Page 19 of The Commander

Since she had no clothes, they returned to the base and Bastian’s apartments. He carried her the entire way, teasing her spread legs with his dick until they were in sight of the base, and she begged him to stop.

If he made that sex-harness-carrier thing, she wouldn’t survive it. The man was a menace. Reaching the apartment, exhaustion, intensified by multiple climaxes, overwhelmed her. She needed sleep. But Brenda and the others relied on her.

“You need nourishment,” he said, taking her by the hand and drawing her toward the kitchen area.

“I need fresh clothes. I ate. Remember?”

“As I understand it, humans require more calories than the eight hundred you consumed this morning. The mating has depleted you.”

“I’ve gone longer without food.” Cara held her hands over herself, watching his eyes sweep down then up, staying on her breasts exposed between the ruined flaps of the shirt.

“I have plenty of curves.”

“Perhaps. But you will keep those curves. I like curves. You will no longer go without. Sit down.”

Cara didn’t want to sit. She felt like she was breaking a promise to Brenda. Promises were tied to her self-respect. They were important.

He didn’t give her a chance to argue the point, just picked her up and sat her down back at the little table in the corner of his kitchen. It had two chairs shoved in a corner next to a double window covered with protective bomb film that darkened the room spread over it.

“How old is Brenda?”

Her name sounded funny when he said it, as if he wasn’t sure Brenda was a real person. “I don’t know.”

“Guess,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Must you argue about everything? Do I need to teach you how to have conversations with your mate? All the studies show that human females are good communicators. Why is my mate so terrible at it?” He acted out a whiny beleaguered tone that made Cara think of Andy.

“Less than two days ago you were my enemy. Now I’m not sure what you are.”

His eyelids lowered to slits over the black. “Mate. I am your mate. Answer the question. How old is this, Brenda? Older? Younger?”

Cara put her hands on the table. Was sitting really a good idea? She had to keep moving, if she didn’t, she’d sleep for two days, happily, in that clean, big bed of his in the other room. She sighed before saying, “I don’t know. Almost thirty?”

“And how long have you known her?”

“A couple of years?”

“So, she’s older than you. You have provided for her for a couple of years?”

“Provided for her?” What did he mean by that question?

“You were the one getting food.”

Cara had to think about it. She was. She always was. Even while in Springfield. They became friends one day when Cara shared her lunch with Brenda because the boyfriend at the time had lost half her portion gambling. She waved her hand, unable to explain it all. “She needed help.”

“Kitten. I have seen this pattern before. Let me explain it to you. It’s called manipulation .”

Cara sat back in her chair.

He returned her gaze with his black alien eyes. When he’d hovered over her in the schoolroom asking questions, she saw a nightmarish, demonic alien wearing a demented, hungry expression. At some point, that faded. Now, she saw someone else. Her mate? A man she understood, at least. She could read his face now, process his reactions.

He wasn’t joking. He thought her only friend manipulated her.

He might be right. Brenda always seemed to attract men who mistreated her. “Andy,” she declared with a dreamy smile, “loves me a hundred times better than the last three.”

Brenda raved about him, her eyes sparkling as she recounted their nights together, claiming he was the best in bed and gave her the most orgasms of anyone.

Two weeks later, Brenda practically vibrated with excitement; she wanted to run off with Andy to Dalewood. He was going to hand-fast her. He promised better living arrangements and easier work.

“Cara, you should join us! It’ll be amazing!”

Brenda had seemed to think that everything would be cozy and fun—Brenda and Andy would help her get settled, share meals, and even find her a boyfriend.

But Cara hesitated, nagging doubt holding her back. She liked those things and longed for them, but Andy and his friends were nothing but slime, their charm a thin veneer over something darker that Brenda, in her infatuation, didn’t see.

Then Brenda said she was pregnant. They had to go. Dalewood’s mayor was expecting Andy and the guys to help get in the tax quota. The idea lurked in the back of Cara’s mind that taking her along was Andy’s idea. He suggested it the first time. And the second time.

Bastian went to the cupboard to grab another meal for Cara. It looked like beef goulash, but one could never be sure with brown gravy. “Don’t you have anything fresh?”

