Three years ago, I’d graduated from NYU with a double major in Communications and Political Science. My intention had been to become the United States Ambassador to the UN, and I’d even managed to secure an internship there. Acquiring such a prestigious position was far from easy, though, so when the astronauts returned from their resources mission with knowledge of alien life, the title of Ambassador of Alien Relations was created and I was offered the job on a reference from my superiors at the UN.
If I’d known I was going to be coming face-to-face with the leader of the race that was slaying mankind around the world, I might not have been so eager to take the position.
Sighing heavily, I turned to my computer. I needed to prepare for this meeting. Various meetings between political powers, military authorities, and NASA officers had led to the same conclusion: we needed to establish a treaty of peaceful co-existence with the A’li-uud. Our numbers outranked theirs in great multitudes, but they were lethal fighters, and we didn’t know what kind of technology they possessed at their home base. It was possible they had the capability to wipe out our entire planet in one fell swoop, and we weren’t willing to take the risk of believing otherwise. The sheer havoc they’d wreaked in the few short months they’d been here was proof enough that they were not a force to tangle with, at least not until we were much better prepared.
So, discussion of peace was going to be the primary topic of discussion with the leader. However, it was critical I learned everything, from their motivation for attacking Earth to their reasons for allowing our astronauts to return home. The smallest piece of information could be the key we needed to understand them and protect ourselves. I felt wholly unprepared for the task, and, more than that, I was worried I would miss something important and jeopardize the entire existence of humanity.
It was a weight I’d never expected to have on my shoulders, but it was one I would carry as far as I could.
My door opened without a knock, and Madeleine burst in with wide eyes and her mousy hair flying out behind her. “Did you hear?” she demanded breathlessly. “They’ve caught the leader! It’s all over the news!”
“It is?” I asked, stunned. I couldn’t believe the military would have released such information yet, and for it to be so widely broadcasted already was even more surprising. Then again, the news was no longer about crimes, press conferences, sports shut-outs, and feel-good stories featuring animals learning Morse Code and such. Every station was focused on nothing but the A’li-uud. Helicopter footage of tall, muscular creatures with skin in varying shades of blue destroying whole cities was interrupted only by world leaders and political representatives around the globe making statements about current conditions and plans of rescue. Occasionally, there’d be an interview with a citizen of some decimated town recounting the aliens’ destruction and the horrors they’d seen. Turning on the TV now was like reading a book about the Holocaust: bleak, depressing, and incomprehensible.
“Is that why General Morgan was here?” Madeleine pressed. Even in her frantic state, her need to be in the loop was evident in her urgent expression.
“Yes,” I said, deciding to indulge her nosiness. “I’m to meet with the leader in a few hours.”
“Oh my God.” She clutched her cheeks in her hands, her nails digging into her flesh, leaving slight divots behind. Her eyes were still wide, and I detected a hint of sympathy in them. “Are you scared?”
I wanted to tell her I wasn’t. I wanted to say that this was my job and I was well-protected here. I wanted to be the strong, confident woman the Ambassador was supposed to be.
But I wasn’t.
“I’m terrified,” I admitted a little sheepishly.
She nodded slowly. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment or disdain on her face. On the contrary, she reflected the confidence I was supposed to have back at me. Her hands fell to her hips, and she jutted one hip out with cocky spunk. “Good. If you weren’t, I’d think you were stupid, and the last thing we need is a stupid person doing the talks with the aliens.”
It was a perspective I hadn’t considered before. Perhaps my fear was an asset, not a hindrance. If someone like General Morgan were to perform the interview, we’d probably end up in an even bigger and deadlier war than we were in now because he’d only succeed in pissing the A’li-uud off. Maybe my fear was the advantage we needed.
I certainly hoped so.
5
Dane
Even though massive floor-to-ceiling windows lined an entire wall and there was light, cream-colored décor sprinkled around the space, the room felt as confining as a dungeon. I’d spent my life in open space, roaming the mountains of Montemba as a young A’li-uud with Duke, working on tree farms for wood harvests when I was a little older, and finally joining the ranks of Montemban warriors to train in the wide, unsheltered arenas from dusk until dawn. Traveling in the ship to Earth had been a level of restricted space I’d never experienced before—and, frankly, one I never wanted to experience again—but I would have gladly traded sitting in the deceptively suffocating room for another spaceship journey.
When we’d finally reached our destination, and the humans wrenched us out of the truck, I was fairly certain I’d been brought back to New York City. Only a few short months before, when Duke still reigned as Elder, I’d been captured with a handful of other warriors by American military personnel and held hostage in one of the many sky-reaching buildings. It was safe to assume they’d intended to hold us there temporarily until finding more permanent and secure prisons for us, but Duke and his new human lover had shown up and freed us before we were moved or killed.
This time, I was not joined in the room by my captured comrades. As soon as the five of us were removed from the truck, the soldiers had released me from the binds that joined me to Lokos. Two had pulled me aside while the rest guarded my warriors and linked Lokos’ chains to the three remaining warriors. I expected to be connected to the group next, but I was wrong. The two humans who had hold of my arms and pointed guns at me with their free hands started shoving me toward the great glass doors that opened into the skyscraper as my warriors were thrust back into the truck.
