My heels went bang, bang, bang on the wooden planks. My arms pumped like I ran a hundred metre sprint. I hurled knickknacks behind me. I knocked over side tables, stacked books and floor lamps.
Flashing shark teeth, the intruder batted them aside without a hitch in stride.
Cristina’s back arched and twisted. Her arms and legs stretched akimbo to wedge herself into the bust frame of the front door. She swore with enough rancour to strip paint. ‘Mother fucking asshole get your goddamned hands off me.’
The hulk behind her growled as it wrangled her into submission.
Hazel eyes locked on mine then shifted over my shoulder. They widened. ‘Behind you!’ Her captor caught her off guard. He jerked her forward and unhooked her from the door to spirit her away.
‘Cristina!’
No, no, no.
The titan behind me loosed a guttural, clicking snarl.
I grabbed the varnished curve of my banister and used it to help my legs propel my body up the winding stairs. My skirt split at the thigh as I took the carpeted steps two at a time, breathing hard with each lunge.
I envisioned my escape as I powered upward. I planned to zip along the second-floor hallway, and down what used to be the servant stairway. Then I’d leave out the tradesman’s entrance to meet up with Babi. If I managed it, then I’d figure out way to steal Cristina back. A solid plan.
Except my pursuer charged, gripped the banister and ripped the whole fucking thing from its support beams.
Dust, fragments of plasterboard and paint shards burst into the air. The tread beneath me disappeared.
No, I’m there.
I threw my weight forward. I crashed onto an apothecary chest from Chennai brought to England in the eighteen hundreds. A cultural antique. The first thing I’d bought when I moved into my house. I glared at the shattered wood beneath me.
Glasses cracked and askew, I ripped them off my face, pissed beyond belief.
There was a monster in my home stealing my friends and breaking my shit.
My grandmother’s ugly crystal vase rolled amongst the splinters. Water and daffodils spilled across the chequered tiles.
I hefted it and myself up.
The monster leapt from the ground floor and landed like a kalari fighter.
I rocked back and threw the vase. Missed. A statuette of Ganesh toppled from a shelf into my groping palm.
I hurled that too.
It dodged.
The figurine sailed out the window in a shower of glass.
I kicked off my shoes and aimed them at it.
One spun off.
The other thumped against its chest.
Half crazed, I spun to fling myself out the window, feverishly convincing myself I could survive the fall.
Grabbed by the collar, it plucked me off the ground, flipped me onto its shoulder, and then it moved. It used its free arm to vault out the window. I screamed. We somersaulted midair, and it landed crouched on my front patio. Paving buckled, cracked into a rumpled spiderweb.
I stared, speechless, and then started kicking my legs. ‘Let me go, you monster.’ I pounded on its back–like punching concrete.
There was a flurry of movement to the side. ‘Let her go.’ Babi thunked it over its ridged, bald head with his gardening spade.
Uttering a menacing sound past a hard-lipped mouth, the alien whipped around, raising its fist. Energy snapped between its fingers.
What the hell was it?
‘Babi run.’
Before the monster struck, my grandfather clawed at his chest, twisting his cardigan. His face bleached bone-white.
Mouth sagging, he flailed a hand, eyes glassy with fear-filled knowing. ‘I-Indira…..’
‘No.’ I fought to get free, to get to him. ‘He’s having a heart attack. Let me go. Call an ambulance. Help! Somebody help.’ My shrieks joined the anguished cries of a dozen others as the alien stepped onto the chaotic street. It prowled towards a sleek vessel that ripped up the tarmac.
My grandfather dropped the spade and keeled over, crumpling to the paving in slow motion. The rose bushes hid his body, his sock-covered toes just in view.
No one would find him before it was too late.
Where was Cristina?
Why is this happening?
Tears warped my view.
The unmoving foot shrank into the distance. ‘Help.’ The commotion drowned my croak. ‘Oh, God, please, help us. Hel–’
Something needle-thin pricked my thigh.
Darkness.
