by Reagan Woods
Dazed, Tara realized they were too isolated on this side of the building. No one was coming to help her. She gathered her wits and sank her teeth hard into the meat just below his thumb.
“You bitch!” He roared, pulling his bloody palm back to strike.
Tara closed her eyes, prepared for the blow. Instead, she heard a strangled squeak followed by a gurgle and she was unexpectedly free of his heavy weight.
Chapter Two
Calyx studied the cloudless blue expanse as he took a break from the monotony of his rounds. Not even the crystalline sky and fresh air could lift his spirits. Ever since Commander Vank and the Horizon disappeared a few days ago, he’d been in a shitty mood. Realistically, he knew it was survivor’s guilt that he’d lived and several of his brother Warriors hadn’t.
His hero was dead, and the ship he served on destroyed. As a result, he and his fellow displaced Warriors were rotating through light guard duties at the Earth work camps. It was laughable, really. They were glorified babysitters – not even hands-on babysitters. Really, they were monitoring the civilian Doranos all of whom were connected to important Houses in Doranos space. Pathetic. How could he earn rank and respect through acts of valor if he was stuck patrolling on a completely unresisting world?
He turned as a group of Earth females trudged past, heading in from the fields. Well, at least the scenery was fantastic. Their varied appearances made for interesting study. Some were whippet thin with long legs that undulated hypnotically as they walked. The more voluptuous ones tended to move with a charming bounce that made his hands itch to reach out and pull them close. Of course, most of these females had a long way to go to reach voluptuous status. The one exception of note was the lovely kitchen manager, Tara. His mood elevated at the mere whisper of her name through his thoughts.
The little female with eyes so dark blue they were nearly black had drawn his notice nearly a year ago. Tara had been the first Earth female he’d met face-to-face, and he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since.
Her grandmother, a wizened old female who’d been among the fort’s population, had died soon after the pair was taken into custody. He could still see the shadow of grief in Tara’s eyes a year later. But she seemed to be settling in.
When he’d earned the promotion to Commander Vank’s Track Team, he approached the Commander about giving her a good job in the camp, one that would keep her mostly out of reach of other males. With Vank backing him, Calyx had found the perfect spot for her to blossom. And blossom she had. Being back in her orbit was bittersweet.
Calyx’s feet began to carry him in the direction of the common building as if they had a mind all their own. Though it was still early, he wanted to peek in and see if she was preparing dinner – third meal - yet. Second meal – luncheon as Tara called it - had been served just a few hours before but he couldn’t contain the urge to see her. Even if she wasn’t there, something of her essence infused her domain and that little bit of her calmed him. The ruthless organization of the kitchen and the homey touch of the little garden she kept afforded insights into her character.
Tara was a nurturer. The other Earthers were gaining weight thanks to the aggressive feeding program the CGA had implemented, sure, but it was also due to Tara’s insistence on feeding them familiar, comforting food. She put a lot of thought and creativity into nourishing her people and Calyx admired her for it.
Unable to stay away, Calyx retrieved the water bucket he’d filled earlier in the day from the corner of the building and carried it toward the side entrance to the kitchens. The air in this part of this world was too dry, so he made sure to give her plants a little extra whenever he was in residence. If she knew he checked up on her, she never let on. For that, he was grateful. He had nothing to offer a female, no status with which to Claim one. It would be embarrassing to have to explain his lack of commendations to the female he wanted so badly.
The rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath his boots was the only sound he heard as he tromped the perimeter of the common building that housed the infirmary, supply depot and mess hall for the camp. Anticipation trickled through him at the thought of getting to see her lovely face again.
The main entrance was on the other side of the hexagonal structure, but there was a staff entrance/emergency exit right off the kitchen. That door, sheltered as it was from the high winds and fluctuating temperatures that characterized this part of Earth, was where Tara kept her precious hoard of plants.