“Fresh meat? I haven’t been saving any of it. Do you like fresh meat?”

There was something in his question that Cara had to clarify. He’d drunk her blood with that weird second thin tongue, hadn’t he? “What do you eat?”

He gave her an expression full of teeth, his tongue snaking out to wiggle at her.

“Whatever I want.”

He said it with such relish that Cara thought it must mean that he ate humans too. All the blood in her face dropped to her stomach with an icy dump of horror. “What do you mean? What do you really eat? This stuff?” She pointed at the plate he brought over to her.

“Take five big bites and I will tell you.” He sat down, crowding her into the corner using a chair that looked more suited to a child than it did a giant alien.

She took two bites, watching his face. Imagining the worst.

“I’m not human, my pet. I eat what I need. More bites. Bigger.” He pointed at the plate.

She frowned but did what he said. It didn’t smell good, didn’t look good, and was heavily salted. How could this be a healthy meal?

“I eat whatever I want. What I hunt. But my body does not function as yours does. I know you don’t like the smell or flavor of that food. It is shit made for humans. It will fill you. Keep you functioning. I can and do eat it when I have need. I prefer the chicken because it looks less like a sickly bowel movement. But I will not give you a false idea of me, even though I know your human ways are much different. In battle, I have eaten the hearts of my enemies, and none of my enemies are vegetables.”

He didn’t even smirk when he said it. Cara set her fork down. He was so different from her. In body. In mind. In being. She shouldn’t be here, sitting with him, eating a meal like he was more than a fuck buddy, but her actual life partner. She shouldn’t want to touch him again. Hadn’t she vowed to herself she would never give in?

She had, yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She wanted to forget about Brenda and Springfield and finish eating the slop. Return to his bedroom, curl into his amazing body heat, and nap. Her heart told her that he was one of those men Brenda claimed didn’t exist; someone who enjoyed touching, giving pleasure. A protector. He’d stand between her and the world, capable of devouring anyone who threatened her. Safe. For the first time, completely safe.

“Would you eat me?” She had to ask.

He made a face that showed off his teeth again. Another grin. “I have eaten you. You are very tasty.”

“My heart. Would you eat my heart?”

“You will never be my enemy.”

“What if something happens? What if we break up?” She didn’t know how in the world to frame the question. They’d started out as enemies. But a day later, and after lots of sex, they weren’t. She didn’t hate him. She had to force herself to fear him. She was so changed already that it was strangely difficult to imagine not being with him. Something terrible had happened to her mind. Something irreversible.

How was it possible? Was she in love after a day? Was she so lonely and messed up that an alien who tied her up, cut off her clothes, and chased her through a school was now her boyfriend? The love of her life?

This couldn’t be love. But it was something powerful.

He watched her search for more words. Pushed the plate at her as a reminder.

Taking an absent bite, she chewed. “This is beef, right? You blue guys aren’t turning humans into food and making us into cannibals, are you?”

It was a theory wankers spouted. He looked confused by the question. “There is no reason to do that. There is no shortage of edible food on this planet. In fact, there are more cattle and sheep than there are humans. The Sarria came here to farm. You know of the cornfields, the wheat? The other vegetables?” Cara nodded. She did know.

“We take our share of all of that, can consume all of that. The red hats gorge themselves in their free time on the local game, which would explain why there is none left over for humans. The deer and other vegetable eaters don’t like the smell of red hats.”

That answer made Cara ask, “The vegetable eaters?”

“Nothing likes red hats’ stink. They smell strongly of predators and tend to piss everywhere. I believe that your Mister Danov learned this and invited them to piss around your little town while they are on duty.”

“To keep us hungry, so we go back inside the gates,” Cara guessed, adding up the information.

“That’s one reason. Why don’t the rebels bother you outside the town gates?”

“Not sure. Someone made a deal. They left the old folks and kids alone until we arrived. I have to fix this. There is nothing for them.”

“Why are you the one to fix it, Kitten? Why not your friend who dragged you into this?”

Cara avoided examining it too closely. The thought of Brenda using her gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, threatening to turn the food she’d just eaten into mud.

