Challa

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

PASSION OF THUNDER

“The powerful and sensual sex scenes between Annie and Rion (in Passion of Thunder) add a deep, abounding passion to their devoted relationship. Rion’s commitment to Annie drew me to him more than any fictional hero ever has.”

Fallen Angel Reviews

Fallen Angel Reviews Recommended Read

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

LORD OF THUNDER

“I will never look at a thunderstorm quite the same again. Lord of Thunder isn’t just a play on words; it describes the main character of this fascinating new novel by Linda Mooney.

“A story of strength, determination, and love told with characters as rich as the Montana setting. Raw, intense and satisfying, are words that both describe the story and the romance. Reading Linda’s work is an escape like no other. Reading romance, always a guilty pleasure has now become a real joy!”

Renee’s Book Talk, Blog Talk Radio

“I devoured [Lord of Thunder], alternately smiling and shedding tears along the way. I guarantee that readers will want to read this book over and over again.”

Two Lips Reviews

Two Lips Reviews Recommended Read

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

MY STRENGTH, MY POWER, MY LOVE

“The premise of this Science Fiction/Romance novel caught me off guard. I was blown away and completely enamored with the idea. Linda Mooney takes you on a beautiful journey to the stars and beyond. She has a wonderful ability for writing stunningly beautiful scenes and the expertise for making an emotional connection through her characters. She is a talented and powerful writer and I highly recommend My Strength, My Power, My Love. It is a necessary read for all lovers of science fiction or romance.”

Renee’s Book Talk, Blog Talk Radio

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

HEARTCRYSTAL

“Linda Mooney has done a top notch job of world building. You get a story that will make you laugh a little but mostly it will twist your heartstrings to pieces. You may want to keep a box of Kleenex nearby while reading (HeartCrystal).”

The Romance Studio

“So if you enjoy touching futuristic romances with wonderful characters and exciting plots, then you might want to read (HeartCrystal).”

Whipped Cream Erotic Reviews

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

HEARTFAST

“HeartFast was not just a satisfying romance, it was also a mind-teasing mystery and science fiction read as well.”

Simply Romance Reviews

“(HeartFast is) Well worth the time to read - which won't be too long, as you won't be able to put it down!”

ParaNormalRomance Reviews

PNR Reviewer Top Pick

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

SANDEFLAY

“(Sandeflay is a) Great book, a definite keeper.”

Simply Romance Reviews

“Sandeflay is an absolutely stunning read by Ms. Mooney.”

Romance Junkies

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

RUNNER’S MOON SERIES

“Fantastic Sci-Fi story is the first thing that comes to mind when I tell people about (Runner’s Moon Book 3) Simolif.”

Joyfully Reviewed

Joyfully Recommended

“I recommend (Runner’s Moon Book 3) Simolif to anyone who likes his or her erotica with a sci-fi twist.”

Long and Short Whipped Cream Reviews

“Go, Ms. Mooney, Go. I am thoroughly intrigued by the species she has invented and am hooked on reading how they adapt to the human race and lifestyles (in Runner’s Moon: Tiron Book 2).”

Joyfully Reviewed

“Be warned, though. If you have not read the first book yet, odds are you will want to after reading (Runner’s Moon: Tiron Book 2).”

Coffee Time Romance

“Runner’s Moon: Jebaral (Book 1)…is an exciting and passionate romance that leaves you anxiously waiting for the next book in the series.”

Romance Reader at Heart

Top Pick Recommended Read

“Runner’s Moon: Jebaral (Book 1) is a fiery and fascinating romance novel and an fabulous account of aliens come to earth.”

The Romance Studio

Other Books by Author Available at Whiskey Creek Press:

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Runner’s Moon Book 1: Jebaral

Runner’s Moon Book 2: Tiron

Runner’s Moon Book 3: Simolif

Runner’s Moon Megabook

Sandeflay

HeartFast

HeartCrystal

My Strength, My Power, My Love

Lord of Thunder

Passion of Thunder

Wings of Thunder

Dedication

For my friends who understand

why I’d rather write than shop,

thank you.

Chapter 1

Thief

Two Years Ago

“Lawson, we got a problem.”

“Shit. What now?” Lawson Hall looked from the piss-poor sales receipts from that night’s take and tried to give his manager a minute of time he really couldn’t afford.

