance at Zacar, she lowered her head again, her face flaming at the memories of last night.

He walked over to her and lifted her face, crooking a finger under her chin.

Chapter 8

Frozen, Natalie stared up at him, not sure how to react. He bent down and gentle pressed his head against hers, the raised ridge on his forehead pressing into hers. His skin was so warm he almost burned her. His spice and pine scent wafted into her nostrils.

Was she supposed to move her forehead or something? He'd done this before, but after the intimacies they'd shared last night, she was aware of every muscled inch of him standing over her. His red eyes stared so deep he penetrated her innermost soul.

Just as suddenly, he released her, turned, and growled orders at the others. She was vaguely aware that the young one had disappeared. Zacar lifted her face with the heel of his hand and, bending down, rubbed his face over her neck. When he scraped his teeth over the veins he found there, she whimpered. He stepped back before she could do more than gasp in alarm.

Frantically, she searched her brain for something that would distract his teeth from her neck. "I made some stew--if you want to join me." The words sounded as hollow as the cave they stood in, echoing her uncertainty and fear. She ignored the chills breaking out over her whole body.

"No human food. Eat warrior food."

She was getting used to his face showing no expression, none that she could read anyway. But if she paid careful attention to the tone of his growls, she could glean quite a bit.

The young alien returned with four silver stools, which he set around the table. When he passed too close to her, Zacar growled and the poor young warrior quickly moved away. He walked over to the crates they'd stacked earlier, returned with a cylindrical metal container, and dumped a revolting, slimy-green mess into each of their plates. She shuddered and quickly filled her plate with the stew she'd made. Even if her life depended on it, she wouldn't eat their green...whatever it was.

The kettle on the stove whistled. The four aliens half rose from their stools, looking ready for battle.

"W--would any of you like some coffee?" she stammered, afraid they'd kill her kettle.

"No," Zacar responded for all of them. He advanced on her and she moved to keep the table between them.

Moving with a grace and precision she envied, Zacar seated her then sat facing her. Too close to her. Close enough for her to glance up and see the veins pulsing in his jaw, his imposing figure towering next to her.

She had a bad premonition when he picked up her fork. Looking at it for a moment, he stuck it into the stew then regarded the meat with what she could only describe as suspicion. He put a finger over the small helping on the fork with intense concentration, squashing the meat, then held the fork against her lips. It took her a moment to figure out he'd been testing the temperature.

"I really prefer to feed myself," she said barely moving her lips, in case he tried to shove the fork into her mouth while she talked.

"Zacar..." he said then seemed to search for words. "Zacar feed breeder."

Looking at the squashed vegetables on her fork, she was tempted to tell him she didn't want to eat anything his finger had been on. Still too scared of him to resist, she reluctantly parted her lips. He gently put the fork into her mouth, taking in every slight move she made. Everything around them faded, until only the compelling alien in front of her registered.

He scooped up the next forkful and she gripped his arm to stop him. Muscles of flexible steel moved under her hand. Swallowing, she jerked her hand away and motioned to his food.

"Why don't you eat your food before it gets cold? I really don't mind feeding myself." It would also put a stop to this strange intimacy causing all kinds of forbidden reactions in her body.

With a roar, he jumped up, grabbed her close, and snarled what sounded like threats in his alien language into her terrified face. Too scared to do anything but tremble, she cringed as far back as the cage of his arms allowed. At last, he came to the end of his tirade and shook her softly. His voice was pure gravel when he continued. "Have omgraz'ra. Feed my breeder."

"O--omgraz?" she asked, her voice faint.

"Omgraz'ra. Honor."

She curled her lip. He might roar about honor, but she saw no honor in killing babies and calling a helpless woman a breeder.

"Well, it's not an honor to me." Her words probably would've had more impact if she hadn't mumbled them.
Coward
, she screamed in her head.

He leaned right down in her face. "Breeder."

Suddenly, she snapped. She'd had enough. First raiders then an alien and snow, then more aliens, hypothermia and almost frostbite.

She stood on her toes and glared at him. "You can call me by my name, or even
hey you
, but if you call me
breeder
one more time, I will sock you." She punctuated each word by tapping her index finger against his rock hard chest. It hurt, but she didn't care. It felt good to let him have it for once.

He dipped his head in an almost curious gesture and looked at her finger tapping his chest.

Her fury evaporated, and Natalie withdrew her hand. Was she crazy, arguing with an alien that held her life in his vicious claws?

