by Cynthia Sax
Warrior Miar Najazd raised his forehead ridges, grave comprehension in his black-and-green eyes. “My Danielle.”
“Your Danielle.” Krol released his hold on consciousness and slipped into the darkness. She was safe.
“What the hell?” Danielle snatched her hand away from the strange alien and placed her palm over Krol’s ridged fingers. “I’m your Danielle, my Krol, and I need a goddamn—”
Two smaller aliens dressed in blue brushed against her, chattering in their own language, their faces animated.
“Finally!” She stepped away from Krol to allow them room to work. “You assholes took your sweet fucking time.” Danielle reached for her discarded space gun, curling her fingers around the handle, comforted by the touch of cold metal against her skin. “He needs surgery. Right away. He’s bleeding badly.”
The Fixers lifted Krol onto a floating stretcher. Danielle moved with him, resting her gunless hand on Krol’s big thigh. “You can fix him, right?” He was so cold, and his eyes, before they closed, had stopped swirling. That’s a bad sign. It has to be. “Because he can’t die. I won’t allow him to die.”
Damn it. Danielle blinked back tears as she walked with him to the corridor. Soldiers don’t cry. You didn’t cry during Mom’s funeral. You won’t cry now. Krol needs you to be strong for him, to fight for him.
“I want the best damn Fixer on the spaceship,” she declared. “Hell, on any surrounding spaceships. I—”
Big hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her back. “What the hell?” Danielle scowled up at Krol’s friend Miar. “Get your hands off me.” She twisted but she couldn’t get free. “I have to go with my Krol. He needs me.”
“You are my Danielle.” Miar stuck his chin ridge out mulishly. “I will protect you.”
“I am not your Danielle.” Relax, Officer Danielle. This is Krol’s friend. She took deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down. Don’t kill him. He means well. She tapped her fingers on the handle of her space gun.
“Your buddy Krol said that because he thinks he’s dying, but he isn’t dying.” Her voice broke. He can’t. I won’t let him die. I won’t. “He’s living for a long time, so release me or I’ll blast your ass into outer space.”
Krol’s big boots disappeared from view and panic welled up inside her. “Let me go!” She struggled, leaning toward the doorway. If I lose sight of him, he’ll die. He will.
“You are my Danielle,” Miar repeated, his voice cold and stern and unfeeling.
“I am not your Danielle!” she yelled. “Ohhh…I don’t have the patience for this.” She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. “For the last time, let me go. If you don’t, I’ll shoot your green-and-black ass, and I mean it. I will shoot you.”
Miar said nothing. His grip on her shoulders tightened.
“Fine.” Danielle lowered her gun, aimed for his ridged kneecap and then moved the muzzle slightly to the right. The warrior didn’t release her and Krol was being taken God knows where, to get God knows what kind of alien medical treatment. “We need a Fixer!” she shouted.
She pressed the trigger button.
It was a perfect shot, grazing the ridge and stripping off skin, leaving the bone unharmed. Miar bellowed and bent over to clutch his knee, his face contorting in pain.
“Sorry!” Danielle flung the apology over her shoulder as she darted down the corridor, Puppy following her, his yips echoing her concern. He has to live. Krol has to live. He has to. She caught up with the Fixers conveying him. They turned their faces in her direction, their eyes widening.
“No, no stopping.” Danielle waved her gun. “Don’t worry about the other warrior. Your priority is Krol, understand?” She glared at the aliens. “You have to fix him. There is no other alternative.”
Chapter Five
Soldiers don’t cry. Damn it. Danielle squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her tears to subside. Soldiers don’t cry.
It had been three days and she remained by Krol’s bed. Needing to take action, any action, Danielle adjusted the muscle stimulators on his arms for the tenth time that hour and tugged the thin sheet over his body. Her alien lover lay scarily still except for the shallow dip of his chest as he breathed. He’ll get better. She took his hand. His palm is warmer, isn’t it? It is. It has to be.
Puppy whined, the pitiful sound tugging at her already strained heartstrings. His small body was draped over her left boot, his stomach partially hiding the chew marks in the leather, and he stared up at her with big brown eyes, as if asking when Krol, his master, would awaken.
