Page 7 of Chased by the Alien Mercenary (Monster Mercenary Mates #6)

I blinked, feeling something hit my eye, and blinked again when more flurried into my face.

Ashes. I gasped, staring in horror—suddenly, I was no longer in the cell with a feral alien man sprawled at my knees.

Gray surrounded me, a flurry of ash swirling through the air like snowflakes.

Still kneeling, I was no longer on a cold stone floor but on dirt and debris.

All around me, buildings had collapsed, gray, barren ruins and blackened frames still smoldering with fire.

“What the…” I started to say and promptly inhaled ash that clung to my tongue and the roof of my mouth, salty and greasy.

I gagged and coughed, eyes tearing up until I wiped at them with my blanket, still stained with blood from my feral alien.

There was no sign of him here. Where was here ?

I didn’t understand what had happened; instant transportation was impossible, wasn’t it?

So how had I gotten from a dark cell to what appeared to be the aftermath of a war?

Once the word “war” had risen in my mind, I saw more signs of it: bodies, collapsed and broken beneath the rubble, or burned and charred by the fires.

Everything was coated in ash, making it hard to breathe, and it was so quiet that it sent chills down my spine.

Nobody lived here—everything was gone, destroyed.

Not even carrion feeders had come to this scene to clean it up.

The skies were roiling with dark clouds, rapidly twisting and moving across the heavens in winds I did not feel. Alone, I was alone here. So very alone.

I wrapped my arms around myself and rose to unsteady feet to look around.

The ashes drifted around me, warm in contrast to the cool dirt.

The bodies were unrecognizable, but I thought they had red skin, aliens?

Was this their home world? Was it his world?

I tried looking more closely, stumbling over the uneven ground toward the closest body.

A moan reached my ears—forlorn, pain-filled, soft, and high-pitched.

My heart started racing, sorrow filling my chest for whoever had let out that pitiful sound.

Where was it coming from? I cast my head about—left, right—searching for the sound.

When it came again, I raced toward it, jumping over a toppled wall and around the charred remains of several bodies hanging out of a collapsed and still-smoldering building.

I tried not to look at their faces, tried not to see the death and despair.

There was someone alive; I had to find them.

The moan—soft, so weak—came from a pile of rubble to my left, and I hurried toward it.

Peering between the cracks and rocks for any sign, I called out, “Hang on! I’m here now!

I will get you out!” The moaning stopped.

“No, make sounds, please! I need to know you’re alive.

” I urged the person under the rock to talk, tried to cajole them into making more noise, but nothing—not even the faintest moan now.

Doubts filled me. Had I imagined it? Was I in the wrong place?

But that did not stop me from digging at the rubble as fast as I could.

I tore my nails until they bled, but I did not stop hauling rocks and planks until I’d exposed one slender wrist and a hand.

I sat for a moment, frantically searching that small limb for a pulse, and found it, thudding erratically, but there.

“I’ve got you now!” I swore, consumed with the task of getting him out—this small boy.

No older than twelve, but maybe younger, given his small body.

He was still partially covered, but when I lifted a plank, I exposed his face: white, pale features, and then he blinked, and I was staring into ruby red eyes.

My breath faltered, my mind spun with possibilities.

But then he moaned, so sad, so fearful. I forgot about his ghoulish face and macabre markings, forgot about his resemblance to a certain alien back in the cell I’d occupied not that long ago.

Instinct ruled as I shoved more rubble aside and pulled the boy free.

He clung to my arms, expression desperate, and I hummed for him like I’d hummed for the feral beast when he had nightmares.

“It’s okay,” I crooned, “you’re going to be okay.

” I blinked ashes from my eyes, stared at his small, gaunt face, and the white that marked his face like a skull.

Blinked again, and suddenly I was back in the cell, kneeling on the floor, my feral companion cradled against my lap the way I’d been holding that boy moments ago.

What the fuck? Had I just… Yeah, I must have entered his dream somehow, his nightmare.

That was him, but as a small boy. Had that actually happened to him?

I blinked, still remembering the way the ashes had stung my eyes.

It had been so real—so very real—but how was that possible?

It wasn’t. My eyes locked onto his face, bigger, sharper, more mature, and far more ghoulish, but the same too.

He blinked at me from my lap, red eyes swirling.

Ah, shit, he’s awake! I wanted to move away, but the heavy weight of his head on my knees kept me pinned, and he wasn’t moving, not yet.

This was bad, wasn’t it? I was entranced, though, trapped in his gaze.

Then his mouth twitched before pulling into a feral, wide grin that revealed sharp, narrow teeth, the kind that would shred and tear flesh.

Gruesome. Horrible. But he wasn’t moving away.

In fact, his body seemed to relax against me.

The grin morphed into something akin to a snarl, and unease skittered up my spine.

Cornered beast that he was, he was going to snap, and I had to get out of his path or feel the sting of those teeth.

My heart was pounding in my chest, my knees locked in place, muscles tight and tense, paralyzed.

The snarl became a roar, loud, vicious. His throat worked as the sound slapped against the walls and echoed around us.

I covered my ears with my hands at the onslaught, wincing backward, but I couldn’t get away, not from that.

And then something switched inside my brain: a memory surfacing of a wounded animal I’d once freed from a trap, when I’d done a piece on poachers.

“Hush,” I told him, and the growl cut off, silence filling our cell.

“That’s no way to treat a helping hand. You’re safe with me.

I’ve got you.” The words felt extremely silly coming from my lips.

I was the tiny, helpless human. I was the one trapped with a feral alien in a tiny cell.

What if he was the one who was scared, not me?

If that was his dream, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the scared, trapped boy he’d been.

When he remained quiet, lying against my knees without moving, I sighed in relief.

I couldn’t believe that worked, but there was no denying that he’d calmed down.

Now he was just staring at me. Staring at me with those big ruby eyes from beneath a heavy, bone-white brow, the rest shadowed in darkness.

He looked otherworldly, alien. A shiver shot down my spine, followed by a curl of heat low in my abdomen.

What the heck was that? This was so confusing and scary, but confusion was beginning to win out. Now what?