“Vera told me someone’s been stealing from the kitchen.”

“How badly?”

“A lot. Mostly vegetables, but it’s a considerable amount.”

A considerable amount? What would the cook call a considerable amount? “So we’re short a couple of carrots,” Lawson grumbled.

“More than a couple.” Allen handed over a piece of paper. “She made of list of what she knows we’re missing. And that’s not all. Army says we’re short several buckets of oats, plus three bales of hay that we know of.”

Lawson gave a cursory glance at the sizeable list. Vera wasn’t kidding. “Our vegetables, plus the animals’ feed? That makes three nights in a row! Think it’s the same person?” There was no way it could be one of the carny folk. In fact, he couldn’t think of one name offhand to put on his nonexistent list of suspects.

The burly blond giant gave a shrug. “Has to be. All the heists have been at night, and nobody’s seen anything suspicious. I’ve had our guys keeping an eye open, and somehow this bastard’s been able to elude us.”

“Right around showtime, too, right?” Lawson said.

“When else? This guy knows to strike when the rest of us are working the tents and booths. Hell, Lawson, we keep two sets of eyes at all times on the receipts. It never occurred to me I’d have to keep the pantry under lock and key, too. We just don’t have enough manpower to do both.”

Lawson growled softly. “Bet it’s some of the locals. Fucking kids getting their jollies screwing with us. Do we have enough to feed the livestock until we reach Baylorville?”

Allen scratched his head. “We should. I’ll let the horses do a little grazing while we pack up to help tide them over. What are we going to do about the others? What should I tell Vera?”

“Cripes. Tell her…tell her we’ll look into a little midnight requisitioning to help ease the strain. Corn’s starting to ripen. Maybe we can scrounge a few ears from a field on our way out.” He glanced again at the day’s final tally and shook his head. “If things don’t start looking up soon, we may not be able to make the next payroll, much less keep gas in the tanks.”

“Hey, summer’s coming,” the manager said with a forced smile. “You know attendance picks up in the summer.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Lawson said. “Let’s strike the tents.”

Allen gave him a salute and jogged off to instruct the others to start packing. It would take them almost two hours to load the vans and wagons, and another five to six hours for the caravan to reach their next scheduled stop.

Adding Vera’s list to the fistful of receipts, Lawson started to head for his trailer when he decided to check with Armstrong first. The man was in charge of the animals and second-in-charge of the whole production after Allen. If the thieves were making off with hay and such, Army would have a more precise list of what and how much had been absconded, the same as Vera did.

Rather than retrace his steps, Lawson decided to go around the main tent and see if Army was there helping with the dismantling. In the distance he could hear the sounds of everyone pitching in to get everything in place. It was a familiar sound, and in his mind’s eye he could envision each step being taken to put the carnival to bed. It was a routine he could do in his sleep. And in some cases in the past, he’d done just that.

Most of the personal trailers his crew used as mobile homes were parked on the back side of the main tent, out of sight from the customers. He usually parked his own bus a little closer to the front gate, to make it easier for the authorities to find him in case of an emergency.

As he walked past them, he could see where a few RUVs already had their lights on. Gina Breech, Army’s wife, was in one of them, tending their two-month-old daughter. Otherwise, she’d be out on the line with the rest of the families, helping to pack, children included. The kids were expected to pull their weight just like their parents. The only exception Lawson made to the rule were the ones too young to walk or talk.

It was nearly eleven thirty. The show had ended an hour and a half ago, which was why Lawson came to sudden stop at the sight of the shadowy figure disappearing behind Warner’s trailer. Warner was their contortionist. He was also gay. The figure skulking about had a definite feminine shape to it, so unless the guy had a sister or cousin he hadn’t told anyone about in the four years he’d been with the company, Lawson had a prowler on the premises.

His first thought was that he’d spotted one of the high school kids still hanging around to catch glimpses of some of the acts after hours. It sometimes happened. Usually a bunch of teenagers thought they could get a freebie after the shows were over. More often than not, it would be a pack of boys with no-good intentions after getting a few cans of malt liquor under their belts. Lawson Hall had dealt with their kind before. In his line of business, it was an occupational hazard.