3
Indira
I woke, flipped onto my side and retched. My throat burned, tongue curling against the roof of my mouth at the taste of sour bile. I rolled onto my back then sat up. Pain streaked across my forehead. I lifted a trembling arm to run a finger over the throbbing above my temple. The skin was unbroken.
I gave it a cautious press.
A spike lanced through my brain and my body clenched.
Everything flooded back.
Cristina’s screams.
My grandfather’s terrified expression as he clutched his chest, life fading from his eyes.
It had to be a dream.
A detached calm washed over me and dimmed my gibbering panic.
I’m going into shock.
Shivering and breaking out in gooseflesh, I chafed my arms with my hands to generate some heat.
My nipples tightened in the open air.
I startled, gaze angled down my front to my bare breasts, belly and thighs.
A contraption wrapped around my privates. Flat metal plates conformed to the flare of my hips like a second skin, a palm-sized sheet cupping my pussy. The underside of the gusset felt slick like silicone. The edges thinned until they melted into the skin of my nether lips, and there was no way to pry a finger underneath, no way to remove it and allow access to the sensitive tissue it guarded. I shifted, sliding my fingers backwards. Twisted metal fibres pressed between my ass cheeks. I tried to yank the strip to the side. No give. Legs spreading, I curled over, getting a better look at what someone strapped me into.
It’s a chastity belt.
I shoved aside thoughts of who put me into it.
My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and I stopped squinting at a bump no bigger than my thumb that protruded from the front of the contraption. Situated over my clitoris, its location gave me a moment’s pause. My exploration included a process of elimination, and I had to take the risk. I pressed it, cringing. I relaxed with a sigh when nothing happened.
I shrugged, pulled it, and an explosion flattened me.
Rapture and pain swallowed me as I seized with convulsions. When the last of the gut-churning passed, I returned to my body in increments.
Limbs boneless, my muscles twitched. I lay panting. Sweat rolled down my pounding temples, my head stuffed with cotton wool.
I took care not to make sudden movements as I sat up and stared between my legs.
Pussy flush with heat, my clit throbbed as if possessing a heartbeat. It was a maddening feeling I sensed wouldn’t abate until I orgasmed.
Hysteria welled within me until it released as a whine. I jolted at the shrill sound, slapping a hand over my mouth. I kept it there until the skittering under my skin eased. ‘Oh, God.’ I dropped an arm to my middle to hold it. ‘This is not good.’ Dead air muted the thin tremble of my voice. I shifted my legs, but froze at the tinny rattle down by my feet.
I jerked forward and my hands scrabbled down my shin. My fingers slipped over icy metal slick like glass. I whimpered. ‘No.’ I followed the manacle to a slinky rope that ended in a fist-sized metallic ball. ‘No, no, no.’
My hands roamed its seamless plane.
It didn’t appear heavy enough to anchor me, but when I tried to lift it, it didn’t budge. I slid my hand under it unimpeded. It confused me. I thought there must be bolts securing it, but the bottom curve of the sphere floated above the smooth floor.
I sat back and spent some time straining aga
inst the chain. I failed to even loosen the links. Releasing it, I focused on the rush of air into my lungs and their expansion. I took note of how my chest deflated as the breath left me.
The meditative exercise continued until each inhalation and exhalation came easy.
Staying calm was vital.
I’d witnessed how emotional strain sped up a victim’s death. They stopped making sensible decisions.
I would not let that be me. I needed to get it together. I needed to explore my vicinity.
I need to escape.
My needs stacked a mountain high and destabilised my hard won calm. I rewound to a more peaceful state. I slipped my body into lotus pose, eyes closed and hands loose on my knees. I regained equilibrium.
A dozen smaller steps needed to happen before thoughts of freedom.
I had no injuries.
I was uncomfortable with my nudity, yes. Fighting the distracting throb of my pussy, true. But not wounded. This was a good thing. It meant I could defend myself or run at an opportune moment.