“What the hell!” A female shrieked from up ahead and a liquid chill seized his heart. That was Tara’s voice and she sounded terrified. He was still some distance from her door, but his long strides ate up the ground. It could be nothing, he told himself, finally rounding the L-shaped wind break. “Help! Help! Somebody, help!” Desperation filled her voice and it spurred him on.
Color seemed to drain from his vision as cold, black rage washed over him. A Doranos male, one of the administrative team by the looks of his uniform, had Tara pinned against the far wall of the wind break. Unacceptable.
Moving stealthily closer, Calyx glimpsed terrified blue eyes bulging as the pale, long-fingered hand over her mouth and nose cut off her oxygen.
“You bitch!” The male bellowed, pulling back to strike the tiny female.
Calyx didn’t stop to think, he simply reacted, grabbing the Doranos by his hair and dragging him outside the boxed space.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The male hissed as his feet, clad in a pair of ridiculous ankle boots, scrabbled over the white gravel. He clawed at Calyx’s wrist, trying to free himself from the unnatural back bend. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
With Tara safely out of sight, Calyx hauled the smaller male up, still using his hair to control the Doranos. They were in a semi-public area and anyone that happened by would see their unseemly confrontation. Calyx couldn’t bring himself to care.
“You’re the male foolish enough to touch what’s mine,” Calyx growled in a low voice. Shoving Tara’s attacker away. He waited until the male gained his footing and did what came naturally. The sound of cartilage popping as he plowed his closed fist into the sneering face of his enemy was sweet music to his ears.
“Well, that was disappointingly easy,” he gritted as the smaller male fell to the ground, clutching his face and writhing. Using the toe of his combat boot, Calyx rolled him to his back before placing his boot over the gray-clad sternum. “This is your warning: stay away from Tara or next time I won’t be so gentle.”
He registered her soft gasp and, keeping his foot planted, swiveled to see her lush form standing uncertainly at the corner of the wind break. Her stunning eyes were glossy and there were bruises forming on her face, but she met his gaze squarely. Lifting her chin, she marched bravely to his side to stare down at her would-be attacker. “Stay out of my kitchen, Shirock,” she commanded evenly. “Don’t come back here. I’m not interested in whatever you think you have to offer.”
Chapter Three
Tara had known he was back. Of course, she had, but seeing Calyx, muscles rippling as he pounded on Shirok had pushed her over some invisible internal line. Right then, she realized how much she’d missed his comforting presence these last months. He always made her feel inexplicably safe, and if she were being honest, she’d harbored a slight crush on him. After today and the way he’d swooped in to save her - again, she knew she was a goner. Fighting her feelings for him would be a colossal waste of effort.
The rush of adrenaline that gave her the clarity to scream for help, to keep her wits about her as she was attacked, and even to rationally comprehend the emotional switch that had flipped inside her own head, was fading fast. In its place, she felt that scared vulnerability that always trickled in on the heels of near-tragedy pooling deeper and deeper. Mixed tears of horror and relief swamped her eyes, but she held them in check long enough to channel her inner tough bitch - the girl raised in government settlements and forced to work like a slave in Fort Burro - to
tell Shirock to get lost.
As the bloody Doranos stumbled away, Tara clutched her hands together tightly. This whole thing could have ended so badly.
“Th-thank you,” she stuttered, shivering in the light breeze. Without taking his predatory, slitty-eyed stare from Shirock, Calyx wrapped his large, warm hand around her upper arm and pulled her close to his chest. He was like a furnace in the suddenly chill air. The day remained over-bright, but the sun must have gone behind a cloud or something.
“He’s gone now,” Calyx growled, focusing on her. She watched the transformation from dangerous Warrior to attentive man wash over him with awe. He was really beautiful despite the strange Corian skin. He’d told her months ago – before he’d left - that the brown and cream splotches were a form of camouflage.
Careful fingers whispered over her face, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re going to have bruises. I’ll speak to someone about getting a healing wand for you – after I file a complaint against him. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No,” Tara answered, teeth chattering. “I’m j-just c-c-cold and shaken up.”