He started to shout out to the kid and hopefully scare it away, when the shadow reappeared. Lawson froze. From the way it was standing, it was clear it hadn’t spotted him. Not yet, anyway. But if he tried to duck behind the nearest trailer, he’d be seen.

And for some wild reason he couldn’t fathom or explain, Lawson knew he didn’t want the intruder to spot him.

The trespasser was definitely female. He could see the shadowed outline of breasts. He could also tell she was slightly built. Thin, lithe, and short in stature. She was hunched over, and she looked like she was…carrying something.

Well, I’ll be damned. The bitch is my vegetable thief.

The girl turned and disappeared back the way she’d come—from the direction of the kitchen. Lawson knew Vera and her helpers would be out helping with the break down. But after discovering the break-in, he was sure the cook would have locked everything up. Still, he trailed the little carrot snatcher to see if he could catch her in the act.

He managed to stay out of sight, keeping the trailers and vehicles between himself and the intruder. Once he thought she’d noticed his footsteps. She paused, straightened up, and Lawson heard her sniff loudly several times. Satisfied she remained undetected she continued making a beeline for the kitchen.

Rounding the trailer, Lawson watched as the shape returned to the kitchen, which was actually a converted Winnie, and climbed the short steps up to the side door. He smiled, knowing the girl would try to get back in, but this time her way would be blocked by a locked entry.

He nearly pissed himself to see the girl apply a little muscle, and the sound of something crunching like an aluminum can floated back to him. She threw what was left of the lock and doorknob on the ground, pushed open the door, and stepped into the pitch-black interior.

Lawson counted to ten, realizing the girl was fumbling around in the dark without a light, but still managing to find what she wanted.

To hell with this. She’s not getting away with this a fourth time. And not twice in the same night, she ain’t!

He hurried over to the kitchen, his ears tuned for the sound of someone barking their shins against a table or cabinet, but the interior was dead silent. Weapon, weapon. He needed a weapon. Or at least something he could defend himself with. Defend yourself against what? A sixteen year old with a craving for green beans?

If anything, he could take the girl barehanded. He seriously doubted she was armed.

Memory of how she’d crushed the doorknob and lock rushed back to him. Lawson stuffed his paperwork in his rear pants pocket to free up both hands, and made a mental note to look into getting a sturdier lock in the next town.

Chances were the girl was at the far end away from the door. Vera kept the fresh produce in the refrigerators located near the front of the kitchen. Lawson approached the Winnie with confidence. The thick grass effectively muffled his footsteps.

Reaching the front steps, he took a bit more care not to make any sound that would alert the thief. He wanted to catch her red-handed.

Standing firmly in the doorway, prepared to block her only exit, he closed his eyes, then reached inside and flipped the switch on the wall.

Lawson opened his eyes as he tensed for the confrontation.

“Caught ’cha, you little—”

Stark, cold fear slammed into him. Lawson felt his body grow numb as his sanity started to slide away.

It wasn’t a girl standing a dozen feet away from him, but it was female. Other than that, she was…

Oh, dearest mother Mary, what in hell?

The creature was green. Hairless. And nude.

Her tits were rosy, and that little bit of reality made Lawson gasp as he stared at them in disbelief. His eyes dropped to where any normal woman’s thatch should be. Except in this case, she was bald. The definite cleft between her legs was further proof she was female, but other than that there was no way she could be human.

No way she could be anything except…

“What the fuck are you?”

The girl dropped her armload of squash. Yellow gourds bounced on the linoleum and rolled away. She tried to make a dash past him, but Lawson stretched out his arms to bar her way. The creature glanced around, seeking another way out, but the windows all had their shutters secured and padlocked. Unless she could call Scotty to beam her up, her green goose was cooked.

Lawson’s gaze slid to what he could make of her rump. He couldn’t help but realize that if she had been human, she would have been one hell of a sweet temptation, buck naked or not.

She feinted again. She got up on the balls of her…feet? His eyes widened. Shit, the thing had talons for toenails!

An angry hiss drew his attention back up to her face. It wasn’t a bad face, once he got past the skull cap, the green makeup, and vampirish teeth.

Another shock shuddered through him. The talons weren’t just on her feet. The ones on her fingers looked like something out of a horror movie nightmare.

No. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on her. This wasn’t a costume or any kind of get-up. And he’d bet Hollywood would be hard pressed to duplicate it.