“I don’t know, Puppy,” she whispered, unwilling to break the eerie quiet. Even the machines attached to Krol made no noise, creating a surreal dreamlike atmosphere. No, not dreamlike. She glanced at Krol. Nightmare-like. “We have to be patient and let him heal. The Fixers tell me it’s a wonder he’s alive.”
“It is not a wonder.”
Danielle straightened in her funky space chair as Krol’s friend Miar stepped through the gap in the curtain barrier, his smooth gait easing some of her guilt. They hadn’t spoken since she shot him in the knee.
“Warrior Krol Nowak is Sila’s best warrior.” The alien didn’t meet her gaze. “And he is worthy of you, Warrior Danielle Nowak.” Miar took a deep breath and released it. His ridges rattled. “I am not.”
“Geez, Louise.” She rolled her eyes at his dramatic statement. “That wasn’t why I shot you. Here. Have a seat.” Danielle patted the chair beside her. “And stop looming over me.”
Miar sat and the chair groaned a protest. Puppy growled at him, baring his teeth. Miar growled a reply and Puppy backed up, positioning his wiggling ass between Danielle’s legs.
“Are you done scaring my dog?” Danielle raised an eyebrow. The big warrior simply shrugged. “Warrior Miar Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, you seem like a great guy. You’re good-looking.” Miar’s face was achingly similar to Krol’s, yet not as handsome or rugged or…God, no one compared to Krol. “You’re the number two warrior. My Krol likes you.”
“I have a big spicka,” Miar added.
“Yes, you do.” Danielle shook her head. Males and their dicks. “And it vibrates. That will help you with the ladies. Just not with this lady.” She ignored the fear bubbling up within her, and she pushed forward, needing to say the words out loud. “Your buddy Krol has my heart. I love the big goof.”
Miar condensed his forehead ridges in the same manner Krol did when he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
“When I look at my Krol, I feel heat here.” Danielle touched her chest, her fingertips resting on her mother’s dog tags. “When he looks at me, he feels the same heat.”
“You are damaged.” Miar’s eyes swirled with concern.
“It is a good damage, a happy damage.” She patted his arm, trying to reassure him, and he flinched. “We call it love, and when you find the woman you’re meant to be with, you’ll feel the same way, and you won’t want anyone else, no matter what happens.”
“The human love emotion is not rational.” Miar pursed his lips. “If Warrior Krol Nowak had been terminated, you would need protection.”
If Krol had died… He could still die. Fear coursed through her, and Danielle clenched her fists, fighting the urge to shoot, to kill, to do something. “Don’t talk about my Krol being terminated, Miar.” She extracted Krol’s first kill dagger from her leather warrior outfit and the weight of the hilt eased some of her terror. “Or I’ll—”
“My Danielle,” Krol croaked, his voice hoarse. He turned his head toward her, his eyes remaining closed.
“My Krol.” Danielle dropped the dagger. The blade stuck into the metallic floor inches away from Puppy’s front paws. “You’re awake. Thank God.” She stood over Krol and laid her palm on his cheek ridges. No fever. She sighed, relieved. “I’m here, my Krol.” She placed his large palm against her face, his skin rough and warm and alive. “Your Danielle is here.”
“My Danielle.” The corners of his mouth lifte
d into a smile and her lingering fears eased, leaving a bone-deep weariness in its wake.
So tired. She yawned. Must stay awake.
Danielle waited. Krol’s eyelids twitched, but he didn’t open them. He didn’t speak. His jaw slackened. His mouth hung open, his breathing deepening.
He slept.
Danielle crawled onto the bed with him and curled up next to Krol’s massive form, careful not to touch his healing wound. Fabric swished and she looked up. Miar had left, closing the cloth curtain behind him.
She’d forgotten about him. Danielle yawned again. All she cared about was Krol. “My Krol.” She rested her head on his shoulder ridge and laid her hand over his heart. His heartbeat was strong and even. He’ll live. The alien I love will live.
Tears welled in her eyes. Soldiers don’t cry, Officer Danielle. But Danielle, the woman, was too tired to blink the tears away and too emotionally drained to manage her overwhelming relief. He’ll live. The tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, gathering in a cathartic pool on Krol’s chest.