“No!” Lokos cried in English, his large eyes growing larger as he realized we were to be separated. He shoved his heels into the concrete beneath his feet and tried to steel himself against the forceful pushes of the soldiers, but his balance was off-kilter due to the adjoining shackles on his ankles, and he stumbled. If Silah’s beefy shoulder hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have fallen face-down on the street.
“Control yourself, alien!” barked the same human who’d snapped at us from the front seat of the truck.
I ground my own heels in an attempt to prevent the separation, but to no avail. The butt of a gun cracked into my shoulder blade, knocking me forward and sending a searing pain down my arm. All of my warriors let out angry snarls of rage.
“Do not provoke them,” I hissed over my shoulder to my men in A’li-uud. “Remember Ki’lok.”
The butt of the gun met my shoulder blade again, this time with enough force to make me stumble, but I ignored the unspoken order for silence.
“They need me for intel. I will not be harmed, at least not yet,” I continued, my voice growing louder as the distance between us became greater.
“Shut up!” the human jamming me shouted.
“Do what you must to stay alive, but do not put yourselves at unnecessary risk. Stay together, if you can. There is strength in numbers.”
The last syllable of my command was cut short by a sudden kick to the back of my knee, and I was sent crumpling to the sidewalk. My hands were still restrained behind my back, leaving me unable to catch myself before I landed, so my nose and chin were the first to hit the ground. Pain shot through the center of my face in a bolt of agony. I wanted to cry out from the shock of it, but I refused to give them the satisfaction and remained steadfastly silent. They heaved me back up to my feet by my underarms and thrust me throug
h the glass doors as my warriors were returned to the inside of the truck.
Now I found myself sitting alone in a room with my wrists and ankles chained together, the chains also attached to the chair upon which I sat and the long table before me. There wasn’t much to look at in the space, but everything I saw was unnervingly muted. The table was made of a strange wood with unnaturally straight grain and a dull crimson undertone that gave the structure the illusion of being blood-soaked. Artwork hung on the walls depicting various waterscapes, but their steely colors reminded me more of memories than of paintings in their vagueness. Even the view outside the wall-sized windows was strange: gray and slightly hazy. It was a far cry from the vivid azure sky with luscious lavender curls that stretched over Albaterra.
The lone door that separated me from the rest of the world opened. Stillness resumed for a beat, and then a woman entered.
There was nothing muted about this woman at all.
Long tendrils of smoky black hair tumbled from her head to her chest, coming to rest on the soft curves of her breasts. The flowing tresses framed a dainty, heart-shaped face of perfect porcelain smoothness. Her eyes were so wide that she seemed blessed with perpetual innocence, but there was a sultry curve to her lashes that made me salivate. I was instantly reminded of the foliage in the Albaterran rainforests as I noticed the depth of her emerald irises, and a sudden bout of homesickness gripped me by the chest. Her smart blouse and unassuming skirt hugged a voluptuous figure of such femininity that I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek just to keep myself under control.
It had been a very long time since I’d been with the fairer sex, six months at the least, and this woman was like a walking aphrodisiac. The fact that she was human didn’t seem to quell my arousal for her in the slightest.
“Good morning,” she said, closing the door behind her. With a small, indulgent smile, she added, “Well, I suppose it’s afternoon now, actually.”
I didn’t respond, but she didn’t seem affronted by my lack of acknowledgment. On the contrary, she didn’t even maintain eye contact with me as she strode to the chair opposite mine, almost like she had no expectations of idle conversation. Her indifference to social proprieties surprised me. Every human I’d encountered since coming to Earth who was of any authority had tried to demand respect from the A’li-uud, even when the only interaction was to battle to the death. The egos of the delicate humans were far greater a detriment to them than we were. This woman, however, was either a very good actress or truly didn’t care about my perception of her, and the latter intrigued me.
“My name is Roxanne Rigby. I am the Ambassador of Alien Relations,” she continued. She leaned her lithe body across the table slightly with her hand extended to me. I stared at her in silent incredulity, and, after a second, she snapped her hand back and cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I forgot you were restrained. I suppose you don’t shake hands anyway, though, do you? Most countries around the world don’t, so I can’t imagine a planet an entire galaxy away picking up the practice.”
I continued to stare at her, but my incredulity had melted into wary fascination. She was correct: we didn’t shake hands. In fact, the A’li-uud generally reserved greetings of physical touch for loved ones only. We were a nature-driven and spiritual people, living to honor the Grand Circle and the planet it granted us, and physical touch only served to interrupt the meeting of souls—with the exception of family and partners, of course, as the souls were already bound in love.
Roxanne slid into the seat across from me and placed a file on the table before her. “I guess you’re probably wondering why you’re here.” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Our Intel has reason to believe you are the ground leader of the A’li-uud, reason confirmed by you to Sergeant Hawkins earlier today. I apologize if the manner in which you were brought here was less than luxurious, but we felt it was imperative for the safety of our race, and yours, that we meet with you immediately.”
