In Time to Love

by Gloria Martin

  “My beautiful Violet,” Lucas was murmuring as he grasped her hips.

  Oliver sat back on the sofa, watching the two of them. He had never seen Lucas so passionate about a lover before. This Violet Miller—a famous muse from New York City—would she want to stay with them? The love that Oliver felt for Lucas was one of father and lover combined. He couldn’t bear the thought of what his unhappiness might be if Violet left Louisiana and returned back to her charmed life up North.

  Violet was lost in ecstasy now. It was as if she had fallen into a trance again. Her hands were braced against the couch as she offered herself in nothing but her stockings to the man behind her. It was strange that she trusted him implicitly. The rest of her life faded into obscurity as Lucas thrust against her, hands around her slender waist as he increased his pace. She could feel pleasure building inside her, threatening to explode.

  Oliver was undressing now. Letting his white linen drop to the floor as he pulled off his shirt and trousers. Violet took in the sight of him hungrily, admiring his powerful build. His white skin was covered in black tattoos. Voodoo symbols and coats of arms. An elaborate cross was tattooed on his chest, which rose and fell rapidly, betraying his desire as he moved to embrace Lucas from behind. Without a word, Lucas withdrew, and Violet moved up to the couch, spreading her thighs apart and resting a hand there as she watched as Oliver kissed Lucas’s cheeks. He nibbled his neck from behind as he stroked his manhood and slipped a skilled finger inside of him. Lucas was beside himself with arousal. He surged forward, thrusting into Violet as Oliver spread him apart, pushing inside of him—taking him whole. He let out a strangled moan of pleasure and bit down hard on Violet’s neck. Oliver thrust hard into him, and his face transformed into a mask of ferocious desire. Each thrust drove him closer to the edge—closer into Violet’s heat. She writhed against them. Lucas was sucking at her neck now, and the pain of it mixed with the pleasure, as he drank of her body and soul. She was barely conscious of Oliver whispering.

  “Take her. Take her, Lucas,” he was murmuring over and over again in the younger man’s ear as he thrust into him. “Together.” He was taller than Lucas, and he leaned over him, sinking his fangs into the other side of Violet’s neck. She writhed and moaned at the mercy of the men. Lucas pushed into her one final time, bellowing into the crook of her neck as he came to his crisis, filling her with his seed. Violet bucked against him, lost in a haze of absolute pain and pleasure, losing control as her orgasm crashed over her. Her eyes rolled back, and the room went dark.

  When she awoke hours later, she found herself nestled in between Lucas and Oliver in a large four-poster bed. Each man had thrown a protective arm across her as they slept. She was surprised to find that her neck was free of pain. Her teeth felt unfamiliar and strangely oblong. They were sharp. And then she knew. Her heart swelled with a strange happiness as she felt the steady breathing of the men beside her. She had fallen in love with them. She had fallen in love with New Orleans.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 37 of 40

  The Alien Twins

  There are only a few things of which I’m certain anymore. I can practically count the facts I’m totally sure of, on one hand.

  My name is Angie Lai.

  The year is thirty ninety something… I think. I lost track a while back, so I can’t be one hundred percent sure on that.

  The Nya war has been going on for years, now and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to end anytime soon.

  I’m pissed off.

  To be fair, it’s not so much the war that’s pissing me off, it’s everything else. The war is all that I know. The alien race invaded Earth when I was only a baby – wanting our planet because they destroyed their own – so surviving it isn’t a problem as far as I’m concerned.

  It’s just the hiding that’s doing my head in. The constant need to keep out of view. I’m not even hiding from the Nya so much. Them, I can handle. Them, I can face. Sure they might be able to shape shift and disguise themselves as humans, but I can always pick out the telltale signs that they aren’t. The blueish hue to their lips, the odd shape to their waists, their extremely pale irises.

  They might have gotten the general human shape right, but they haven’t quite achieved it exactly. I’ve been on my own long enough, survived with no one else to rely on, I know what I’m looking out for, it’s no issue to me.

  No, it’s the humans that I’m trying to keep away from.

  My mum died in the early days of the war, so I’ve only ever had my very charismatic father around. Growing up, I idolized him; I thought that he was the best thing on the planet.

  So did everyone else.

  Now, he leads a pretty big colony of people, trying to fight the Nya, and everyone hangs on his every word. It took me a while, but as I got into my late teens I started to see him for what he really is.

  A control freak, drunk on power. He preaches hate like it’s normal, turns people into venomous killing machines, then he sits back and just waits for hell to unleash.

  I don’t like his methods, and to be honest I don’t like him anymore.

  It took me a while to get up the confidence, but I eventually ran away, left the colony, and I’m pretty sure that he’s been after me ever since. It’s been years now, and I’m still fearful of getting caught. But I’m better by myself, I know I am. I don’t need him, or any of them. I can’t go back, not now, not ever.

  I never fit in with the humans anyway. I’ve always been an outsider. This will only make that worse.

  I remember the humans telling me about the old days, before the war, and that world seems so alien to me – like something I could never survive in. I often torture myself wondering what it’ll be like if this war ever ends, and the Nya leave.