Knowing she’d fallen for it, naive and lonely, added another layer of embarrassment.

“Does it matter what other people do? If I don’t do right by others, I lose my humanity, don’t I?”

“Do you? Is that all that makes you human?” His expression disagreed.

“One thing.”

“Why did you carry the name day blade?”

“The what?”

“The knife?”

“Oh, Andy’s knife? You asked about that before. You don’t still think I am a wanker rebel, do you?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You are my mate. But I need information about what you have been up to, little Kitten, so I can protect you against what might be coming.”

That sounded very ominous. “What might be coming? What do you mean?”

“That blade is a symbol the Sarrian will defend. That knife is connected to the enforcers—a prime battler, and no one but the owner or the dead can embrace it. Do you understand?”

Cara didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t understand. She thought it was some weird thing stolen from a museum. Paper money, credit, all the monetary things of the past had no value at all now, but humans still collected and traded for pretty things as if they couldn’t help themselves. A pretty knife with a good blade was highly tradable.

“It’s just a knife. It doesn’t do anything, does it?”

“The value is in the prime who owns it. The prime battler is valuable to our leaders, sent out to subdue, sort, and enforce. The last warriors of our kind.”

“What about the red hat guys?”

“They cannot hold the shape of a decent fighting force inside of a paper bag. The Sarrian Houses need us. Desperately.”

“I don’t understand what a metal weapon has to do with the last warriors.”

“The name day blade is a symbol of when all prime battlers fought together as one force to subdue our home planet for the great onyx goddess who birthed us into being,” he answered patiently. “That is the legacy that sings to our blood. Born to hunt. To chase. To fight. To win or die trying.”

He sounded sincere, as if he were born to kill shit and would rather die than stop. Couldn’t stop. He unwrapped himself from her, stood, and left the room; and when he returned, he wore a belt with one blade slipped into it and another in his hand.

She saw the difference between them when he held them out. One was the blade Brenda had given her, with the spiked prongs around the top she’d had a rag wrapped around, and the other had a large clear jewel that looked suspiciously like a giant diamond, surrounded by smoky smaller triangles, a curved point, and a serrated edge on one side, with a smooth sharp edge on the other.

It was the one he’d used to cut the ropes the muzzle heads tied her with.

“Control uses the blades to unite us, to remind us of who we were and who we can be. They manipulate us with a faith that no longer exists. Our purpose, our goddess, is silent. Or never existed, and we are the soulless products of our evolution. It is why I left the planet with others of my kind. I’ll never go back.”

The pronouncement was very dark, both sad and bitter. His eyes glittered with a cold, flinty anger. He put his own blade back. “Once a battler earns his blade, he can always find it. It is always with him. And Control is never without his service.”

He hadn’t taken it when he chased her in the woods, she wanted to say, in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. But he also hadn’t taken his belt, his shoes, or clothes.

Cara tried to take in what he was trying to tell her. She touched the back of his hand. He immediately flipped his and grasped hold of hers. “Those who carry a blade lead the red hats and subdue planets, making them safe and habitable again.”

She had to frown at that. This was safe and habitable. For whom? Were the aliens going to come here and live?

He tapped the frown on her lips with his free hand. “Safe for everyone. We are not colonizers. We are resource gatherers. Our planet is old. Yours was ruined. Can you say we did not help you? We have been coming here for years. Many years, letting you live your lives. All we had to do was wait.”

How did they get here from his questions about Andy’s knife? “What are you telling me?”

“It is an automatic death sentence for anyone to touch that blade. But also, since a battler is never without his blade and you were found with it, your death will be slow and painful, recorded, and distributed for all to see.”

Cara tried to hold his gaze. Was he going to kill her after all?

“I will kill them all before they make you shed a single tear,” he said with relish, his long tongue coming out to lick his lips. She wouldn’t be surprised if that were the excuse to fully unleash himself that he craved.

It was another one of his vows, meant with every fiber of his being. This alien male would stand between her and whatever came her way, no questions asked. That was a lot to take in. Cara didn’t know where to put her eyes, unable to meet such raw devotion.

“A mate has a special status among the prime battlers. You are rare. The only means of producing more battlers. I never expected to find one like you.”

