by Allie Marell
“On guard, Jess. And don’t give me that look. You’ve had more than enough exercise in the cold today.”
Santar watched her with keen eyes as she double locked the door with the two deadbolt keys.
“Your security system is woefully inadequate.”
“I know.” She squinted into the bright morning, shading her eyes to make out the pristine sweep and curves of snow blanketing the moors. “The cat and the dog keep triggering the alarm. It’s pretty ancient, and that tends to bring out the neighbours. So I don’t always bother.”
“Not a good strategy, with you living here alone.” He cast her a sideways look, heavy with censure.
“You’re right.” She should spend the money on an animal proof alarm that actually worked.
“So where are we going?” Well below freezing today, the air almost hurt to breathe, the icicles hanging from the barn eaves glistening in the sun. Andra rummaged around in her capacious pockets and brought out a pair of dark glasses against the glare.
“This way.” Santar set the pace, limping only when he thought she might not be looking. Should have thought of his gammy leg when she suggested he go walking. He’d recently survived some accident and needed to rest more than he needed to explore the moors.
When she faltered in the deeper drifts, he took her hand in his and hauled her after him. Half way up the path, a bright yellow hat and green waxed jacket came into view. An elderly neighbour who lived in the farmhouse further up the slope, her two dogs leaping in and out of the drifts. Only a nodding acquaintance, but Andra felt a smug satisfaction when the woman turned appreciative eyes on the imposing man holding her hand.
“That’s going to be all around the neighbourhood tomorrow,” Andra said, a note of glee in her voice. For a murder mystery author, she lived such a boring life. When people asked, tongue in cheek, if she took her murder mystery research from personal experience, she’d refer them to the skeletons in her closet. At which point they duly laughed and likely walked away wondering how such an ordinary person wrote such exciting prose.
“The female with the dogs is a gossip? I do not wish to telegraph my whereabouts. Not with my tracker still active.” Santar was staring after the sturdy woman, eyes hard and appraising.
Andra laughed, almost fearing for old Mrs Dobbin’s safety. The look on Santar’s face warned her to take this as seriously as he. She’d assumed he was home on some trauma leave, but for the first time she wondered if she really was harbouring an army deserter. If so, they could both be in for a heck of a lot of trouble.
“Mrs Dobbins is harmless. If anyone asks, you can be my new boyfriend, fresh from the army and home on leave for Christmas.”
“You think it best that I act as your partner? Your mate?” He nodded, considering. “A good plan. Then they will not suspect.”
A very good plan, she thought as the woman turned to give them another long look. Andra lifted a hand in a wave, moving closer to Santar. He stopped suddenly, dipping his head, curving his other hand around her cheek. Before she knew what he was about to do, he kissed her squarely on the lips.
And then he resumed walking, pulling her after him as if nothing happened.
“That should fuel their gossip.”
“It sure will,” she said touching gloved fingers to lips tingling from the kiss. A rather practical, matter of fact kiss, but a kiss all the same.
Damn the man. Should have slapped him for his nerve and really given the old gossip something to talk about.
They walked for about twenty minutes, the kiss, the warm press of his lips to hers turning circles in her mind. Did she imagine the small spark as their mouths touched? Did he feel it too?
Oh heavens above. What did she expect? He was the kind of stunner who left broken hearts in his wake. Who probably had women falling over him with one flash of those sad grey eyes.
She lifted a leg over the stile, almost falling into his arms on the other side. He set her on her feet and cocked his head.
“I know a weighted silence when I hear one. Did I offend you with the kiss? If so, I apologise. It will not happen again.”
“Offend me?” She touched her lips again, barely aware of the gesture. “No, not at all. It was a good...strategy to put the old biddy off the scent.”
“Then all is well.” He seemed satisfied at that and resumed walking, this time with more deference to her small stride and the steepening slope.
“Well, Mrs Dobbins didn’t look like an agent for Central...Centrum Command if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“They come in all guises. I’d be a fool to let down my guard.”
Andra smiled at his back, trying to imagine old Mrs Dobbins as some kind of super, intergalactic spy. She’d write that book one day. Peggy Martin In Space.
“Stay there, I wish to make sure we won’t be seen.”
Santar parked her in place, warning her back as he stepped with care over a snow covered boulder. A line of earlier footsteps trailed up the slope, flanked by what looked like Jess’s doggy footprints.
No wonder the dog had looked pooped when the two of them arrived back at the cottage.
The land dipped here in a deep hollow hidden by a copse of trees, their skeletal limbs white against the sky. She crept forward despite the warning, wondering if he’d maybe found some injured animal to add to her growing list of responsibilities.
Please don’t let it be that. She had enough to do.
“Come up here.” His urgent whisper drifted down the slope. Andra pushed through the snow, struggling to gain purchase on the icy slope. When she rounded the copse, she found him standing, legs apart, studying a jagged edge of crumpled metal embedded deep in the moorland peat. Closer she saw the coffin-shaped mound of snow jutting from the drifts.
A very large coffin shape.
“My pod,” Santar said, as if she should know what the heck he was talking about. “It’s not dematerialising as fast as it should. I think the extreme cold is stopping the corveralal reaction needed to...”