Naked and chained in a cell suggested my status was a low-level prisoner. I would be fed and watered. It was cold in my cell, but not freezing. I would not die of hypothermia. I inhaled, my chest and belly flexing. A perfect balance of breathable gasses.
Even the gravity felt the exact same as on Earth.
Think horses not zebras.
Memories of blue flesh and all-white eyes stopped me from latching onto a more reasonable explanation than alien abduction. It would have been nothing but a poor attempt to fool myself.
It wasn’t a dream.
These were not the sex profiteers I read about in classified reports and online news blogs. Evil people who snatched innocent women and sold them into sexual slavery.
This was bigger than that.
Denial wouldn’t help.
I placed my hand on the floor. A faint hum from an engine met my palm.
‘I’ve been kidnapped by aliens.’ It sounded unreal.
Speaking into the silence didn’t make the enormity of the situation less daunting.
Why had they taken me?
Eyes popping open, I choked on acrid laughter.
I knew why.
My pitiful scrap of attire chafed on so many levels. The impingement on my civil rights. The disrespect to me as a woman. The sodding bare-arsed audacity of it.
Hot in the face, I blew out a breath. I was getting myself worked up. My biggest failure with meditation was my lack of tranquillity. ‘Remain in the present.’ I chanted my affirmations as a way to soothe my inner bitch. She was seriously worked up. ‘Consider the challenges before you.’
Fidgety, I struggled to focus. The word ‘rape’ polluted the back of my mind like a boggy stink.
‘How might you survive them and return home to Babi?’ My thoughts splintered.
Stunned and breathless, I hunched as the realisation stabbed me anew.
I’d forgotten he died.
I dug my fingernails into my knees until I drew blood. The pressure of the pain inside in chest eased.
If God existed and deep down–despite my everyday lack of faith–I believed it did, my grandfather was one with the universe, his essence free.
It would have disappointed him to see me give up.
I straightened and wiped my cheeks. ‘Aliens kidnapped me. I’m aboard their spacecraft.’ Wasn’t a self-defence basic not to get taken to a secondary location? ‘Rescue is unlikely.’ My voice lowered, subdued. ‘I’m on my own.’
My bottom lip trembled.
Was I alone?
Cristina.
I thought of my talented best friend. The one who mailed glitter-bombed cards of kittens in sweaters during the holiday season. She who sat in my kitchen twisting her braids into Bantu knots and crooning along to Amy Winehouse. The one who couldn’t pass a homeless person without getting up in their business. I imagined her naked and chained.
I recalled her as I’d seen her last; hauled off by the middle, legs kicking, terrified.
I shuddered.
Was she in her own cell?
‘Cristina?’ I shouted.
The steady hum emanated from all around.
All three corners of the room were solid black. It created the illusion the space was bigger than the distance my shout had travelled.
Using my hands, I brushed my fingers across the rubbery floor in increasing circles. I leaned side to side as my hands swept back and forth. My fingers smacked into a wall. I slid across the floor on my ass until the length of my arm pressed against it.
The chain had plenty of slack. I used the solidness of the wall to stand. The muscles in my legs screamed. I scowled. I was in decent shape. Flexible and limber from practicing Kundalini yoga with Cristina, yet my joints ached. I must have been unconscious longer than I’d assumed.
Stretching, I kneaded at a cramp in my lower back. I made my way around my cell.
The ball remained fixed in the middle regardless of how hard I tugged with my leg.
The surface of the wall under my palms was cold and without joins. I went onto my toes every other step to reach as high as I could.
I knocked on the wall. Hollow. The material was unknown to me, a cross between rubber and silicone. It looked tough. I punched it and then shook out my fist. Yup. That sucker was solid.
It was then I noticed it.
I stared at my hand, flipped it over to look at my palm. I gave the same inspection to the other one.
‘No,’ I breathed.
