The Yielding of Rose (Terran Captives Book 2)

by Trent Evans

  That was as mystifying as how she ended up in the current mess she was in. Broke, friendless, and without hope, on a soaking wet park bench in one of the countless, and to her, anonymous, little towns that bled one into another as part of Greater London metro.

  There was a shimmer off to her left, toward the water, and she peered in vain in its direction. But there was nothing there. It reminded her of the glint of passing headlights off the rippling surface of water. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, and the first few times she’d assumed it was a play of city lights against the current.

  But with the pouring rain, the shimmer shouldn’t have been there.

  “Who cares?” she muttered. “You’re probably hallucinating from lack of food, you idiot.”

  Her stomach growled angrily, as if on cue, and she wrapped her arms around her belly, trying to decide if she wanted to spend her last bit of money on this Earth for a little something to eat.

  “Bum a fag, love?”

  She almost fell off the bench, her heart in her throat, the softly spoken words taking her utterly by surprise.

  The voice was familiar — which wasn’t a good sign.

  His tall, gaunt form was plastered with a rain-sodden bright blue windbreaker, the hood pulled tight about his face in a way that made it impossible to make him out.

  “You want to smoke? In this?” She shook her head, looking up. “Even if I had one, we’d never be able to light the damned thing. Maybe try building an ark — or getting a clue. Either way, better use of your time.”

  An acid tongue could chase off most of them, and she hoped it would work this time too. She didn’t have the energy for anything else.

  “Oh, I think we could come up with something a might better, Yankee Rose.” It was a deeper, much more assured voice, the bench creaking as another man sat down next to her. Reflexively, she flinched away the tiniest bit, hating that it was a too obvious signal of the fear growing within her by the second.

  It was Charlie Gareth.

  Shit.

  He definitely was one of the more dangerous men from the club. Much too free with the hands, and seemed to believe anything with tits was his personal property. She’d seen him at Atlantis more than once, even talked to him a time or two, if only to show him she was of no interest to him.

  It hadn’t worked, but at least she’d never had to deal with him anywhere but the relatively safe confines of the club. Until now.

  And there was only one way he’d have known about this place.

  “You following girls now, Charlie? You could’ve just talked to me at the club like a normal human being. Asshole” She made to stand, but his hand clamped upon her thigh, his fingers like cold iron, pinning her in place.

  The man in the blue windbreaker stepped close, cutting off any escape route toward the street.

  Charlie turned his face toward her, leaning in close, the smell of stale cigarettes and whiskey on his breath, his black, beady eyes glinting. “The club’s no place to have a go at some American cunt, now is it? We’re bloody well exactly where we need to be, girl.”

  * * *

  Kosha knew the girl was in danger.

  Human beings were an endlessly interesting species. In all the many Terran months he’d spent on the surface, every day brought something new. And over time, he’d understood that most humans were uncomplicated beings, animals really, but ones blessed — and cursed — with intense emotions. It was something unique to the civilizations surveyed by the Yaanfahr, a species with so much potential, and yet both buoyed and weighed down by the bath of hormones constantly assaulting their brains.

  To Kosha, humans were in many ways, simply animals — and dangerous ones, at that. Yes, they were intelligent, but despite their pretenses at culture and sophistication, hadn’t really advanced much beyond the other savage, primitive species of their planet.

  He’d seen the sweet, quiet kindness these beings were capable of, and he’d witnessed more times than he cared to count the depths of depravity, of man brutalizing man. He’d never intervened before, such an act being strictly against the Directive. Never before had he been tempted, even when he’d witnessed humans take the lives of others. To him, it was akin to watching predators at work in Terra’s tropical plains — the humans called it “savannah” — taking down and dispatching prey animals. It was just the way of life and death on this world.

  Something about this one was different though, a luminescence to her gaze as she stared out into the driving rain. There was a loneliness, and yet, a restless energy about her that piqued his curiosity.

  Each day he picked one human, at random, to follow and observe, to note the endless variety, and the suffocating banality of most of their existences. He didn’t know why he picked this human or that, and took great pleasure in simply going with intuition, in not questioning it once the choice had been made.

  In some cases, he’d followed that human through the last day of their life.

  He suspected that might be the case tonight, as he noted the young males approaching from two different directions. That was never a good sign for the object of their interest — too often, as tonight, a lone, foolishly unprotected female.

  Her head snapped around, her eyes scanning the water in his direction, and for a moment, he wondered if his spoofing unit was failing. He’d picked a spot right along the shore, liking the way the view put her in profile to him, the way the tip of her pale nose just peeked out from the protection of her hood. He’d never gotten a clear look at her, simply following her as she’d exited the thumping cacophony of one of their clubs, the blare of music spilling onto the street as she strode out onto the puddles of the sidewalk. She’d already had her hood up, as if she wished to stay concealed until the imminent arrival of night allowed her to slip away into its dark anonymity.

  She finally looked away, and he allowed himself a slow step up the riverbank, drawing closer to her but not knowing precisely why. He told himself he would not interfere with whatever was about to happen, that he must not, but at the same time… a certainty was growing within him that he was not about to let these men hurt this girl.