  How will I survive that? I just don’t think I can.

  Here, killing aliens, by myself, this is what I’m made for. This is all that I know, and all that I’ll ever be.

  *****

  I’ve spent the last few days settled in an oversized abandoned warehouse, but I haven’t felt fully comfortable for a while. I much prefer smaller, safer spaces to sleep in. I like to be able to feel every wall around me if possible, to ensure that I’m definitely alone.

  I only got stuck here because I became convinced that I was being chased, and it was the only place I could hide in. Then, I remained here because I’d become fatigued and weary. I stayed because I have nothing else to do.

  But now it’s time to make my move once more. I’ve run out of food supplies, so I can’t stay for much longer anyway – even if I wanted to.

  This is the hardest part of survival – the constant need for food. It always comes down to food.

  I pack up my belongings, looking forward to getting back on the road, where I feel the most like myself. As I chuck everything into my meager backpack, I manage to catch a glimpse of myself in a cracked window, and I sigh in disappointment.

  I look a mess.

  Washing isn’t top priority of course, but I prefer to do so when I can. I hate it when it’s been a while – my long auburn hair becomes matted, which is why I have it pinned back as much as possible. On top of that, my blue eyes look more than a little tired, and my clothing has been ripped somewhere along the line. I’ll have to try and find something else to wear at some point, which is just another job that I could do without. It’s difficult to find clothing when it hasn’t been produced for over a decade. Luckily, I’m slim so I can fit into pretty much anything. Too big is better than too small.

  I get so lost in looking at myself, at internally criticizing my appearance, that for a split second I forget all about my surroundings. My ears drop their constantly alerted state, my hypersensitivity dulls, and my eyes concentrate only on me. For the first time in a very long time, I drop my guard, and that turns out to be the biggest mistake I could ever make. It may only be for a second, but it’s enough to change absolutely everything.

  Bang!

  I feel a blind
ing pain emanating from the left side of my head as my body collapses to the ground.

  What’s going on? What’s happening?

  I’m so stunned that it takes me a while to realize that this is bad… really bad. A tight knot of panic forms around my heart, and begins to race through my veins, but it’s too late. I’m losing it – sight, consciousness, everything.

  Then, I’m left with an everlasting blackness…

  ***

  Huh?

  I try to prize my eyes open, but the white light is too blinding for me to be able to see. My head is aching painfully, and I cannot recall where I am, or what I’m doing – a prospect that I find absolutely terrifying.

  What’s the last thing I can remember?

  I try to think back, to pick up anything, but for some reason my memory is all flickers of nothing.

  I finally manage to take a look around, just to find myself in surroundings that I don’t recognize at all. It’s dirty, dusty, tiny… just like the sort of places I normally hide in, but there’s one big difference. There are bars keeping me in.

  I’ve been locked up!

  The first face that comes to mind is that of my dad. He’s finally caught me! A terrifying panic overcomes me at the thought of having to see his face again. After all this time, how will he be?

  I force myself into a standing position, my legs aching with the weight of my body, and I slowly stagger my way to the bars, wondering how easy they would be to break free from. I might be a good fighter, but that’s because I’m fast, not necessarily strong. Certainly not tough enough to even begin to dent metal.

  I’m stuck here, with no damn escape. After all this time, all these years, one second of distraction and I managed to get myself caught.

  “Hey,” I call out weakly, to the guard standing in front of my cell. “What’s going on?”

  He spins slowly to face me, revealing something unexpected, something that makes my heart sink. A blueish hue, oddly shaped waist, pale irises.

  I haven’t been caught by humans. The Nya have got me.

  Somehow, this is so much worse. Humans – although a race that I don’t really fit in with – can understand me. I could manipulate them, try to get some help. The Nya have their own language. Over time, some of them have managed to mimic a bit of English, but never good enough to communicate with.

  “Crap.” I mutter to myself, my mind whizzing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to find a solution of some kind.

  “You… are… Angie Lai,” I suddenly hear, coming from this Nya, sounding stilted – but far more English than any other Nya I’ve ever heard before.

  My eyes snap up to him, trying to get a good look at him, to attempt to judge whether or not he can really hear me.

  “I…” I start, but then he continues trying to talk.

  “Your father is Nigel Lai,” he continues, seemingly building up his confidence.

  “Yes, you… you can understand me?” I gasp, completely confused as to why any of the Nya would bother to learn the language of the race that they’re trying to wipe out. It seems like a massive waste of time to me.

  “Yes. A little. I’ve been learning, trying to further my translator.”

  “Translator?” I ask, shaking my head feeling completely confused.

  “Some of us, not all, want to talk with humans. We aren’t all… for the fighting.” As he speaks slowly, trying his best to think of the right words, I take a good look at him. It seems that he really is telling the truth – I can tell by the extra effort that he’s made to look like us. The others have done so half-heartedly, not really needing to make too much effort because there are so few humans left, but this alien has sculpted what most would consider the perfect man. Tall, dark, very handsome, with a strong, muscular body. Of course, he cannot do anything about the telltale signs, but somehow, in an odd way, they manage to make him even more attractive.

