Page 64 of Holiday with the Aliens

“Can you understand me?” she asked, eyes narrowed. Subdermal translators were common across the galaxy and Stella’s could handle nearly a thousand languages. She could also speak Interstellar Common, the common language in space. But right now she spoke English, which meant he had a translator or he’d been to Earth.

The purple man nodded again.

“Can you speak?”

Arest wanted to howl in frustration at the woman’s questions. Death and decay emanated from the door and here she was trying to force him to do something he couldn’t remember. His mouth had no trouble figuring outbad, but he couldn’t manage much else.

Now that the woman was awake and facing him, he had time to study her. Unlike him, her skin was a pale beige.Human. Long dark hair fell in tangled waves over her shoulders and soulful, scared brown eyes stared at him like he might bite at any moment. Her black shirt was torn at one shoulder and it was covered in dirt. He noticed the swell of her breasts even as heknew he shouldn’t stare, some old instinct urging him to tear his eyes away.

Instead, he wanted to touch.

She cleared her throat and Arest dragged his gaze back up, startled to see even more fear. She breathed deep and pulled her shoulders back, adding to her height and somehow appearing even more vulnerable than before. He wanted to comfort her, but he forced himself to step back, to put a little bit of room between them.

The chaos of his mind was calm now and he didn’t know why. Was it this woman? Was it that he was sated from the kill? The past remained a swirling blur, but for the moment he could think.

He placed a hand on his chest. “Arest,” he said, giving her his name. “Safe.”

Her brows drew together and she stared at his hand. No, at his claws. Arest kept completely still. They were as much a part of him as his skin, and he could not hide them from her, even if he tried.

She licked her lips. “I’m Stella. Stella McDonald. From Earth. What about you?” Her eyes flicked towards the foul smelling door at his back and she pushed herself back against the wall as if she could phase through it to safety.

His mind ticked off the information. McDonald, family name. Earth, planet. And she wanted the same from him. Arest sorted through the scant memory he’d recovered, but there was nothing there. Nothing but his own name. “Arest,” he said again. “Safe.” He had no history to give her, only protection.

“Ooookay. Arest safe. Got it.” He couldn’t tell whether she believed him, but so long as she didn’t run he didn’t care.

He pointed back at the door. “Bad,” and then back down the hallway, “safe.” Then he held out his hand, claws and all. Evenwith her little light stick, the tunnels were dark and full of tricks, and he needed her close.

He needed to touch her.

Stella eyed his claws, and then her eyes crawled up the rest of his arm, pausing on the letters embedded in his skin. She snapped her gaze up to him and then back down to his arm. Suddenly self-conscious, Arest pulled back and gave her his other arm, the one covered in mud and gore from his scuffle with the creature. But Stella didn’t seem to mind that.

She stepped closer and touched his claws, rooting him in place as effectively as a chain. “What’s this?” she asked, rubbing his forearm. Mud and blood and dirt came away and revealed raised dots that Arest hadn’t noticed before. They weren’t as clear as the name tattoo, but he could trace his claw over it and spell out the word.

BEAST.

Was that what he was?

“Someone did something to you, didn’t they?” Stella asked, running her finger over the bumps. “Something very bad.”

Did they? Arest couldn’t remember. He covered her hand with his own and almost groaned when her fingers flattened against his forearm. Her skin was a little cool against his own and even though she wore more clothing than him, he was certain that he was the warmer of the two.

She needed shelter, he needed to provide it.

He wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged, even though he’d have loved nothing more than to let her touch him all day. “Safe,” he said, pulling her toward the hallway they’d come from.

Stella stared at him and then down at their joined hands. “Safe,” she agreed.

He led her back the way they’d come, his first thought to return to the chamber where she’d slept. If the doors were to open again, then they could both escape. But something in hisgut warned him he was on the wrong path. Those doors had closed for a reason and Arest doubted they’d open any time soon.

Something about this seemed eerily familiar, as if he’d been here before. And that same familiarity told him that they’d only find more trouble if they waited by their entrance.

So Arest turned away, thankful at least that he would not need to follow the stench of the rotten creature that he’d killed earlier. The smell would have only gotten worse. The caverns weren’t cold enough to halt the decay.

They walked for a long time, but Arest noted every turn, drawing a map in his mind. These tunnels were a maze, and without his keen senses, they would have long ago been lost.

Stella remained silent beside him, gripping her light stick tight with one hand and holding loosely onto his palm with the other. Arest knew he’d be able to fight better if she let go, but he would not trade the contact with her for the world. For any world.

He passed two more doors, the scents emanating from them even fouler than the one he’d stopped Stella from opening. The second door was by far the worst. Not only did it stink, the air around it moved like something hungry lived within it, just waiting for the unwary to get too close.

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