Page 55 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“Sholani,” Sten whispers in my ear. “No one will ever touch you again.”

I throw my arms around Sten in a crushing hug. Tears rush down my cheeks and I press my face into his chest. “You’re alive.” It’s all I can manage to say before I choke up.

Warm lips press against my forehead, a touch I never thought I’d feel again. “Open your eyes, sholani,” he whispers.

I’m afraid to look, fearing this is a dream. Once I open my eyes, I’ll wake up… alone. And Sten will be gone.

When his lips brush mine, I practically inhale him. It’s really him!

My eyes snap open to the sight of beautiful silver eyes. I’ve never been much of a crier but seeing him alive overwhelms me. Tears stream down my cheeks.

Gently, Stenikov brushes away my tears. Then he presses a finger to my lips, motioning me to stay quiet. He holds up three fingers, which I take to mean there are still three men hunting us. My hand gently brushes over the long gash on his forehead, but his kiss calms me. With one playful smile, he reassures me that all will be well. Despite the presence of three men trying to kill us, he’s not worried.

And neither am I. Sure, there’s still some fear rattling around in the back of my mind because we’re effectively trapped in the warehouse, but it’s tucked behind a giant blue wall of muscle. He won’t fail me.

When Sten holds out his hand, I eagerly slide mine in his and squeeze. I have my alien again and I’m never letting go.

* * *

STENIKOV

My sholani shakes with fear,even shock. I don’t know what happened before I arrived at the warehouse, but the moment I entered, I smelled her sweet scent. The males lied when they said she wasn’t here. And they carried weapons, more than knives. One held a blaster, an illegal weapon on Earth. Only a few aliens have permission to carry them. My fellow marshals. And me, before I lost that right.

Now, I’m left with nothing but my knives and my wits to protect my sholani. But that is more than enough.

With her hand in mine, I’m re-energized, despite the wound that’s left me dizzy. I killed the male who held the blaster at the entrance before he had a chance to draw. One knife thrown to his left distracted him, giving me the opening I needed. He fell to the ground dead, a throwing blade between his eyes. Normally, I would not kill unprovoked, but the situation required extreme measures. Criminals roamed a warehouse in which my female was hiding or captured. I did what was necessary to reach her.

The moment the male’s body dropped, I found myself up against four males all brandishing hand guns, crude weapons unique to Earth, but quite deadly. One of the bullets grazed my head as I dove for cover. The blaster disappeared. It would appear I’m not destined to use the weapon every warrior carries.

“Last chance, Birnbaum. Join, or die,” the male’s voice echoes through the warehouse, grating on me. It’s the same male who’d called out to Golda earlier and told her I was dead. I feared she’d emerge. The human intended to draw her out, or he expected me to call to her. Either way, he’d confirmed Golda was here, hiding and in danger.

Golda tugs my hand, reminding me I need to focus. Wounded or not, I have a job to do. Protect my female.

She points to a shadow on the floor at the end of the aisle, twenty feet from us. Given the angle of the pendant light hanging from the forty-foot ceiling, the shadow could be from any of the items stacked on the massive shelving unit. The shadow hasn’t moved, but I’m not one to ignore the instincts of another. Especially my sholani who is both smart and observant. And Golda works here. She knows this building.

I hold my hand up, motioning her to remain in place while I venture forth. Releasing her hand unnerves me, as I do not wish to leave her unguarded, but neither will I intentionally lead her into danger. My goal is to get her to safety, then return to arrest these males. Or, if I’m forced, to kill them. Either way, she is my top priority, and always will be.

As I near the end of the aisle, the shadow moves, confirming Golda was right. My horns tuck flat against my head as I dive and roll into the open. The movement draws his attention, but he’s too slow. Two of my knives sail through the air.

Bullets whiz by, missing me as the male falls flat on his face. My knives found their mark. One in his throat, the other in his heart.

I turn in time to see another male racing toward my sholani, his gun pointed at her.

“Down!” I yell. Golda throws herself to the floor.

To avoid hitting my sholani, I aim wide. My knife catches him in the shoulder. It’s enough to throw off his aim. With muffled thuds, bullets sink into a nearby pallet.

Seconds later, my fists connect with his head, over and over. I should kill him quickly as I’ve been trained, but I want him to suffer for trying to kill Golda and for the anguish and fear he caused her.

When my opponent strikes me in the head with a pipe, I stumble back and draw one of two remaining knives. He’s too close. If I reach back to throw my blade, he’ll hit me with the pipe, possibly knock me out. But I’m as skilled with a blade in hand-to-hand as I am in throwing.

One, two, three lunges and I have yet to connect with him. He’s an agile drekker, I’ll give him that. Repeatedly, he avoids my swings. When he swings the pipe, he knocks the knife from my hand. My head wound has left me off balance and slow. Another swing catches my left hand, stealing the last of my weapons, all except the ones the gods gave me.

The drekker grins as he slaps the rod against his palm. “After I kill you, I’m gonna have some fun with the girl before I slice her up.”

A veil of red covers my eyesight and I charge. I’m dizzy and nauseous, but even with my head bowed, I manage to keep my balance until my horns impale the drekker. Killing a person with one’s horns is a desperate move, but not considered dishonorable. A warrior will use whatever means he has to kill the enemy. And this drekker threatened my female.

The clank of the iron rod hitting the cement floor echoes through the warehouse. It’s what I need to hear before extricating my horns.

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