Claimed by an Alien Warlord

by Stella Dawn

  Thankfully, It seems she wants to get out of this forest as soon as possible as well. For three days, Eliana has diligently matched my pace, refusing to slow us down. Whenever we rest, she never lingers for too long, nor asks for more time. She simply sits down, nibbles at some of her provisions, partakes in a few healthy gulps of water (It caught my attention that she rarely drinks while walking, likely to avoid getting a split in her stomach). Then after replenishing her energy, she lies back, closes her eyes and falls into a half-sleep.

  The first day of traveling, she’d wake from these regular naps looking groggy and owlish. By day two, the owlishness had disappeared. By day three, she was waking up and slinging her bag back onto her shoulders like a champ.

  That severe stubbornness of hers is both admirable and adorable.

  As we finally near the colony the jungle begins to thin out and walking becomes easier. Pleased by our progress, I slow my pace and hear her swallow thickly. When we grow close enough to spy the tall wooden poles that begin the path to the village I decide a quick pause to catch our breath and clean my machete shouldn’t cause too much trouble.

  The heat has been long and heavy, even I’ve become tired of it. The feeling of wet, sweat-soaked hair is the most irritating sensation to exist. For this reason, I always keep my hair cut short. But even tied in its leather thong, I still feel it sticking uncomfortably to the back of my neck, like some kind of parasite. I resist the urge to untie the knot and comb my fingers through it, just to let some air touch my clammy scalp. But we don’t have time for such nonsense.

  To distract myself I clean away the tree sap and bits of vine clinging tenaciously to my blade by wiping it on some nearby grass. Once finished, I look over my shoulder to check on Eliana's condition.

  She stands on trembling legs, her hands gripping her knees to support her weight. Her dark hair is tied in a tight topknot and leaves her long neck in full view. The brown skin on said neck glistens with a thick sheen of sweat. Breathing heavily, her shoulders rise and fall in quick, yet silent pants.

  Eliana's reaching her limit, and she knows it too. If she allows herself to sit down now, she'll likely not have the strength to stand again.

  When her panting slows, I stride forward. Eliana does not allow much time to pass before she jogs up to walk at my side, her exhaustion hidden behind a blank expression. But when we finally reach the tall wooden gates and cross the threshold into the colony, relief slips through her iron mask of silence. Her gait quickens till she’s overtaking me in her eagerness for rest and shelter. I hear her sigh heavily and murmur, "At last," beneath her breath.

  As her back is turned from me, I allow myself a silent chuckle. Yes. I’ve underestimated Eliana.

  I don’t sigh as she does, but I do feel a tiny sliver of calm begin to settle in my chest as we leave behind the jungle. Morning had passed long ago and it was now nearing noon. The colony was not as busy during this time to avoid the hot midday sun, but a few females with their children and several males were still going about their business.

  A few that I know give me a nod of greeting when our eyes meet, but all cast curious glances at my small companion.

  Eliana, on the outside, appears unaware of the attention she’s receiving. But I've spent three days observing her silent form. With no words said between us, I've become intimate with the levels of communication her body language gives away.

  Right now, her shoulders are stiff and her fingers twitch agitatedly. Most of all, her head keeps tipping slightly in the direction of whichever observer is closest, likely to keep her view of them from the corner of her eye.

  She is very aware of the many eyes watching her every move, and she is not comfortable in the least. And yet, she still refuses to say a word to them, or to me.

  'Stubborn little thing,' I smirk.

  Stepping up, I stand between her and the crowd like a protective wall. She looks up with surprise in her dark eyes. Her blatant shock at my small act of kindness is a little insulting.

  "Come," I grunt, bringing our little game of 'who-will-speak-first' to an end. Eliana is tired and has done very well during our trip; I can be gracious enough to let her win.

  She opens her mouth to retort, then closes it. Then instead of making some kind of comment, she merely raises one eyebrow, as if to say, 'Care to add some more explanation to that?'

  Her lack of words reveals that she hasn’t been silent simply out of bullheadedness. She must be utterly exhausted. More so than I realized.