  Not tonight, anyway.

  Too far away to hear precisely what was said, the first male, his rail-thin figure rendered to little more than a suggestion of shape and form by the rain and mist, stood over her, the waning gray light catching in her eyes as she looked up at him, her face a pale oval within the shroud. Her lips moved, a sneer twisting them as the second man crept up behind her. For a moment, this larger, more menacing man stared down at the top of her head, a gleeful malevolence radiating from him.

  The killer cornering its victim.

  Kosha drew closer as the second man sat down on the bench next to her. He heard the name “Charlie” spat from her lips as he unholstered his sidearm. Her voice was strong, but the subtle quaver gave away the truth. She was afraid.

  He took another step, now no more than a few paces from the male still on his feet.

  When she tried to stand, the man next to her holding her by the leg, Kosha was already moving. Pressing the barrel right between the shoulder blades of the standing man, he pulled the trigger, the male crumpling to the ground with a wheezing gasp, his entire body twitching, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared up into the falling rain.

  Kosha switched off the spoofing unit, looming over the two seated on the bench.

  The man stared up at him, his mouth dropping open. “What the f—”

  She hadn’t even noticed Kosha though, taking the opportunity to punch the man seated next to her square in the side of his jaw.

  His head whipped back with a grunt, then he elbowed her in the mouth, knocking her clear off the bench, sending her sprawling across the legs of the spasming man on the ground.

  The girl didn’t move from where she’d fallen.

  Pointing the weapon at Charlie’s forehead, Kosha fired, the air crackling with sound. The male went utterly still for an instant, the whites of
his eyes showing. Then he toppled over the other side of the bench, his body curled in a fetal position as he convulsed.

  Kosha scanned their surroundings, flicking over to IFR for a moment to be sure they were alone. The combination of the falling night, the mist and the trees and bushes clustered along the riverbank ensured they were deep in shadow, which would allow him to keep the spoofing unit off.

  He turned the girl over, her eyes lolling. Her upper lip was split, bright blood smearing her white teeth. Her eyes went desperately wide as she fixed her gaze upon him.

  “Who… what…?”

  Instead of a reply, he drew her to her feet, holding her tightly by one arm as he sat down upon a bench much too small for a Yaanfahri. He approached eight Terran feet in height, and as he stood her up between his knees to get a look at her, her diminutiveness in relation to his frame was that much more dramatic.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “What do you…” She brought her free hand to her mouth, and winced. “Damn it!”

  “Anything broken?” The human body was quite durable, but compared to Yaanfahri physiology, comparatively prone to injury. His home planet had a gravitational field somewhat stronger than Terra’s and as a result life there, including Yaafahris, had evolved with bodies much more powerfully built to compensate.

  She touched her upper jaw. “I might have a loose tooth. Not sure.”

  “We can fix that.”

  He slipped her hood off, and for a moment, looked upon her, grappling with the sudden, strange feeling of… sexual attraction. It wasn’t unknown for human females to be found attractive, but it was strictly forbidden to act upon it, for a myriad of reasons. Still, there was something… irresistible about her.

  And all that hair.

  It was long, a dazzling bright russet color, the rain soaking into it, darkening the wavy locks to a reddish sienna. Her nose and cheeks were a riot of freckles over pale, clear skin. A fat drop of rain, tinged pink with her blood, dripped from the split flesh of her plump upper lip. The girl’s eyes were a striking shade of pale azure he’d rarely seen before, and he felt himself unable to look away from them.

  He wondered if they’d be even more beautiful when she cried.

  The girl looked over his shoulder at Charlie, still quivering on the sodden grass. “How’d you… do that?”

  “Half charge on the sidearm is sufficient to render human-sized targets incapacitated.”

  Kosha was impressed she hadn’t dissolved into a terrified mess. Humans often did when confronted with the sight of Yaanfahri. It didn’t often happen, but it had occurred a time or two during his tours of Terra.

  “You aren’t afraid?”

  “You saved me from being raped… or worse. Should I be afraid of you?”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I know I’m dreaming all of this.” She tilted her head toward the motionless male she’d fallen onto. “I’m probably still lying there right now. Fucking Charlie knocked me right out, didn’t he? Asshole.”

  “You’re very much awake, human.”

  “Rose. My name is… Rose.”

  He touched her lips, and she managed not to flinch. “That might scar if it’s not seen to correctly.”

  “A doctor can fix it.”

  The rain slicker she wore was plastered to her body now, hinting at more beneath. Was his interest in seeing what lay under her soaked clothing something other than… curiosity?

  His mind said no, but the growing hardness of his cock said something else.

  “We have a far more serious problem. And your doctors can’t fix it.”

  She swallowed, brushing a soaked lock of hair from her eyes. “W-what’s that?”

  “You’ve seen me.”

  “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

  “Immaterial. I can’t very well let you go having seen me, can I?”

  She twisted against his grip. “Wake up, Rose. Time to wake up.”

  He grasped her chin between two fingers. “What am I to do with you, little human?”