She was the real thing. A real…alien.

The girl hissed again in another attempt to fake him out. She glared at him as she bared her wicked-looking teeth and raised her hands. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar, and if Lawson had been anywhere else, he would have turned tail and run like hell. Except he wasn’t anywhere else. He was on his own turf, and this bitch was the intruder. Lawson parked his hands on his hips and scowled right back at her.

“Give it up, whatever you are. You’re messing with the wrong person. I don’t care who you are, or where you came from, but you’ve raided your last larder. Now, before the cops arrive to cart your green martian ass to jail, tell me where you took the rest of my stuff! Cough it up!”

The girl backed off and blinked. Lawson noticed her eyes were blue. An odd color of blue, but at least they looked more human than the rest of her.

Then, to his astonishment, her bluster melted like cotton candy in the rain. The next thing he knew, her face screwed up, and the alien girl burst into tears.

Chapter 2

Blind Date

“Come on, Compton, don’t let us down! We’re counting on you!”

Compton rolled his eyes and fumed quietly. Fuck. I don’t need this! Unfortunately, Max was his best bud. The man had been there for him all through their elementary, junior high, and high school years. He had steadfastly supported him despite protests from his parents when Compton had opted to enlist less than a year after graduation. But, more importantly, Compton knew these past eight months in the VA hospital would have been unbearable without Max’s visits to keep his spirits up.

“Hey, man. What do you say, huh? Please? Kimmy has been begging me to take her to the carnival ever since she saw the posters for it. It’s only going to be here a few days. Through Sunday.” The man’s voice dropped. “And get this. Did you hear they got a real alien in their sideshow?”

“Knock it off, Max. Sideshows are major geekdom, and you know it. It’s probably some guy with a birth defect.”

“Girl, Comp. It’s female. And Rainey says she looks legit.”

“Then it’s possibly a costume with real elaborate makeup,” Compton countered.

His best friend snickered. “Yeah, most likely, but aren’t you the teeniest bit curious to see her up close? I mean sheesh! It’s Friday night! Time to let your hair down! You’ve been cooped up in that house ever since you got home from the hospital. You need to get out and get some fresh air! Mingle with humanity again!”

“I can mingle just fine without dragging around a blind date,” Compton complained. He made sure to keep his tone at mid-bitch level. It wasn’t time to cave in. Not yet. If Max knew he’d snagged Compton’s interest at the first mention of sideshow freaks, the guy would have ragged him unmercifully. At the moment, however, Max was in phase two of his game plan.

Compton sighed loudly into the phone. Yep, Max was on a roll. Worse, Compton knew the announcement of a real alien headlining the sideshow had intrigued him ever since he first saw one of the posters for himself, taped on the front plate glass window at Booker’s Feed and Seed. He opened his mouth for another weak excuse, but Max ramped up the insistence.

“If you come, I’m paying for everything. Even the beer.”

Compton nearly swallowed his tongue. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nope. Want me to text message you so you can have proof?”

“Are you on some kind of drug you haven’t told me about?”

“Cut it out, Comp. I mean it. I want us to go out and have some fun. Chug a few beers. Nosh on some of those outlandishly expensive hotdogs. Get sick on the Tilt-a-Whirl so we can throw up afterwards and start all over again. And the best part? Copping a feel inside the House of Horrors.” The man was sincere all the way. It wasn’t so much the fun Max was trying to sell. It was prying the ex-Army specialist out of his cave, and trying to reintroduce him into society.

“With a blind date?” Compton said.

“Her name’s Jeanette. She’s twenty-four, and she has a two-year-old son. She had a lousy boyfriend who wouldn’t make a go of marriage once he found out she was pregnant. She kept the baby, and now’s she trying to balance a job and a kid. She’s a lot like you, Comp, in that she never gets to go out. Who knows? Maybe the two of you will strike up a friendship! Or something more! Kimmy says Gina likes carnivals, and I remember how much fun we had going to them when we were growing up. So what do you say, amigo?”

“Who’s Gina?”

“Jeanette. She goes by Gina,” Max explained.

Rolling his eyes, Compton relented. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go. But, Max? Listen…Max?” He raised his voice to be heard over the man’s whoop of joy. “Max, no bringing up the stint overseas, you got me? Not the explosion, nothing.”

“Not a word. Scout’s honor.”