  Guilt pools in my stomach as I fully take in the sight of her small shoulders and wan face. Perhaps I have pushed her too much?

  She takes in a deep, haggard breath; my guilt increases.

  "I will sh--”, I cough. I too have not spoken much on our journey. My voice sounds low and scratchy from lack of use, and my throat feels dry and sticky as if sandpaper was misused on the insides. I cough again, but force my voice out, " I will show you where you will be staying. A small hut has been prep-prepared for you.” I choke a little on that last word, dust sticking thickly to the insides of my throat.

  She frowns deeply; it’s as if she can’t quite believe that I’m actually offering to do something nice for her.

  Uncomfortable, I look away and grouse, "Clearly, you are in need of food, rest and a bath," I look her over, "very much in need."

  I hadn't meant my comment to sound so cutting, it just slipped out that way. When I was a boy, my mother often said that I possessed the conversational qualities of a biting flea.

  My mother knows me very well.

  My words seem to stir her inner fire. Despite her exhaustion, she glares hotly and croaks, "Arse...hole. Like you...look any better." Her voice sounds even worse than mine. I shouldn’t have goaded her to speak.

  She indicates with her hand for me to lead the way. Acutely aware of the slight shake in her raised arm, I do so.

  As we walk, Eliana does not follow behind me. Just as before, she keeps up with my long strides. Even reaching the small set of stairs that lead up to the hill where her hut is built, she doesn’t waver and climbs each step beside me.

  While I admire her tenacity, the way she pushes her body to the point of harming herself disturbs me and I am hit with a sudden desire to carry her the last few steps.

  I shake my head. Eliana is here to do a job, and I am here to ensure she does it efficiently. Mollycoddling is written in neither of our job descriptions.

  We reach her hut, and I hold the door open for her. It isn't much: a modest bed, a small shower and a humble cooking area. Beside the bed are several jugs of water and a crate of food. The meagre sight does not depress Eliana in the slightest, in fact, she stares at the bed as if it’s made of gold.

  She looks up at me and says, "Thank You", sincerity shining in her brown eyes. I think that unnerves me far more than her surprise from earlier did.

  As soon as her words of gratitude pass from her lips, she marches straight for the shower room and slams the door shut.

  I laugh at her violent behavior and turned to leave, my own shower room singing my name with all the seductive notes of a siren's call.

  But one sound changes everything. From within the shower room, Eliana moans. It is a deep, throaty moan of satisfaction and pleasure, and it hits me harder than a spiked club.

  My feet freeze, I swallow. Did I hear correctly? Or was that just a groan of wood from the hut? But I hear her voice again. Quiet female moaning amidst a soft patter of shower water hitting flesh. Then her moans change into whispered gasps of: "Ohhhh’, and, “fuck, yesss," as she cleans away three day’s worth of grime from her body.

  I know I shouldn't listen to this. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach as every rule on propriety and respect extended to guests runs through my head.

  But none of those rules seems to have any effect on my feet, nor do they still the blood that's steadily rushing to my groin at the sound of her low, breathy voice. It's hard to believe the same woman who spits and breathes fire the ways she d
oes could sound so soft and inviting.

  An eternity passes before she finally steps from the shower room completely naked and completely unaware of me standing there, her exhaustion like paint smeared all over her body. Her eyes are drowsy and she stumbles as she moves towards the bed; she is completely spent.

  I’m not spying; I’m just making sure that she does not fall asleep and hurt herself.

  Unable to move, unable to speak, I watch her naked skin dripping with shower water and glowing a glossy brown. Her body during our three-day travels hadn't exactly been hidden under her sweat-soaked clothes, but even that hadn't done her form enough justice.

  She is slim. Slim shoulders, slim waist, slim fingers and slim ankles. Only her arms, legs and stomach look strong and possess some muscle. Her short stature makes her seem almost doll-like.

  She is also far too skinny. I think briefly of how she often devours her meals.