  I suddenly shake my head, realizing that I’m staring at him in a weirdly lustful way. This is the enemy, a Nya. He might look human, but he isn’t. I can’t allow myself to get fooled by that, or it might just be the death of me.

  “Yes,” another voice bursts out from behind him, as a figure steps out from the shadow. “Some want peace.”

  The man standing behind the guard looks exactly like him. Identical, as if they’re twins. I have to glance between them a few times, to check that I’m not seeing things.

  “You… and you…” I’m aware that these shape shifters can do what they like, but in my injured, slightly bewildered state, this is almost too much to handle.

  “We look the same… like the images of brothers we have seen from your world.”

  “Yes.” I pant, feelings a little faint. “Like twins.” Are they twins? Or even brothers? Is that a thing in their race? I suddenly realize that the Nya know a lot more about humans, than we do about them.

  *****

  As the day’s pass, I find myself spending a lot of time with the alien twins – Wrotg and Arlaf – learning more about them, and their race.

  The twins are part of an underground movement that has been working hard to undermine the war efforts, wanting to put an end to it. They are the reason that after the initial massacre, a lot of us are still here. The Nya in charge believe that the humans are fighting back, outwitting them at every turn, but in reality we have nothing to do with it. If it weren’t for these aliens, we would all be gone by now.

  According to Wrotg, many Nya were convinced to take part in this takeover with the promise that there was hardly anyone on Earth, and that they would live peacefully alongside us – a concept that quickly fell apart. Now, they want to take themselves to a barren planet, to start again, to try and rebuild from there, but since Earth is such a viable planet, it’s going to take more than persuasion to change the leader’s minds.

  It also turns out that I haven’t been quite as clever with my hiding as I thought either. The Nya have been keeping an eye on me the entire time, just waiting for the moment that I would be needed.

  And it seems like that moment has come.

  Apparently, the colony that my dad is in charge of is much bigger now, and much more filled with a hateful need for revenge. He’s poisoning the minds of everyone, leading them into a war that they cannot win.

  Something about him has the Nya leaders nervous, so they have kidnapped me as a bargaining tool.

  I listen intently as Wrotg tells me of this plan.

  “They think he will give up… for you.”

  “I don’t know,” I gasp, throwing my hand up to my head. “I don’t know if he will, it’s been so long.”

  “The leaders won’t see that. We view time differently to you. To us, it hasn’t been long at all. Our days are the equivalent of your months; our years are approximately eight of yours. Our planet moved differently to this one, meaning we see time in a completely different way.”

  I don’t know what to do with this information. I would gladly allow myself to be used if I believed it would stop my dad from getting a bunch of people killed, but I really don’t believe that it will.

  I think it’ll make things worse.

  “We don’t like it,” Wrotg continues determinedly. “We think it will end up killing you. We don’t want that to happen, we will save you.”

  “The underground movement?” I ask nervously. I don’t want to be responsible for their identities being revealed either – the human race depends on them!

  “No, me and Arlaf.”

  “Why?” I whisper, but neither of them answers. Why the hell would two Nya want to help me? Sure, they hate the war, but saving me endangers them.

  It makes no sense. None of it, yet I find myself incredibly relieved to know that for the first time ever, I finally have someone on my side.

  *****

  Nothing is mentioned over the coming days, making me wonder if either of the twins has backed out of the plan. Of course, I completely understand if that’s the case, but I can’t help feeling desp
ondent about it.

  I almost had an answer, an escape, and now that’s been stripped away from me.

  Until suddenly, one night out of nowhere, Arlaf shakes me awake and tells me to follow him, with no explanation attached. I’m getting a little used to his lack of talking, but when he won’t even tell me where Wrotg is, I find it more than a little disconcerting.

  “Shhh…” is the only communication I get, as we race through winding tunnels filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful things. Contraptions that look light years ahead of where humans are when it comes to technology. I always heard that before all of this, we were a very advanced society, but now I think that might have just been another untruth.

  I begin to feel sick and dizzy as we weave, scared that we’re never going to escape, even becoming terrified that this might all be a part of a plan to get me killed…

  But then all of a sudden, we’re outside and the sun is beating down on my shoulders.

  “Wrotg!” I pant, spotting him in the distance.

  As we run towards his lookout position, I feel my heart pounding with excitement and my legs turning to jelly. This guy – him and his brother – are my saviors, and in this moment, it’s causing me to have all kinds of confusing emotions. Ones that I really need to forget.

  “Thank you,” I gasp, as we reach his side, pulling them both in for a hug in turn. Even the way that their warm bodies press against mine, and the musky scent that’s coming from them both, is confusingly human.

  As I prepare myself to say goodbye, I feel oddly sad at the thought of never getting to see them again, but then Arlaf interrupts me.

  “Come on, go. Now.”

  “No,” I try to insist, not wanting them to endanger themselves, but then Wrotg explains that they cannot stay now, that it will be known that they helped me since they were always on guard, that they are fugitives, just as much as me.