  “Let me go?” A drop of rain threatened to drip from her pert little chin, and he suppressed the urge to kiss it from her skin.

  “I think we’re past that.”

  Of course, he could have just wiped her right there, and she’d have no memory of what had just happened. Something kept him from offering it though.

  It was that sense of adventure, that exhilarating feeling of allowing the chaos, the randomness of existence, to determine what happened next. Maybe he’d keep her after all? He could think of more than a few things regarding humans — and human females in particular — that he might be curious about. Given the time and space to explore them, that is.

  The Captain is never going to go for it.

  Captain Meloran, his mission CO, was a good soldier — solid, reliable, dependable. But he knew his commanding officer would never rise much above his current station. Meloran was a Yaanfahri with a distinct lack of imagination, possessing a distaste for improvisation, or spontaneity. He never distracted himself with curious pondering of what might be.

  Someday, Meloran would be one of Kosha’s subordinates — of that he had no doubt.

  But that day would never come to pass if he discovered Kosha had abducted one of the humans.

  I’ll think of something.

  He stood up, and she paled as she gazed up at him. “Holy shit… I’m in trouble.”

  “You are.” He touched her cheek. “But not the sort you might think.”

  Then he plucked her from the ground, and draped her over his shoulder, using one arm to pin her slender, kicking legs fast against his torso.

  “What are you doing! Put me… down!” Her tiny fists beat upon his back and he grinned. Yes, there were several promising areas he might like to explore with this one.

  “When I get you back to my transport, we’re going to have a little lesson about what happens when you strike me.”

  He flipped on the spoofing unit, knowing its dampening field would hide not only their forms but any noise his feisty little captive was likely to raise.

  As he strode east toward the park where he’d landed his transport craft he allowed himself a little smile, adjusting the suddenly very tight fit at the crotch of his jumpsuit.

  Chapter 2

  Punching the bulging, steely muscles of his back was about as effective —and almost as painful — as sparring with an anvil.

  “You don’t have to do this. I… I won’t tell anyone about this. I swear. Just let me go.”

  She didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but she knew one thing. He was fast.

  Though he never seemed to even be exerting himself particularly, his walking was at least as swift as she was in an all-out run. In less time than she’d ever have believed, he’d moved away from town, heading east, dashing down streets occasionally, but mostly keeping to areas away from any people. And any hope of her rescue.

  “Nobody would believe you even if you did speak of me.”

  His voice was deep, so deep it vibrated up through her body. She’d ceased kicking, knowing it wasn’t going to get her anywhere against the tremendous strength of his grip. She felt like little more than a doll in this alien’s clutches.

  Alien.

  The thought was so unbelievable, so heart-stopping in its magnitude, her mind was only able to nibble at it around the edges, as if fully examining the fact might be a danger to her sanity.

  You still think you’re sane?

  “It doesn’t matter if they’d believe me — because I’d never tell a soul. We can pretend none of this happened. You don’t even have to take me back there. Just… just put me down, right here. I’ll walk away. That’ll be the end of it.”

  “It’s too late for that, human.”

  “Goddammit, my name is Rose.”

  “For now it is.”

  A chill shivered its way down her body. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You
keep making so much noise and I might have to gag you.” He shifted her body over his shoulder, laying his long arm across her back, pressing the breath from her lungs for a moment. Then he relented, leaving her gasping. “Or perhaps you need a little taster from the stun gun.”

  “No! No… I’m sorry.”

  “What were you doing, sitting there all alone?”

  The question stunned her for a moment. Being carried over this creature’s shoulder like a prize was surreal — and humiliating — enough, but his tone and the implication of his words only amplified it.

  “I always sit there. It’s… it’s one of the places that nobody knows about. It’s quiet, I guess.”

  “Your club was anything but. So, why do you like quiet places?”

  “You followed me too? Jesus, I can’t—”

  She grunted as he jumped up onto a retaining wall easily six feet high, the leap something no human could have matched — especially while carrying a woman slung over his shoulder. He weaved through a closely-spaced neighborhood of ancient cottages, leaping over a wrought iron fence like a finely-trained Arabian on an equestrian course.

  Fuck, you’re in deep shit.

  Rose kept talking though, hoping that keeping his mind occupied might help keep hers from fixating on what might happen once he got to wherever he intended on taking her.

  “I need the quiet, sometimes. Helps me… think.”

  “You like being alone. Humans are such strange creatures.”

  “Well… yes, I guess. But you’re… whatever you are. You’re not exactly normal either, you know.”

  When she’d first looked up at him, the coppery taste of her blood coating her tongue, her face throbbing angrily, the thought that had popped into her mind was that someone had made Mr. Clean come to life. With his perfectly smooth head, strong brow and deep set, almost twinkling green eyes, he was perhaps the most fiercely masculine figure she’d ever laid eyes on. He was clad in a silvery gray jumpsuit that resembled something a fighter pilot might wear, though mounted over one shoulder was a strange metallic unit, perhaps a foot long on each side. She had no idea what it actually did, but it emitted a low hum, a slight warmth emanating from it.