Page 11 of An Alien for the Future

“Thank you, female. For your help. It is more appreciated than I have words to say.”

She studies me for a moment more before she jerks her chin. “Sure thing. I couldn’t just leave you out there to suffer. We humans have big hearts. We do the right thing. We help each other.”

My lips twist slightly. “I’m not human.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Is it a good thing? I can’t quite tell.

“But you helped me anyway.”

“I helped you anyway.”

She stops so suddenly that we almost topple. When she looks up at me, there’s a hardness in her eyes that makes me briefly aware of everything between us, even every breath she takes. “Now, look here. I’m helping you because that’s what decentfolks do when they find someone hurt.” Her gaze never wavers from mine. “I’m going to get you patched up because I can’t in good conscience leave you bleeding out here. But don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”

The steel in her voice leaves no room for argument. She’s warning me. Making it clear that despite her help, she doesn’t see me as an ally. I jerk my chin slowly, a mix of admiration and wariness coursing through me. This human is far more perceptive and formidable than I initially gave her credit for.

“I understand,” I reply. “You have my word, female.”

She studies me for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of my words. Then, seemingly satisfied, she nods. “Good. Now let’s get moving before you pass out and I have to drag your scaly behind all the way to my cottage.”

I grunt a laugh, humor that never used to come easily flooding through me, as if I hadn’t forgotten how to laugh orbits ago. It's… unsettling. Pleasant, but unsettling.

As we resume our slow progress, a newfound respect rises for this human. She’s compassionate enough to help a stranger in need, yet cautious and strong-willed enough to set clear boundaries. It’s a combination that I find unexpectedly appealing.

For the first time in cycles, my sol isn’t going exactly as I intended. It’s a strange new feeling. One that sends a skitter through me. A ripple of unease.

One that makes me wonder if perhaps… I’ve stumbled upon something far more valuable than any rare ore, something that could change the course of my existence forever.

4

DONNA

This motherfucker is huge.

Even though I’m sure he’s still shifting most of his weight on his own, I can feel his bulk. He could fold himself around me and I’m sure I’d disappear.

I’m not a small woman. Never have been. Ma used to say I was built for comfort, not speed, and she wasn’t wrong. But this guy, this male, god, he’s big.

I focus on picking my way through the tall grass, sweat tickling my brow as the sun gets higher in the sky and the heat of this alien’s scales seems to burn straight through my clothes and seep into my skin.

When we get to the road and my farm becomes visible, I try to push back the thread of nervousness that shoots through me. I’m all alone out here. And now there’s a big alien male in my presence.

My gaze shifts to him as discreetly as I can as we hobble across the road. He’s not looking at me. His eyes are on the farm, and I get another prickle of awareness. I’ll send a message to Catherine as soon as we arrive. Just, you know, as backup.

Because I can feel my heart rate picking up. It’s not just from the exertion of supporting this massive alien. There’s a growingtension in my gut, a mixture of excitement and apprehension that I can’t quite shake.

I’ll be fine, I tell myself. If he tries anything, I’ll stuff a piece of bluebread down his throat and hope he chokes to death. Of course, that really isn’t a plan; it’s not even half of a plan. But I remind myself that Xarion said it’s safe out here, and even though I haven’t known him for too long, I trust the big white rabbit. Xarion said it’s safe, New Horizons promised it, and Eleanor and Catherine are safe—have been safe.

But they’re not you,Donna.They have big alien mates and you’re all alone. I push the intrusive thought away, because being alone certainly doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself. I have a slew of butcher knives in my kitchen and I know how to use them. They can do more than slice beef for stew.

“Almost there,” I say, more to myself than to him. The cottage looms ahead, and I can’t help but think that maybe that eye-searing bright blue paint job wasn’t my best design choice. It practically screams, “Hey, look at me!” It’s not that easy to forget. But I’ve never been so glad to see its weathered boards and slightly crooked porch.

Tovan grunts in acknowledgment, those yellow eyes of his still fixed on the farm. I can’t read his expression—do aliens even have the same facial expressions as humans?—but there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes me nervous.

“So…” I start. “You’ve probably never seen a human before, huh?” I try to keep my tone light, casual, as if having a hulking alien leaning on me is an everyday occurrence.

He turns those piercing eyes to me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “I…have,” he rumbles, his voice sending vibrations through my body where we’re pressed together.

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