“Santar.” She stepped up to stand beside him, concerned at the agitation building in his voice. Santar hunkered down to scrape away snow with his gloved hand. One end had shrunk in on itself in a burned and twisted mass.
“This is what you arrived in?” Suddenly it felt important to listen to his story without judging. She owed him that much.
“This is my stasis pod. Designed to withstand forces outside the main hull, but not for long periods of time. Not the safest way to travel, but I had little choice. It’s meant to eject within a safe distance of the programmed landing area. I had no wish to leave a trail so I set it to self destruct after landing and exiting the pod. This must not be found, Andra. How can we destroy it completely?”
“We can’t.” She glanced appalled at the blackened metal, trying to imagine one of the sleek stasis tubes sci fi movie makers were so fond of. “If it’s metal, it won’t burn and even if it did, I wouldn’t risk a fire up here. There’s no way we can cut that thing up ourselves and cart it back to the cottage.”
“The cottage?” Santar turned to her. “Your barn is large enough to hide it until no longer recognisable. I can cut it up there, if you find me a laser gun.”
“What, you didn’t bring one with you?” Immediately, she regretted the harsh tone. She’d vowed to help him through this, remember? “Okay, if this thing is yours, let’s think this through logically. By the state of it, no one will imagine it’s come from outer space.”
Only then did she notice an assortment of strange looking instruments poking out from under a makeshift heap of snow. Dials and smaller pieces of salvaged metal. A curved, hook-like object and a cracked screen.
“What are those?”
“From the instrument panel,” Santar said barely sparing them his attention. “Nothing of value, none of it works. Surprisingly, the thieving Ragnow crew left me my weapon. Discharged, of course so it’s of little use to me unless you can find me a Feram Oki super charger.
<
br /> “Fresh out of them.” Where was this weapon now? Hopefully not in her house. She’d never seen the need to own a shotgun. Had no wish to turn one on an intruder, knowing she might have to fire.
“It’s in your barn,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “I borrowed your keys to stow it safely away.”
She was measuring the snow-covered cylinder in her mind, fitting it to him. A bit of a squeeze and she shivered with a wave of claustrophobia. No way would she lie there and let them lower the lid, leaving her in darkness.
She’d seen that movie.
“You are cold?”
“I was trying to imagine lying in that thing. It looks like a coffin.”
“A sarcophagus? For me, it almost was.” Santar stood and set about kicking snow over the instruments and the wrecked cylinder that had gouged a deep hole in the moorland clay. “Would it pass for an object from your world if found? I can do nothing to accelerate the dematerialisation process, but a suitable period of your Earth days should render it unrecognisable.”
“Some kind of giant snowmobile, perhaps? The burned out wreck of a car? Look, even if it’s found, no one will associate it with me or you. If you’re worried, we can come back under cover of darkness with a toboggan and some bin bags to take away as much as we can carry. I can’t promise you more than that.” She stole a quick look at her watch, knowing it was important to give him all the time he needed to exorcise the gremlins in his mind.
Oliver wouldn’t mind if they were a little late. They still had to source Santar a few civilian clothes to make him blend with the crowd. Everything about him said soldier. He was way too memorable dressed as a decorated hero.
“Come on, Santar. Oliver will be waiting.”
“Tell me you believe me, first. That you truly believe my story.” He was standing with his back to her, within touching distance. His fingers bunched into tight fists, shoulders rigid.
“I do.” She pressed her cheek to his back, not knowing how else to show he had her trust and support. He was her responsibility now and even if an aerial popped out of his head and he turned out to have webbed feet, she’d never let him down.
“How. How can you believe such a story?” So rigid, he was shaking with it. Still, she understood his need to challenge, to make sure.
Sliding her arms around his waist, she listened to the heavy thud of his heart and held him. He stood very still, waiting for her answer.
“Because I have no choice.”
She never did. If he was ET looking for a way home, then she’d get him there. When he turned slowly in her arms, his look was one of awe. Like he’d found something precious, he wasn’t about to let go.
She took off her sunglasses. Folded them and slid them into her pocket.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, willing him to dip his head and do it again. Feeling uncharacteristically bold standing there on the snow-covered ridge, beside the remnants of a space ship from the far side of the Milky Way. “It’s a Christmas tradition.”
“A Christmas tradition?” Santar cradled her face, thumbs stroking her cold cheeks with a light, whisper touch that melted her insides. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
His eyes searched hers, asking silent, age old questions while she actually quivered in his arms. If he didn’t kiss her now, she was going to rise up on the tips of her toes and kiss him.
Would he let her?
“Andromeda, I would not wish to take advantage of your kindness.”
“I’m a grown woman, Santar. You won’t be.”
The thought fleetingly crossed her mind that perhaps he didn’t want to. Was he just being polite in humouring her crazy request and the earlier kiss simply for show? Then his lips touched hers again and she was sinking into the snow, straining to get closer. Her mouth opening to his.
Just a Christmas kiss.