"Breeder name honor," he said with exactly the same inflection he'd used earlier.

Natalie clenched her teeth until she thought her molars would reach her tonsils. It was like talking to a machine that just never stopped. "On Earth, it's not an honor. Please stop calling me that." She hated the cajoling note in her voice.

"No." He leaned forward, into her face. Intimidating her, invading her space with his thighs burning against hers, his shoulders cut off the light one of the other aliens had installed.

Natalie grabbed her hair and tugged viciously. "What's wrong with you? At least try and understand my point of view."

"Zacar feed Natlia." He took her hands out of her hair, and smoothed the long brown strands back in place.

Natalie slumped forward, her forehead thumping against his chest, and she moaned in despair. Machine. He was one hundred percent machine. If she cut him, surely oil would bleed out.

His rough paw tipped her chin up while he glared down at her. "No make sounds at me. I feed you now," he said, seated her and himself, then took up the fork again.

She blushed when she noticed the other three aliens were waiting until Zacar fed her before eating their green slop. The way the scarred one pointedly stared at her sent shivers down her spine. And not the kind she got when Zacar looked at her. She'd have to make a point never to allow that one to catch her alone.

At last, her meal was over. She quickly grabbed her glass of water and gulped it down. Sitting back, she smirked at him. He stared at her, but didn't try to stop her. He just ate his food in a few neat swallows before drinking something from a metal cup.

"Time for...plant."

"What plant?" she asked in confusion.

"Plant in head," he said, while touching her temple.

"Uh, do you mean an implant?"

Wait, did he mean he was going to put an implant in her? Natalie got that insect-encased-in-glue feeling again and inched back from him. She held her hand up palm out. "Stay back."

"Will not hurt Natlia." With exquisite predatory grace, he walked to the chest where she kept the TC and picked up something. When he turned, she saw he held two small round metal objects that looked vaguely rubbery in the palm of his hand.

"What is that?"
He is joking, right
? He had to be. There was no way he was actually planning to put those things inside her head. Did he want to control her or something?

"You would say..." He searched for a word. "...track."

She jumped up and held her hands out, in a blocking gesture, in front of her. "A tracking device? Oh, hell no! You're not tagging me like I'm some animal, the way they used to do."

"This also learn you speak. Help understand."

She shook her head vigorously, taking a few more steps back from him. His English was improving daily. There was no need for her to learn
Alien
via an implant.

"Where exactly would you want to implant that?" Careful to appear casual, she inched back. What if he turned her into a mindless idiot like in that ancient
Stepford Wives
movie they showed on the cell last month? "How does it work?" Hoping he didn't recognize her interest as false, she took another small step toward the back of the cave.

"I put against head. Learns brain." He held the two patches against his temple to demonstrate.

She could see his mouth move, but heard no sound. Her vision started to close around her until she saw him through a dark tunnel. All sound receded.

No, I can't faint.
If she fainted, she might wake up with who knew what in her brain. Determined not to succumb to the panic threatening to overtake her, she forced deep breaths through her lungs.

"No--way." Nothing was going to be wired to her brain, especially not some alien gadget.

"No need fear," he said. His attempt at being reassuring failed miserably. He advanced on her, pressing a few buttons on a small box-like thing he also held in his hands.

Was that some kind of remote control? Was he programming those patches?

"Maybe we should talk about this. For all we know, your technology will fry my brain if you try to put it in me."

"Work," he said, almost casually.

She ran.

Right now, she was really motivated to outrun anyone, even someone with his speed. Before she could blink, he had her immobilized against him, with his arm clamped against her back. She looked up at him and blinked away tears. Why? He'd saved her from hypothermia, fed her so carefully. Why was he doing this?

Cradling the back of her head gently in his palm, he pressed the devices against her temples and she sobbed openly. She cringed away from him when he pointed the small boxlike thing in his hand at her.

"Please Zacar, don't do this."

"It helps you," he said.

It was strange to see alarm on Zacar's face. She'd thought their facial muscles incapable of showing expression.

Everything turned fuzzy, her body suddenly so heavy she couldn't stop her boneless slump.

***

Zacar grabbed his breeder before she could hit the floor and shouted commands to Viglar and the others. They'd tested this. Made sure it wouldn't harm her. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"What happened," Viglar asked in his usual calm voice.

"She fainted when I calibrated the implant. You assured me the tests were conclusive. That she couldn't be harmed by our technology."