  But what draws my eyes most are her breasts. They are round and full the way a woman's breasts ought to be, and yet so much more. Hers are golden brown and are tipped with almost sinfully dark areolas and nipples, pert from the slight chill in the air.

  As her room hadn't yet been provided with a towel, she wipes the water from her body using her hands. The sight caused my cock to tighten even more.

  I've always thought myself a man with a large pool of patience. Never has the depth of that pool been tested as much as now, watching her smooth little hands gliding over her skin as she wipes water from her breasts and hips.

  My cock is rock hard and all the moisture in my throat, which hadn't evaporated over the past three days, dries up faster than a desert in a drought. I gulp, using every ounce of strength I possessed to remind myself that she is not here to breed, she is here to work. I have no business standing here; despite my body's urge to just stride over and help her get dry.

  Preferably with my tongue.

  I only glance once at the trim patch of dark brown curls gathered at the base of her thighs. Because I know to stare too long at that particular area will be the straw to finally break the Ih'il's back.

  I expect my dry swallows to alert Eliana of my presence, but she is so tired, not even this catches her attention. Usually, it would; she has a remarkable awareness of her immediate surroundings.

  Yawning deeply and throatily, she smacks her lips. An oddly adorable contrast to the sexy show she is unknowingly putting on. Then, as soon as she is relatively dry, she wraps her hair in a spare t-shirt and, without dressing, slips immediately into bed. She pulls the blanket over her breasts and sighs, curling into her pillow like a sweet child. Her eyelashes flutter a mere two times before stilling.

  Her quick descent into sleep is a bucket of cold water to my senses, reminding me how weak and vulnerable she is in this state.

  Guilt doesn’t just sit heavy in my chest; it weighs like an anchor.

  I force myself to take in a deep breath. "She is not here for that," I mouth soundlessly to myself, needing the reminder as cold, hard words on my tongue. "She is here as a hired expert in her field, nothing more." With that affirmation, I force myself to turn away.

  As I climb down the steps I bite my tongue to kill the images filling my head of my own hands sliding back and forth on her wet, slicked skin.

  How soft would she be? Like velvet? And did it feel the same when soaked in sweat instead of bathwater?

  I stop, frowning deeply and dispel the last image away from my mind with aggressive force.

  No. I refuse to go there. Eliana is not a breeder. I need to remember this. While my body's arousal indicates I would more than enjoy the opportunity, that is not her purpose.

  Conjuring the memory of the determination I'd seen in her eyes during our travels helps me to calm a little. I say quietly to myself, " Eliana is beautiful. But she is also stubborn and brave."

  Then, to my surprise, I find myself smiling softly, "She’s tiny, yet she refuses to show weakness. She’s got the kind of grit you don’t regularly find in people, even those twice her size. She is smart and deserves far more than to be stared at when she's most vulnerable." With every word, I am surprised at how true they feel. I am determined to see that she does her job without any complications or disturbances. She has proven herself and deserves respect.

  At the bottom of the stairs, some of the Ih'il people residing in huts near Eliana's have gathered. They peer up the stairs with looks of curiosity and interest. I glare, sending a message which chases several onlookers away.

  For those who remain, I say calmly, "You will not disturb her for any reason unless I say otherwise. I’ll seek out punishments for any who interfere with her work here. Understood?"

  The last of the crowd nods and finally disperse, though some young men still cast curious glances over their shoulder as they go. I stop a small boy on his way. "Call for Re'lio and Navi," I instruct him.

  The boy rushes off; I sit down on the steps to wait, using this time to calm my still racing blood.

  Not long later, I spot the twins jogging lightly in my direction. Re'lio, only a little shorter than me, has long dark blue hair shorn close to his skull. Only a fringe and two long bangs frame his angular face. This is one of the only two things which differentiate him from Navi, his identical twin sister. Her face is also angular, and her blue hair is shorn as short as her neck. The second difference between the twins is Navi is shorter, slighter and looks fragile when compared to many other females in the colony. But I trust her and her brother’s honour.

  That aside, I am also well aware of Re’lio’s stealth and how Navi's slight stature is merely a disguise for her skill with knives.