And then nothing like a Christmas kiss as his tongue met hers with bold, sensual strokes that set her nerve endings on fire. A sizzling heat that threatened to melt the snow beneath their feet. And then it was more than a kiss. At that precise moment in time, it was something they both desperately needed.
A small warning note sounded in her head as he lifted her, fitted her against him and kissed her like he never meant to stop. Hidden away in the country, a year of pretending she liked her own company and men were a complication that had no place in her current life and she’d become lonely. Isolated.
She never knew how much.
And Santar? Lost and far from home, clinging to her like a talisman in a strange world. He must be feeling the same.
Cold skin, hot breath. The rough sandpapery feel of stubble on his chin. The hard, uncompromising cage of his arms holding her up, demanding she stay. Santar groaned, deep in his throat, and her body responded with a shivery moan.
Pure, electric chemistry. Shocking, sudden, intense. She’d lost the ability to think in sentences. Only to feel.
“Santar,” she whispered against his mouth. He silenced her, held her tighter. Kissed her more deeply. “Santar,” she said again and this time he loosened his hold to slide his mouth to her cheek, leaving trailing kisses in its wake.
“You’re thinking,” he said, close to the shell of her ear. “Stop thinking.”
“Thinking of you.” She already missed his mouth. Couldn’t believe she was giving him an out. “This is just a reaction to some trauma. I’m a writer. I know how these scenes work out.”
“I take you back to the cottage. We couple, no rut, mindlessly and then comes the awkward silence?”
He almost sounded amused, as if he’d been here many times before.
“Something like that.” Don’t take this too seriously. You asked him to kiss you, remember?
He set her down, hair ruffling in the breeze, his eyes lit by a softer light. But he was as breathless as she, pulling the frigid air into his lungs with heaving pants.
“Does it matter?” He’d kept hold of her hand, as if she might bolt from him. Her fingers grasped his biceps, like she didn’t want to. Like he might suddenly jump into that space capsule and zoom away to the stars from which he came.
“Andromeda. Tell me you didn’t feel that.”
Oh heck, she was blushing, the heat crawling across her cheeks. She’d have had to be dead not to feel that. As she tipped back her head, her mind fought for a rational excuse, searching every dark recess in vain to find another memory of a kiss like that.
She’d never been kissed like that.
Or ever would be again, if she stepped back now and let him go.
“You know I felt it. I guess, for you...it’s always like that?”
“I know what you’re doing, Andra.” Santar moved closer and a zing of panic froze her in place. He’s good at this. I’m just one of a long line...
Oh, God, kiss me again.
“What am I doing, Santar? Tell me.”
“I’ll answer your question instead.” Another kiss. Another slow slide into a heaven she wouldn’t want to leave. Finally, he let her go.
“I’m a soldier. We live on the line, never knowing which day will be our last. We take what we can get, walk away without remorse because we have no choice.” He sighed, wrapped his arms around her and held her close, warming her with his body.
“I understand.” She tried to pull away. He held onto her, crushing her.
“I lived by that creed, but once, a long time ago, I met someone...” The words seemed to stick in his throat, like a memory too painful to relive.
“What happened?” She was calming down, her breathing returning to normal. But that one small kiss changed everything.
A bird alighted on a nearby tree, its raucous cawing cutting through the peace of the high moors. A clump of snow fell from a branch, hitting the ground with a soft huff.
“I lost her.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Life invariably goes on. I lost her, and then I found you.”
Chapter 11
Santar knows exactly what Andra sees. The same thing he does every time he looks into a mirror. A battle hardened soldier with no tomorrows. The kind of male who promises nothing but fleeting pleasure, an empty bed and a hollow aching heart.
Love had no place in Centrum Command. The order allowed only mindless rutting, more often with cyborgs or selected males and females to ease the stresses and strains of battle hardened troops. Sex was a safety valve, nothing more.
He took his release where he could and without remorse. Then he met Lina and his life priorities changed. Loving her was his first and most fatal mistake.
And when the authorities found out, she died.
They retrace their snowy footprints to Andra’s cottage hand in hand. The silence between them heavy with promise. He’d be a liar to say he doesn’t need the release. A few moments of mindless pleasure without consequence. He wants nothing more than her soft body all around him, the warm, wet feel of her.
And sweet oblivion.
But it’s more than that. The kiss didn’t lie.
Santar sneaks a look at the woman running to keep up with his long stride. He slows, realising he can’t get her back to the cottage fast enough. Knowing he needs to ease up to make sure she feels the same.
Andra’s cheeks are pink from the cold, her gloved fingers chill through the thick material. But they’re firm and sure in his grasp. She wants this too, but he needs to know that. To know for sure that kiss meant something more than pity for a lost soul adrift in a strange world.
Stopping at the cottage door, he makes her face him. She looks up almost shyly, a smile flitting in and out of her lips. Knows exactly where they’re heading.
“It’s okay, Santar. I want this.”
All the permission he needs. He takes the keys from her hands, unlocks the door and pushes her inside, securing the locks after him. Her padded coat drops to the floor and when she sits on the bench to remove her boots, he does it for her, entranced by the way she leans against the wall, head tipped back as if savouring every moment of his touch.