Page 5 of Claimed By the Alien Barbarian

Chapter 3

Kerry

An alien male had collapsed in front of me and mumbled something about murder and follower and being stabbed before he passed out.

Was it a trick? If I was distracted with him, would someone else rush across the meadow and jump me? Or maybe he’d grab me, tumble me to the ground, and do who knows what to me.

Remaining a few feet away, I watched him, gnawing on my lower lip.

Trust your instincts. Always act with caution.Words my mom had drilled into me before I turned five.A predator’s best disguise is vulnerability.

How did blood and visible wounds enter into that?

I moved around the tree, slinking into the woods behind me, where I quickly scaled the tree I’d used for this reason in the past. At about twenty feet up, I settled on an enormous limb with my feet dangling and scouted the area as best I could. Since most of the trees in this area stood at least fifty feet tall and were as wide as a small house, the thickest part of the vegetation hung higher overhead.

I watched the forest for movement.

There, about three hundred feet into the woods on my left. Was that someone carefully moving away?

After climbing down and landing silently on the crushed-leaf forest floor, I made my way in that direction. My heart fluttered like a small creature trapped in a cage and, honestly, I was scared. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t. I did all I could to keep the sound of my breathing from echoing through the area.

I located the approximate place where I thought I’d seen someone, and with a tree at my back, I waited, listening while peering around, though it was hard to see much in the filtered light of the two moons. No one moved, and I heard nothing other than purple squirrel-like creatures scampering across the branches above. Their clawed movement was much too slight for a large person like the male who’d just stumbled into my campsite.

When I didn’t see or hear anything of concern, I paced in widening circles, examining the ground. I finally found evidence someone heavier than me had traveled through this area. It hadn’t rained since I arrived, which meant I couldn’t tell if the vague footprints had been made recently or days ago. It didn’t matter if the person or beast who made them were no longer here.

I’d keep an eye out.

I circled back to the edge of the meadow where I stooped down on my heels and watched and listened once more.

No one but Molly moved, her remaining twenty feet or so away from guy still lying face-first on the ground. She stood on her hind feet, close to the bushes, clutching her front paws to her throat. Her whiskers twitched.

If anyone else was nearby, she would’ve scampered away. She’d alerted me more than once when a predator entered the area.

Rising, I hurried over to the guy.

A slice in the back of his shirt revealed a small cut there I would ignore for now, though I ripped into my robocop-provided nightie and bound a piece to his back because I had to roll him over.

Keeping my arrow notched and ready to let fly, I nudged him onto his back with my foot. He flopped there and lay still enough he could be dead; except he was breathing. A wound in his belly seeped blood mixed with pus that even my untrained medical eye said couldn’t be faked.

“Dude,” I hissed. “Wake up.” I nudged him with the tip of my boot, but he didn’t stir.

With a heavy sigh, I loosened the arrow and laid my bow on the ground close enough I could still grab it, whirl around, and shoot it. I’d practiced the maneuver under my mother’s stern gaze until it was seamless.

Stooping down beside him, I reached toward his face only to snap my hand back. He had no wounds there. His perfect features remained unmarred. Gorgeous, if I was being honest with myself, and I’d never been anything but.

Wounds. Right.Stop gaping at the handsome alien, Kerry,I chided myself.

With a careful slice of my switchblade, I cut through the ties holding his fur trimmed tunic together and parted the leather, gasping as I took in at least six wounds networking the blue flesh of his abdomen and chest. Those on his chest appeared superficial. One might need suturing—something else I could do if need be—but the rest of those would heal on their own. He’d bear scars for the rest of his life, but they’d only add to the ones etching his blue skin already.

He was a warrior, then.

But his belly wound . . . If whatever cut him had reached his intestines, he was a goner. He might be a goner even if his intestines hadn’t been touched. Few could survive peritonitiswithout strong antibiotics, and the puss oozing from the wound suggested he could be brewing an infection inside his body cavity.

He said he was stabbed, and the evidence proved it. Would the person who did it come after him again? I needed to remain on high alert.

How was I going to help him?

“I should let him die,” I told Molly who remained on the edge of the woods, peering at me. “Which I can’t do.” The thought sent fear bolting through me, which made no sense. I didn’t know him. He meant nothing to me. I grunted Molly’s way. “He’s not going to hurt you. Come on back.”

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