“Screw you, Max. You never were a scout.”

The man answered with a hearty laugh. “We’ll be by to pick you up around seven. See you then.” Before Compton could reply, the call ended.

Compton stared at the cell phone for a minute then threw it on the bed. A glance at the clock radio on the bedside table read a little after five. There was ample time to shower and shave, and get ready.

Groaning, he reached down to begin unstrapping the prosthetic leg.

* * * *

Jeanette was not bad on the eyes. But after the first half-hour with her, Compton knew they weren’t going to make a couple.

Max drove them to the fairgrounds located two miles outside of town. They followed the hand gestures of the attendants, and parked in the roped-off area on the grass. Once they got out of the car, they filed in along with the rest of the fair goers.

The raucous free-for-all that was the hallmark of every carnival assailed them the moment they exited their vehicle. There was also the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and something being deep fried. The growing crowd was adding to the cacophony, along with every assortment of bells, whistles, dings, and chimes coming from the gaming booths.

True to his word, Max splurged and bought them armbands, which would allow them access to every ride without having to pay for individual tickets. Compton grimaced at the neon strip of orange plastic circling his wrist. It reminded him too much of the hospital bracelet he’d worn during his recuperation.

“Hey! Get a load of this place!” Kimmy exclaimed. The multicolored lights bounced their shine off her face like a stained glass window.

“Cool! I love carnivals,” Gina remarked, giving Compton a smile. “What part do you like the best?”

“The sideshow,” Max answered for him. “We used to try to sneak in through the back of the tents when we were kids.”

“Did ja ever get caught?”

Max snickered. “Ask Comp. Tell her, old buddy.”

Compton inwardly cursed Max’s future offspring. The guy was deliberately trying to draw him into the conversation. Seeing how Gina and Kimmy were waiting with expectant looks on their faces, he managed to lift one corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Once. We were ten, I think. Nine or ten. The owners dragged us outside by the backs of our shirts and threatened to feed us to the lions if we ever tried a stunt like that again.”

Both girls gasped appreciatively. Gina covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no! Well, did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Ever do something like that again?”

“Hell, yeah!” Max answered for him again. “That was me and Comp. Always getting our butts in trouble. The kids at school used to refer to the two of us as ‘Max and his Comp-anion’.”

Among other things. The casual remark brought memories back to Compton that still rankled. In-Comp-etent. Nin-Comp-poop. Comp-lete idiot.

“…first?”

There was a pause. Compton grew aware everyone was waiting for him, staring at him.

“What?”

“Kimmy wondered where we should go first,” Max said, frowning. “Hey, you doing okay, bud?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Got caught up in some old memories,” Compton apologized with a grin.

Gina touched his arm, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Are you still in some pain? Are you needing to sit down or something?”

A flash of resentment heated his face, and Compton turned on his friend. “For crying out loud, Max! What did you tell her? You promised me—”

Max raised his hands to ward off Compton’s verbal assault. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I promised I wouldn’t bring it up, remember? And I haven’t! Honest to God!”

It was Kimmy who came to her husband’s defense. “Don’t blame him, Comp. It’s my fault. I’m the one who told Gina about you being wounded.”

“Compton?” It was Gina, touching his arm again. “Hey, I’m fine with it. Honest, I am. I mean, about you losing a leg and all,” she tried to reassure him. “In fact, I kind of think it’s sexy. You know, being a big war hero and all. Winning a purple heart.”

“Bronze star,” Compton corrected her.

“Whatever.” The woman shrugged. “I still think it’s sexy.”

“Hey, enough small talk. Let’s get into some hot and heavy carnival action. Whaddaya say?” Max playfully punched Compton in the arm. Compton drilled him with a single glance, and the man backed off immediately.

As far as Compton was concerned, the night hadn’t started off promising, and it was going downhill fast. But since they were already here, he figured he might as well try and make the best of it. At least Max had been right about one thing. The sideshow had always held a special fascination for them. “Let’s take in the freaks,” he suggested.

Max whooped. “Awright! I’m game! What about you two girls? Ready to check out the two-headed baby? Or the bearded lady?”

“Didn’t you say there’s supposed to be a real alien here?” Kimmy mentioned.

“Oh, yeah!” Max nodded. “Come on. Let’s check it out. Comp, I’ll lay you odds it’s all makeup and prosthetics.”