  "Sir?" Re'lio says shortly, standing to attention.

  I cross my arms over my chest, "Keep an eye on our guest," I tell them. "While she sleeps, stay in full view and ensure she is not disturbed. But once she wakes, stay out of sight and watch her from afar. Do not be seen, but remain vigilant."

  "Yes sir," then both nod once before immediately taking a stance outside Eliana's hut.

  Satisfied, I make my way to my own bed. Eliana can sleep safely with those two on watch.

  The Ih'il are good people, and all who live here are very aware that Eliana is here to do a job and for no other reason. But I have been made starkly aware that she is an exceedingly beautiful woman. This fact has not been lost on other males either.

  It is, therefore, better to take caution with her safety than to take chances.

  9

  Eliana

  I wake up and am immediately on alert until I realize I’m actually in a proper bed for the first time in days. Relaxing back on the pillows, I let my heart rate relax back to normal. I spend a few minutes trying to shake off the fatigue of one who has slept too long before I decide to actually check the time. It takes a few seconds of focus to get the numbers to make sense. The clock must not be working. I know I went to sleep at least twenty minutes after it’s showing.

  “Holy shit,” the reality hits me. I’ve been asleep for twelve hours. And I’m sure Tsunis has been laughing about it for at least the last four. “Fuck.”

  I get out of bed quickly, not bothering to make it up and start digging through to find my more insect repellent clothing. It’s so stupid. I’ve already wasted time and I had been doing so well. I think my asshole of a guide was actually starting to respect me, if not as a scientist, at least as a person. Not that I give a shit what he thinks. It would just be a hell of a lot easier to do the work if he wasn’t hanging around my shoulder insulting me the whole time.

  I’m at least as irritated at myself as I am at Tsunis but it’s easier to blame him so that’s what I do as I’m tying back my hair.

  “He could have woken me up. At any point. But no.”

  “If he says one goddamned word about how long I slept, I will slap him. I will actually slap him.”

  “We both want me out of here, so why the hell would I want to waste half a day?”

  It takes some time to get it into a high to
pknot but assuming I’m actually going to be allowed to do my job today, I don’t want it becoming any more of a mess than it already is. All in all, it only takes me about ten minutes to get ready and out the door but it feels a lot longer as I’m already several hours behind where I want to be.

  I step outside in a rush, then have to stop. I didn’t really look at the colony when we arrived so I spend a moment taking in the sight. It is a bustling place with Ih’il men and women of various species doing every sort of task imaginable. The colony is still in early stages but I could imagine it coming together within weeks. There are already several dozen small huts for housing, including mine. A small distance from the huts there are a couple larger buildings that seem to be manufacturing hubs of some sort. More of the land is cleared around that space with various resources stacked and gathered for future use.

  Looking around, it’s easy enough to see that most of the population are Ih’il men but there are some women around. There are several different species, I assume each chosen for their skill set as well their optimal breeding ability. They’re all young and strong and hardy looking, as far as I can tell. Clearly a prerequisite for life in this colony. Some are assisting the men but the majority seem to be working together at several different tasks. From a glance I pick out some organizing resources like food and tools. Another group seems to be washing and repairing clothing and still another has settled in to peel an absolutely massive pile of some sort of melon looking thing that I have never seen before.

  The men are all over the camp, in large organized groups or smaller sets of two or three. Most of them seem to be busy creating the foundations for other buildings or at work clearing more of the land. I can guess that some of the space will be for farming though I don’t know enough about their culture to figure out what they would be growing. Apart from that, the land might be for the landing pads of larger vessels. God knows they need an easier way to access this place.

  And of course, I don’t see Tsunis anywhere. The one person I actually need to be around is nowhere to be seen. A couple of the men are glancing over at me but no one has bothered to approach or greet me. Shading my eyes, I catch a pair of women looking in my direction. They seem to be working on some sort of tag-team weaving project but most importantly when I meet their gaze, they smile at me. That’s all the invitation I need and I head over to them, chin up, with an echoing smile on my face.