She closed her eyes and listened to him breathe. In, out, in, out. “I love you, my Krol,” she whispered into his black-and-green skin. His sanitized physique smelled of hard, wild male. “I didn’t choose Sila. I chose you.”
* * * * *
I have to find her. Krol ran through the forest, deftly navigating the complex simulator program found in the Silan-based training facilities, utilizing knowledge gained over years of mission delays. His boots crunched on fallen pine needles. Branches smacked his chest and arms, the pain authentic. My Danielle needs my protection.
“Jack pine, Pinus banksiana,” a female voice announced as he passed a tree. “Pine-scented.” A gust of fragrance hit his face. “Flammable. Fragile. Thrusts will damage…”
Krol ignored the educational commentary, searching the dense undergrowth for his mate. He spotted her golden hair, shining like a beacon through the moonlit trees. “My Danielle!” he bellowed. She didn’t stop, her small naked form hurtling forward. Krol chased her, calling her name, but she continued to flee him, her pale ass cheeks rippling with muscle, her hair streaming out behind her.
Why is she running from me? He roared with aggravation. I am her Krol.
She entered a clearing filled with tall grasses. An enormous dark form stood at the edge of the space, his arms crossed, his feet braced apart, his features shrouded in shadow. The images around them flickered yet the male remained solid. Real. Krol tensed. Threat.
His Danielle darted toward the figure and Krol sped after her, determined to catch her. Although he was Silan and she was human, he couldn’t decrease the distance between them. He pumped his arms. He breathed heavily. His legs burned with effort. He was no closer to his druzka.
The dark male grew in size as they approached until his obscured face towered above them. He was a mighty Silan warrior, his biceps bulging, his body toned and heavily ridged, and Krol stepped back in awe, reaching for a weapon. He had none, his leather garment bare of guns and daggers.
“My Danielle,” the big warrior rumbled. He reached out with his massive arms and pulled Krol’s druzka to him.
“No! She is my Danielle.” Krol stretched out his hands. His palm slapped against an invisible barrier. He pushed. The solid wall of air didn’t move. “My Danielle!” he yelled. The barrier expanded until it was all around him, sealing him into a cube.
His Danielle acted as though she didn’t hear him or see him or know he was there. “My warrior.” Her voice was filled with the warmth normally reserved for Krol. “You will protect me.”
“I will protect you, my Danielle!” Krol pounded on the barrier, the thumping echoing in his small chamber.
Her head didn’t turn and her expression didn’t change. His Danielle pushed down the big warrior’s garment, freeing his huge spicka. “You’re so big.” She wrapped her small, pale fingers around the black-and-green vibrating shaft.
“My Danielle!” Krol yelled. She stroked the other warrior’s spicka and a pain split his chest in two. “You are my Danielle.”
As his Danielle touched the rival, Krol felt hands touching his spicka also. He glanced down and saw no fingers wrapped around his engorged shaft. He was alone, and trapped, forced to watch his female’s hand fuck a more worthy warrior, a warrior who had protected her when he couldn’t.
His Danielle rubbed the warrior’s spicka up and down. She moaned words of admiration, each love sound cutting Krol like a dagger.
The warrior didn’t respond. He folded his arms over his abdomen, rested his fingers on his biceps and thrust his hips forward. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t speak to her. He gave her no pleasure, expecting her to service him as if she was a simulator female and not his Danielle.
Her movements became sharper and more desperate. Krol moaned as the skin on his spicka was brutally tugged, the sting exquisite. The warrior made no sound. Color flushed his Danielle’s cheeks and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, Krol feeling her pain as though it were his own.
“You are unworthy!” he shouted at the big warrior.
“I am the number one warrior,” Krol’s rival rumbled, his face not visible.
“Warrior skills are not sufficient.” Krol pressed his forehead ridges against the invisible barrier, the air cool on his heated skin. “My Danielle deserves more.”
Warm, wet lips closed around his tip and Krol kicked out with his feet. Sladky matka. She made him crazed with her touching. She—
The world darkened and she faded into nothing. “My Danielle!” Panic engulfed him. “My Danielle!” He searched for her blindly, reaching his hands into the blackness.