“As opposed to…” Compton countered. “Come on, Max. Throw me a bone. What else could it be?”

“The real thing?” Max laughed.

“Max.”

“Play fair, Max,” Kimmy warned him.

“Awright, awright. My twenty if it’s something other than makeup and a costume. Like maybe a birth defect.”

“You’re on,” Compton agreed, and the two men shook on it.

Chapter 3

Challa

Challa stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t need much makeup. She didn’t really need anything additional to pull off “Challa, the Alien Girl”…other than to be herself.

“Break a leg, Challa!”

Challa waved a taloned hand and gave the woman a smile. “Same to you!”

Marlene smiled back. “Aww, hon. You know the guys don’t come to look at some old fat chick covered in hair. They come to see you. But thanks anyway.”

Challa watched the bearded lady trundle away to take her seat in the sideshow. A quick glance at her wristwatch on the dressing table told her it was time she took her seat, too. Or in her case, her cage.

Every evening when she walked down the tarp-covered, narrow, tunnel-like corridors behind the different stations of the sideshow, it was like walking them for the first time. Enclosed and claustrophobic, they reminded her of the corridors on the spaceship. Except the spaceship never smelled like grass and earth and metal.

She reached the wall of the tarp with the number four spray-painted on it. Pushing it back, she stepped into the twelve-by-twelve interior and stopped. Sight of the enormous cage always sent shivers up her spine. However, this cage obeyed her. She had the key to let herself out any time the steel bars started closing in. At no time was she an unwilling prisoner. Not like she’d been with the Arra.

Familiar footsteps sounded down the other end of the corridor. Challa waited until Lawson came to “tuck her in”, as he referred to it. A moment later, the carnival owner stuck his head through the slit.

“How’s my girl tonight?”

She managed a weary smile. “Fine, thank you.”

He glanced around, double-checking to see if everything was in its place and ready. “Looks like we’ve got a good crowd gathering.”

“That’s good to hear,” she managed to reply.

Lawson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t sound your usual self. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I think I had a bad carrot for supper.” It was an old joke between them, ever since that night when he accosted her while she was robbing the kitchen trailer. A lot had happened between then and now. She flashed him another quick grin. “I’ll be okay. I’ll sleep in tomorrow to catch up on my rest.”

The man’s frown deepened. “I keep telling you, Challa. Stop all those late-night jogs you take. One of these days you’re going to get caught, and it won’t be by someone who knows you’re with the show.”

She averted her eyes, knowing he was right. But she lived for those runs in the deepest part of the night. The carnival kept to the small towns and cities, always setting up camp just outside the city limits to avoid breaking any ordinances. In almost every case there was a small wood or patch of undeveloped land nearby, studded with trees and undergrowth. She’d spend hours taking in the raw, wild landscape. Savoring it as only she could. Letting all the scents and textures of the area seep into her bloodstream. For when she was in the woods, she could imagine she was home…almost.

Memories of her real home were nonexistent, and the stories she’d been taught were more like dreams than actuality. She hadn’t been born when her parents were abducted by the Arra. And when she was born, she was immediately taken away from them. Challa had grown up a prisoner and a slave, nothing more than a commodity, until others of her kind revolted and escaped the Arran ships. They’d spent two years floating aimlessly through space before landing on Earth, where they separated to seek a new life and the chance for a future.

Challa fought back tears. She had survived, but ever since landing, there had been very little that made her happy. And that included her stint working as “Challa, the Alien Girl” for Lawson Hall’s Carnival and Sideshow.

“Sorry, Lawson, but you know I can’t help myself. I’ll try…I’ll try not to stay up so late when I go, okay? And I’ll stay in seeing distance when I run.”

The man grunted instead of replying, and disappeared. Coming from Lawson, it was not an approval, but rather a reluctant acceptance of Challa’s uniqueness.

Adjusting her lightweight, specially-made bodysuit that blended almost seamlessly with her coloration, Challa took her position on the floor in the corner of the cage. Curling up, she bowed her head to hide her face, preventing the crowd from seeing it when the curtains opened.

Outside she could hear the noise increasing. Lawson was right. It was a good crowd tonight. In fact, it was a good crowd every night, practically. Ever since she and Lawson came to an understanding, and he offered her a job as one of the sideshow attractions, business has been brisk. No, correction—business has been nothing if not booming.