“You’re probably in shock,” he told her softly. His palms felt comfortingly warm as they chaffed up and down her back in brisk strokes. Despite the harsh turn her day had taken, Tara found herself relaxing, her forehead resting comfortably against his broad chest. How had she ended up in his arms? It felt nice to lean against him and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
“I’d like to take you to the medic, have you checked over,” his voice, soft until now, took on a sharp edge.
“N-no.” She tried to back away, wincing as she shook her head violently. “No doctors. I’ll be fine.”
Calyx held tight and went still with one hand on her lower back and the other between her shoulder blades. He frowned down at her with dark silver eyes that saw too much. “Tara, you’re not fine.” Moving his grip to her hip, he held her in place and used his free hand to probe the tender spot on the back of her head. “There’s a knot back here. You’re probably concussed.”
“I’m not going,” she snapped. The CGA quacks hadn’t done a damned thing to save her grandmother. She wasn’t letting them stick her in one of those coffin-looking regen beds. Who even knew if she’d come out alive! “So, don’t try to force me!”
“Woah, woah, woah,” he soothed, his embrace loosening but not falling away. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” Smoothly, he slid a hand to her elbow and turned her until she was tucked in tightly to his side. “Let’s go find an ice pack for your head, okay?”
“There’s probably something I can use in the kitchen,” she agreed, woozily following his lead as he pulled her behind the windbreak. It would probably be smart to sit, too. She kind of wanted to puke.
“Oh no!” Tara moaned at the sight of churned dirt and crushed leaves. Her little garden patch was ruined.
“I have you.” Calyx wrapped a thick arm around her waist as she sicked up her lunch over the trampled remains of her carefully-nurtured plants. She began to cry in earnest when she finished heaving. This day had officially gone to shit. Not even the ridiculously hot alien holding her could change that.
“All done?” He asked, face impassive as he smoothed the hair from her clammy forehead.
“I think so,” she gasped, heart heavy with weight of such senseless loss.
He didn’t waste time bundling her through the door into the industrial kitchen. This was her domain. She looked forward to each minute inside these walls as she did what she could to nourish her fellow survivors. The mix of pre-war Earth appliances and shiny alien upgrades usually gave her a sense of comfort, of purpose. Basically, the kitchen symbolized her mission in this f’d up post-invasion world. That Shirok dared to violate her safe space made her empty belly burn with anger and hurt.
“Tara…” Calyx groaned. She couldn’t see his expression through the veil of tears, but he sounded frustrated. “Ice. Where is it?”
Wiping her eyes, Tara inhaled jerkily, trying to get herself together. He probably thought she was a complete whiner. He’d done all the heavy lifting, after all. Keeping her eyes downcast, she pointed at a cold storage box. “I-in there.”
She gave a squeak as he unexpectedly scooped her up and deposited her onto a tall, silver prep counter. In moments, he returned to press a cold pack to the back of her head. “Let me see your eyes,” he demanded quietly.
Reluctantly, Tara allowed him to cup her chin and examine her. Her breath had to be nasty, but he didn’t even flinch. Though the counter added several inches to her height, she still barely reached his chest. The act of tilting her head so far back while he cradled her scalp in his icy palm resulted in another wave of dizziness. She curled her fingers into his shirt to steady herself.
“Your pupils are a bit dilated,” he breathed, small lines of concern fanning out from his alien eyes. The deep silver irises reflected her too pale, bruised face and snarled hair back at her. “I think you should return to your bunk and rest.”
“No,” she answered stubbornly. “This is my job, my place. Everyone is counting on me and now I have to re-think my whole meal plan for tonight.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Oh, she could see he didn’t like her answer by the pouty turn of his full lips, but he didn’t try and push her to change her mind.
“How well do you know Shirock?” He asked, his big hand sliding from her chin to cradle her cheek. Guarded metallic eyes regarded her intently. As his head tilted forward, a lock of dark brown hair fell across his brow.