“Easy there, big boy.” His druzka’s teasing voice orientated his emotions like a star in the night sky and he calmed. “Let me take care of you.” Moist warmth covered his spicka.
My Danielle. Krol opened his eyes and stared into a bright light. He blinked. His visual system slowly adjusted and a dizzying array of sensations hit him. His stomach throbbed with a dull pain. His varles were cupped with soft hands. A hot mouth sucked his spicka.
Krol lifted his head. An ache shot across his skull. He winced as he peered along his body. Blonde hair pooled around his bare thighs. The tendrils teased his skin. “My Danielle.” He didn’t recognize his voice.
His Danielle looked up at him, her mouth hovering over his spicka, his shaft glistening with her wetness. “I said stay still.” She slapped his leg and the pain erased any remnants of his sleep. “If you move, my Krol, I’ll stop sucking your cock.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “And neither of us will like that, so keep that green-and-black ass on the bed.”
“I will remain still, my Danielle.” He touched his forehead ridge. His skin temperature was normal, yet his Danielle was with him. “Warrior Miar Najazd—”
“Yes, let’s talk about your buddy, Miar. What the hell were you thinking, my Krol?” She smacked him again, her strength intensifying. “If you hadn’t been near death…near…”
She blinked, droplets of moisture dangling on her golden eyelashes. He reached out, wanting to comfort her. She swatted his hands away.
“I would have beat you senseless.” She hit his thighs with her small, soft palms, reddening his skin. “I am your Danielle, not anyone else’s, so don’t ever pull a stunt like that again or I’ll shoot you too.”
“You will shoot me too,” Krol repeated her words. “You will shoot me too.” Rage swept over him. “You shot Warrior Miar Najazd? He was to protect you!”
“I can protect my own damn self.” She yanked at his spicka, and his body hummed with arousal. “And I only shot him in the knee. He’s already up and walking around and being a total pain in everyone’s ass.”
“Sladky matka, my Danielle.” Krol panted, stimulated by her angry, rough strokes. “When I am fixed, I will reprimand you for your actions.”
“Is that right?” She squeezed his varles hard and he gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to spill his seed, needing to ex
tend their sex play. “Then I’d better give you more to reprimand.” She fastened her lips around his tip and lowered her mouth onto his spicka.
Krol made a noise unworthy of a warrior and he buried his fingers in her golden hair. As she bobbed up and down, he twisted his grip until she winced, and he guided her movements, ramming her face down on him over and over, his tip tapping the back of her throat. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his base, the scent of his blood flavoring the recycled fixing-chamber air.
“My Danielle.” His spicka vibrated faster and faster and his varles drew up tight against his shaft.
She sealed her lips on his shaft and sucked, clenching his varles in her palm.
“My Danielle.” He pushed upward with his hips, experiencing a release so glorious, the room darkened. Krol shot load after load of his seed into his Danielle’s mouth and she swallowed, not wasting a drop.
He crumpled on the sleeping structure, his body limp and lifeless, his cognitive functions ceasing to function. “My Danielle.” He didn’t let go of her hair, needing that connection with her.
“My Krol.” She grinned at him and lapped at his spicka, cleaning him thoroughly. “If you think I’d ever do that with your buddy Miar, you need your head fixed.”
My Danielle and Warrior Miar Najazd. Krol curled his fingers into her golden hair, clutching her to him. “You needed protection,” he explained gruffly.
“You thought you were dying.” She shook her head and he reluctantly released her. “Believe me, I understand.” His Danielle crawled up his body and lay beside him, pressing her curves against his angles. “You were in bad shape, my Krol.” She shivered, her skin vibrating against his, and his ridges rattled as he tingled with awareness. “Even Puppy was worried about you.” She snuggled closer to him.
Puppy yipped at the base of their sleeping unit, inquiring about his next nutrient replenishment, while his Danielle’s hands trembled against his neck, her fingertips pressing into a vein. Her bottom lip was devoid of old skin and bright with pigment, her teeth scraping across the plump flesh.