Three days ago, I’d attended a mehndi party. While I helped distract the bride, my niece drew intricate designs with henna paste onto my hands. Suns covered my palms. The symbols wishing luck, fertility, and prosperity to the bride ran along my fingers and crawled across the backs of my hands. It took over an hour to apply it all. The marks stained well on my skin, a dark brown that contrasted against my creamy coffee.
The mehndi had vanished.
It took three weeks of washing and exfoliation for henna to fade.
But they were gone.
How bloody long was I unconscious?
Shaken, freaked the hell out, I circled the room again. I moved slower, gliding my fingertips. They skimmed to feel for an irregularity or an air draft that might signal an exit. Another pass of the room supported my initial findings.
There were no doors and no windows. Had I been deconstructed into molecules then transported in?
‘There has to be something.’
Colder air drifted down, but there were no vents or ledges. A faint illumination came from high above. I jumped trying to touch the ceiling. It was too high. Dropping to my knees, I repeated the process I’d used on the wall along the floor to look for a hatch that might slide flush. Nothing, but a grate set off the centre of the room, its purpose unclear. I ducked my head to smell. A musty aroma that made me think of wetted, mineralised soil wafted into my face. I considered sticking my hand down. Yeah, right. I had a vision of withdrawing a stump.
I sagged. I drew my knees to my chest to think. There was nothing in the room I could use to gain a further understanding of what had happened. There was no getting out until someone–something–came for me.
Shivers ran down my spine, gooseflesh breaking out over my arms and nape.
Recalling a documentary about survival in the wilderness, I wrapped my arms around my chest. It would keep my core body temperature up. I drew my knees closer towards my torso and hunched over.
Survival rates for kidnapping victims plummeted after the first twenty-four hours.
You’ve been gone longer than that.
If anybody came for me, unlikely considering my last interaction with my boss, my abductors didn’t want money.
What should I do?
Being realistic, what could I do? I grew unaware of how long I sat there fighting the creeping helplessness.
The far wall cracked, and red light bordered a tall triangle. It swooshed to the side and revealed an amorphous silhouette.
>
Scuttling back, I wedged myself into the corner. My chest bucked with my shallow breaths. At first glance, all my mind could process was the gigantism of the whole.
Blue flesh, all-white eyes.
It’s not human.
‘Lower its gaze,’ commanded a biting voice.
Startled, I lifted said gaze.
Large oval eyes were mirrors lit by the sun. Luminescence within a hawkish face. The raging glare that met my rounded eyes seared me deep enough that my lungs burned.
I was too afraid to move.
Too afraid to blink while caught in the snare of such incandescent fury.
I twisted my face away, taking a moment to piece myself together and manage a coherent thought.
It’s a demon, a devil.
It was Rakshasa, a beast come to devour me.
Buckling under my crazed thoughts, I sucked a breath past clenched teeth. This wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. I had to get a grip.
I turned back and concentrated on its head.
Its scalp was bald, ridged in vertical lines from forehead to nape, as if it had raised skin. The tips of its ears spiked, and so did its lobes, giving its skull a sleek appearance. My gaze lingered on those pointed arcs of flesh before moving down its body. Thick neck. Wide shoulders. Shaped like a human, the swells and dips of its musculature hinted at a skeleton designed to move in a manner different from what I understood. No human would ever be mistaken for it. Its abdominals looked fake, like the metal cutouts centurions had worn as battle-dress. Three columns lined a stretched torso with four rows from beneath broad pectorals to narrow hipbones.
Curls of scent, pepper and anise mixed with spiced oranges and an underlying musk, tickled my nose.
The fading pulse between my legs bloomed into a heavy ache. Fighting to keep my expression neutral, I ignored the inappropriate reaction.
He strode closer.
My attention shifted to its lower body.
Mouth drying, my eyes skidded over a codpiece dangling between muscular thighs.
Pale leather strained at the seams, yet my two balled fists would snuggle into it with room to spare. The evidence of its gender had my pulse tripping.
A male, then.
The starkest difference between us, the one that left me dazed, was the shade and texture of his skin.
Bhyr: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 3) Page 3