The words were so tender, she couldn’t find anything to say back. Her own feelings were too big to be real. She didn’t understand the ‘mate’ thing. Sex didn’t equal a relationship. She’d seen enough people hop bed partners that she couldn’t believe in his big promises, and she couldn’t admit to anything in return.

Saying stuff like that out loud made it real.

“You have made me pathetic,” he tapped her nose. Then, for some reason, he glanced away, as if surprised at himself and embarrassed by it.

Did his skin flush a darker shade? Was that a blush? She’d have to pay more attention if so. “Pathetic? How have I made you pathetic?”

He rumbled, purposely grumbling his answer so that she couldn’t understand it.

“What?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” He waved his hand as if to brush away her questions. “What I am telling you is that I have cultivated enemies who need no motivation for my misery. I’ve been trying to give them a reason for a fight these last five years, hoping to draw them out of their boreholes and initiate a battle of value. This life would be better off without certain worms wearing the badge of Control.”

Cara yawned. She covered her mouth, trying to hide it, but she was tired and couldn’t stop it from escaping. She’d just have to push through.

His mouth kicked up at the corner on one side before he dropped his arm back around her shoulders and drew her back into himself, tipping her chair toward his. He was a snuggler.

She let the embrace happen. He was so damn warm, and his touch just felt good all over.

“You are my mate. My enemies are your enemies. They will use you against me if they can. You are in danger. You will tell me everything you know about Brenda, this Andy person, Mister Danov, and that knife.”

“I think I’ve told it all.” She repeated it again, from meeting Brenda at Springfield all the way up to getting kicked out of Dalewood for refusing to have sex with Danov or any of his goons.

Bastian leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her expression made him pause.

“Did I do that incorrectly?”

She felt heat come to her cheeks. Why was she blushing? “No. No. Yes.” Warm and fuzzy feelings tingled all through her body. “Fuck. What is wrong with me? I don’t even know you. Why do I like that? Like you?”

“Poor Kitten. Poor mate. Don’t you know? You are mine.”

“I belong to myself.” She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he’d clasped them tightly together. She couldn’t even sit up away from him. Not that she really wanted to. Not a single muscle in her body wanted to move or twitch. He supported her so well that it would be easy not to go anywhere. Fall asleep for a little nap. Right here.

“Humm. That is an interesting position to take when you know it is not true. However, it will be fun teaching you otherwise.”

“You are an alien.” The man wasn’t paying attention to the facts. She couldn’t like him. It was obviously wrong on a cellular level. Her human imperative was to fight and resist him. And she would. Later. Possibly. Right now, it seemed like a lot to ask.

“Yes. And so are you.”

“So am I? An alien? What kind of answer is that?” She yawned again, and her jaw popped.

“The correct one. Come, my tired mate. We will retire briefly, and then we must go to your town. There is much unfinished business there. I also need to deal with Control and order another troop of red hats. This last batch was defective, I’m afraid.”

“You are just going to leave that there? I’m an alien? I’m not. I’m fully human. I know who my parents were. You just can’t say things like that.” She’d closed her eyes at some point, but her brain was still working fine. What in the world had he meant by that obscure comment?

“You wish for information? Ask me nicely. Say my name.”

Her exaggerated sigh came as naturally as breathing and led right into another damn yawn. “Please, Commander Bastian, tell me what the hell you are talking about.”

“Later,” he answered succinctly. “Right now, you will rest so we can take care of other tasks.”

“But you said ask nicely.”

“That wasn’t nice.” Instead of waiting for her to stand, he scooped her out of her chair. “If you do not wish to put on clothes and keep my mind off these lovely tits of yours, that’s fine. You only need to say if you wish me to suck on them while you rest.”

She was too tired to pretend to be outraged. That actually sounded sweet. Intimate without the work of full on sex. Lifting her high enough to nuzzle her chest, he kissed her bare skin, licking with his wet hot tongue. It was like a brand on her flesh, instantly arousing.

She was tired, as he said. Not in the mood. At least she hadn’t been until he touched her and set fire to all other thoughts out of her mind.

Maybe another round of alien intercourse was worth the work after all?