Suddenly, Tara felt very aware of his hips pressing against her knees, of the delicious heat rolling off his big body. His unique scent filled her head and she closed her eyes to savor it. Her fingers gripped his uniform tighter on a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with the bump on her head. The musk of clean man mixed with a hint of sweat and blood from running to her rescue went straight to her lady bits. Squeezing her thighs together, she fought the rising urge to spread her legs wide and wrap them around his lean hips.
Blinking back the insane impulse, she realized he was staring, waiting for an answer. “Can you repeat the question?” She asked breathily.
Chapter Four
Calyx groaned internally as Tara’s glazed eyes locked on his mouth. Color returned to her olive cheeks in a rush. He’d heard the rumors that some Earth females couldn’t resist alien pheromones for long. Something about Earth males of battle age being poisoned by their own radiation weapons flitted through his mind. Whatever the reason she stared at him with naked lust in her eyes, he was both intrigued and apprehensive.
Flustered beneath her attentive gaze, Calyx gulped audibly. His eyes instinctively bounced around the pristine kitchen checking the swinging doors that led into the rest of the building to be sure they didn’t have an audience. Nervously, he cleared his throat and scuffed one heavy boot against the gleaming white floor. This wasn’t part of his plan to win her, but he needed to make the most of this opportunity for so many reasons.
He pulled in a deep breath, her sugary female scent doing nothing to clear his head. He was untried. That didn’t mean he was stupid. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Tara wanted him. Too bad she was in no condition to make that sort of decision. By sheer force of will, he managed to speak clearly despite the haze of need that nearly overwhelmed him. “Does Shirock have reason to believe he can just come in here and touch you?”
Her dark brows drew together. “Um. Are you asking if I have or had a relationship with that rapey asshole?”
“Well. Yes.” Calyx stroked the fingers of his free hand up over her face, enjoying the smooth texture of her skin beneath his fingertips. He was about to venture into dangerous territory, so he intended to use every tool at his disposal to keep her from pushing him away. Whether or not the rumor regarding pheromone exposure was true, it couldn’t hurt to stay close and hope his appeal would negate any resultant ire – hers – or bad behavior – his - from
this line of questioning.
“I realize your private affairs are just that, but our laws are somewhat particular in male-female relationships,” he explained. Holding eye contact, he slowly nudged her knees apart. When she didn’t protest, he moved forward until he stood between her thighs. It was a test of his control, pushing so close to her body and knowing he couldn’t have her. The mere thought of someone else, especially Shirok, putting hands on his sweet, giving Tara had him nearly blind with rage.
“If he has been welcome in your bed before,” he began but had to pause to suck in a steadying breath. His jealousy was like a living, breathing animal threatening to destroy everything in its path. Yes, it was her choice whom she spent her time with – he didn’t expect her to exist in a bubble. That didn’t mean he had to like her selection. However, he did need to respect her decisions until he could offer her a better life. He cleared his throat and pressed on, “The penalty for harassing you will be less severe than if –.”
“I just learned his name today,” she interrupted, her fingers smoothing up to rest on his shoulders. Relief swamped him even as he shivered under her caress. The female he’d spent a year obsessing over was touching him voluntarily. It was surreal and so, so heady to be here with her now despite the circumstances.
“I mean, I’ve seen him around before but this,” she paused and rapidly blinked back the tears swimming in her eyes. “Him seeking me out to hurt me like this was totally unexpected.” Her round cheeks paled, and she shuddered.
Boldly, Calyx leaned forward and skimmed his lips over her forehead. Instead of shying away, she melted against him. It gave him the confidence to pull her closer, but he didn’t press his advantage. Already, her full, soft breasts smashed against his chest, her simple black vee-neck top unable to completely contain her bounty. It was an exercise in self-control to keep his hands from tracing all her curves and exploring her secret places.