Page 6 of Alokar (The Alliance Rescue #2)
She stood in a classic marksman’s stance, her legs planted firmly apart for stability, holding a weapon aimed directly at my chest. A rudimentary but effective Earth munition called a rifle, its polished silver barrel gleaming in the sunlight.
Her lovely face twisted into a scowl, her storm-gray eyes blazing with fury.
Even in her rage, she remained the most breathtakingly beautiful female I’d ever encountered.
I took a cautious step backward, slowly raising both hands in what I hoped was a universally recognized gesture of surrender. It didn’t help in the slightest.
Her slender finger squeezed the trigger, the explosive shot reverberating through the trees like thunder, sending startled birds erupting from their perches in a cacophony of panicked wings and squawks.
I had to give her credit for her marksmanship skills.
The bullet struck me squarely in the center of my chest. The impact felt bruising and decidedly bothersome but failed to penetrate.
Kerzak had thick skin, especially in areas like our chest and torso—extra protection in battle—that could only be breached by the sharpest of blades.
Her grey eyes went impossibly wide, pupils dilating with shock as she witnessed me standing unfelled and unharmed. She cocked the lever mechanism again, bringing the barrel up, this time aiming directly at my face, her finger already twitching on the trigger.
But my reflexes were faster.
“Stop, female!” I bellowed, my voice echoing through the forest as I lunged forward, snatching the barrel and shoving it upward so that the second bullet flew harmlessly through the dense canopy, shredding leaves and bark in its wake.
The eyes that had been narrowed in determination suddenly went impossibly wide, her full, pink lips forming a rather delightful and perfectly round “O” shape.
The rifle fell from her suddenly trembling hands, clattering against the ground as she staggered backward, with unsteady steps. “You... you can talk.”
Part of me knew I should retreat. Engage the cuddwisg device and approach her later, after she’d calmed. But I’d already made such a thoroughly bungled mess of the situation, why stop now? “Yes, female, I possess the ability to speak.”
Her eyes went wider still, threatening to consume her entire lovely face as it contorted with pure shock. “You speak English.” She took another stumbling step backward, her booted foot catching on an exposed tree root, and went down hard on her butt.
“Fuck!” I muttered under my breath, finally understanding why the human females enjoyed deploying the expletive with such relish. It succinctly expressed the complete fiasco of the last few moments.
The female’s eyes went wider still before rolling backward in her head.
With a moan, she pitched backward, sprawling across the forest floor, her slender limbs arranged gracefully against the carpet of fallen pine needles and leaves.
Tendrils of her obsidian hair had escaped the confines of her braid, creating a dark halo that framed her face.
Her bronze skin had taken on an alarming pallor, dulled with an ashen undertone that made my chest constrict with worry.
I dropped to my knees beside her, the scattered stones biting into my skin through the denim as I leaned over her body.
My fingers, trembling with the need to remain gentle, traced along the delicate curve of her skull, probing through the silky mass of her hair for any sign of injury.
The ground beneath her head was mercifully soft—a thick cushion of moss and decaying vegetation rather than the jagged rocks and gnarled roots that jutted from the earth mere inches away.
Her breathing came in shallow but steady pants, her chest rising and falling beneath the fitted fabric of her shirt, while her pulse fluttered rapidly but consistently within the pale column of her throat.
A simple faint, I diagnosed, relief flooding through my system. I’d grown familiar with this peculiar human phenomenon during my mother’s pregnancy with Jordan—the way consciousness could simply abandon the body without warning, leaving the person vulnerable and helpless.
Sliding my arms beneath her limp form, I lifted her against my chest with the same care I used with my baby sister.
Her weight was so negligible I barely registered it—she felt fragile in my embrace, like holding captured moonlight.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I remembered her earlier ferocity, the way those storm-gray eyes had blazed as she’d gotten the tactical advantage over me.
This delicate creature possessed the heart of a warrior, and the contradiction fascinated me beyond measure.
The metallic glint of her discarded rifle caught my attention, and I scooped up the weapon with my free hand, noting how its weight felt substantial and well-balanced—clearly an excellent weapon. My chest still smarted from the earlier blast.
The familiar sounds of her animal companions drifted through the trees—the soft nickering of the horse and the distinctive bray of what I now recognized as a mule.
I followed the sounds to a small clearing where she’d secured their reins to a slender sapling, the white bark scarred by the leather straps.
The horse stamped his hooves and snorted with protective alarm as I approached, carrying his unconscious mistress.
The beast’s dark eyes rolled white with anxiety, nostrils flaring as he caught my alien scent.
Thankfully, animals all over the universe, including those on Earth, possessed an innate wisdom that transcended mere appearance.
They could sense intent, read the electromagnetic signatures of emotion and purpose that humans remained blind to.
Within moments, both creatures settled as they recognized I harbored no malicious intent toward them or their beloved female.
I settled her unconscious form onto a natural bed of deep green moss that carpeted the base of a large pine.
Approaching the animals with slow, deliberate movements, I extended my hands palm-up in a gesture of peace.
My fingers found the warm silk of their necks, stroking the coarse hair that covered powerful muscles while murmuring soft reassurances in my native tongue.
The Kerzak words seemed to soothe them. Within minutes, we’d established a tentative friendship—though the mule’s responding bray sounded suspiciously like she’d called me a jackass in whatever primitive language Earth animals employed.
I returned the rifle to the leather scabbard—close enough for the female to reclaim when she awakened, but far enough to prevent another impulsive shooting. I rubbed a hand absently over my chest, noticing the rent in my shirt where the bullet had penetrated the cloth.
Shrugging off my canvas backpack, I settled cross-legged beside the female, the ground cool and slightly damp beneath me.
I pulled a small plastic water bottle from my pack and found myself grateful for the seemingly mundane human purchase.
Ripping a piece of fabric from the tail of my shift, I dampened it with the cool liquid, and began the delicate process of bathing her face with gentle, careful strokes.
The cool moisture against her skin provoked an immediate response—her nose scrunched in the most adorable fashion, creating tiny wrinkles across the bridge, while a soft moan escaped her parted lips.
Color began returning to her cheeks in faint pink blooms, and her eyelids fluttered with the promise of returning consciousness.
A decision loomed before me. I could retreat into the shadows, behaving more vigilantly to avoid another painful encounter with her marksmanship skills.
Or I could adopt pretense again and perhaps convince her to accept my companionship as we pursued quests that were more linked than she would ever know.
Shadow her in secret or walk by her side.
With a resigned sigh, I reached down and reactivated the cuddwisg device.