Even in a tone of no-nonsense professionalism, her voice lilted in such a way that it was nothing short of a song in my ears. Each word she spoke seemed to roll off her tongue like rippled waves on the shore, and her succulent lips flowed from one word to the other like swaths of silk. As she bent forward in her chair to close some of the space between us, I watched those lips draw nearer to me and had to force myself to hear her rather than just see her.
“We wish to discuss a peace treaty,” she said. Her brilliant green eyes bore into me, and I could have sworn I was back on Albaterra again.
6
Roxanne
Despite my resolve to remain cool and collected, the alien’s unbreakable silence and bold staring had me unnerved. He hadn’t said a word since I’d walked in, and his eyes hadn’t left me for even a split second.
I’d had an idea of his appearance going into the meeting thanks to the abundance of news reports from around the world. The coverage from Hong Kong, Paris, Sydney, and many other major cities had shown the A’li-uud as tall, muscular humanoids with defined faces and blue skin. Seeing him in person, however, was a visceral demonstration of the differences in their race not unlike the differences between humans. In contrast to the skin tones of deep, rich indigo and bright sky blue that I’d seen on television, this alien was so pale that he resembled sea froth with the merest hints of azure in his flesh. His eyes were hardly eyes at all as his irises were nearly the same color as his sclera, which was practically identical to the sea froth hue I’d already identified. He bore finely-chiseled features: a smooth nose, high cheekbones, a defined chin, and a squared jaw of marble. As he was shirtless, I was able to see he was as muscular as his counterparts, but I was unable to gauge his height from his seated position.
In short, he was ethereal.
I wondered if I was staring at him as unapologetically as he was staring at me, and I quickly flicked my gaze over his shoulder to the expanse of the city behind him. What once would have been a vision of activity was now reminiscent of desolate dystopia. No taxis flooded the streets. No businessmen power walked past stores. No groups of tourists stopped to take pictures in front of great neon signs. Traffic lights blinked for no one, trash tumbled freely without obstruction of feet, and dark windows gaped like blank faces from every direction. New York City, once a major hub of the world, had become a ghost town.
“We wish to discuss a peace treaty, Mister…” I repeated, whipping my gaze back to him as I spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
For a moment, I was sure he was going to continue his tirade of silent ogling. Then, for the first time since I’d come into the room, his thin lips parted to reply.
“De’inde Et’Petrum Montem’tribus.”
It was my turn to gawk at him. I knew he’d spoken English because the native language of A’li-uud was reported to be some kind of clacking noise, but he may as well have said it in A’li-uud because it sounded like complete gibberish to me. “I don’t—”
“You may call me Dane,” he interrupted.
His voice was strange, rather unlike a voice and more like an instrument. It wasn’t musical in quality, but it had a reverberating bass tone to it that put me in mind of a somber symphonic piece. He had a curious way of talking, clipping his words at their ends, leaving the listener wondering if there was more to come.
“Very well, Mr. Dane—”
“No,” he said sharply, cutting me off once more. “Just Dane.”
I opened my mouth to apologize for the misunderstanding and to continue with my purpose, but I stopped short of uttering a single syllable as his phantom eyes pressed into me. His shoulders, straight and proud, inclined toward me slightly, and I distinctly heard the sound of a slow inhale.
“Are you smelling me?” I asked in disbelief. I didn’t intend to ask the question, but it spilled from my mouth before I could stop myself.
The corners of his lips flinched, and the way his eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly at the edges mad
e me wonder if there was a smile beneath his defiant visage. “You smell of florals and sweetness. Your scent is quite strong.”
“I wear lavender-scented perfume. Does it bother you?”
“I am not talking about the perfume. I can smell that, chemical and harsh. It is your natural scent that is sweet, your very essence.” His eyes never left mine as he spoke, and he added unblinkingly, “It is quite nice.”
One of the curses of being fair-skinned was my tendency to blush, and this time was no exception. My cheeks flooded with scarlet heat, which I tried to hide by looking down at the table, but I was unable to break the connection he maintained with his gaze. To my surprise, another part of me warmed as well, and I crossed my legs against the unexpected bloom.
As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough, the alien tilted his head and commented lightly, “That is nice, too.”
I froze, horrified at the thought of him being able to smell the sudden desire that had awoken inside me. “What’s nice?” I croaked.
“The pink in your cheeks,” he said unabashedly. “A’li-uud do not do that.”
He was so different from human men that my only response was to goggle at him, even as relief flooded through me with the reassurance that my secret was safe. When men paid me a compliment, they were either self-conscious and concerned about the response they’d get or cocky and over-confident. Dane was neither. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t care how I reacted because it would remain true either way, and it was as humbling as it was thrilling.
“Thank you,” I murmured shyly. A comfortable silence fell between us, and then I remembered the reason for the meeting in the first place. I tapped the folder in front of me with my index finger and said, “Now, Dane, about the peace treaty—”
Dane: A Scifi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 3 Page 3