“You’ve single-handedly saved the carnival, Challa,” Army once told her. “We all owe our jobs to you.”

That may be, but who is going to save me?

Charlie checked in on her. “I got dibs tonight, Challa.”

She nodded, and the young man vanished. Because of the way she was promoted, the carnival often saw its share of curious onlookers with something more than looking on their minds. She’d even had stuff pelted at her through the narrow bars. Taunting was inevitable, as were the scathing remarks of disbelievers. That didn’t bother her. But when someone took it upon himself to try and climb up on the stage to approach her directly, that’s when Challa’s survival instincts took over.

Usually, all it took to dissuade the obstinate customer was a full-throated hiss, the sight of her needle-shaped teeth, and a warning swipe of her five-inch talons. But there had been that one time in one of the thousands of small towns where they’d set up shop when one customer didn’t take the hint. Either he was soaked to the ears in alcohol, or something else had fueled his unstoppable intent to peel the costume off of her, and prove she wasn’t a real alien.

Thank goodness Lawson had been able to bail her out before she’d inadvertently revealed her true self to the sheriff and everyone else at the county jail. But ever since then, Lawson had someone assigned to run crowd control, to prevent a customer from trying that kind of stunt again.

Tonight, Charlie would be her front man. Dear, sweet, six-foot-four, and three hundred plus pounds, the eighteen year old was the son of Gerald McCarthy, a.k.a. Iron Man Mac. The Strongest Man in the World, who also incidentally won a bronze medal in weightlifting at the summer Olympics in China.

Challa grinned. Nobody crossed Charlie. Nobody.

The noise swelled. She heard the telltale swoosh of the curtain parting. Following that, the two overhead spotlights came on, illuminating the interior of her cage. She could feel their heat on her back.

The illusion was very realistic. A captured alien being held behind bars of steel. It made for great drama when it came time for her to make her move.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow proudly presents…Challa, the alien girl!” Lawson announced her himself. It was the only job he let no one else take over. The man could be on his deathbed, and he’d find a way to crawl out of it to do the show.

“Take a look, everyone, but please keep your distance. She’s dangerous.”

“She’s fake!” someone yelled, and the crowd laughed in response.

Lawson continued, unaffected by the catcalls. They were expected. “You’re welcome to your own opinion, sir, but we here know better. Just as we know better than to get her riled.”

That was her first cue. Slowly, Challa began to unfurl herself, slowly stretching as if awakening from sleep.

“Hey, how much of that camouflage paint does she go through in a week?” another voice chided.

Challa answered the man’s question by lifting her face and staring directly in the direction where it had emanated. Several people gasped. A few stepped back. Their terror began to cloud the air with the scent of something burning.

The music began. Another cue. Slowly, she rose to her feet, keeping her hands behind her back. When she was certain everyone’s eyes were on her face, Challa opened her mouth and hissed.

Several people screamed. A few men initially jumped, then chuckled to cover their embarrassment. It was all part of the show she’d performed for the past twenty-three months.

Her eyes searched the sea of faces turned up at her. She needed to find one patsy to focus her attention on. Make the crowd believe she had taken a personal interest on him. Have them believe she would love to rend him to shreds if she ever got out of this cage.

In the back of her mind, she took notice of the age groups represented. It was the normal young adults, the high school kids and college bound. The closer Lawson parked near a small branch campus, the more they’d see of them. Tonight looked like that kind of crowd. There was a smattering of older couples. And a few sets of daring parents with school-age children. Challa kept searching; time was getting tight. Her whole performance never lasted over twenty minutes, and already she could sense she was starting to stretch it.

“She may be slight in stature, folks, but she’s a mean one,” Lawson announced. He turned to give her a warning look, reminding her to keep to the timeline.

She hissed again, keeping her face tilted toward one of the spotlights so her teeth gleamed. Taking a menacing step toward the bars, she ignored the taunts that were coming again. Fortunately, no one had thought of hurling anything at her other than words.

There. That one.

Her eyes caught sight of a young man wearing a football jersey. He was bulked up, and looked like someone who considered himself both a top jock and prime ladies’ man. He also wore a smirk of conceit that always rankled her whenever she saw one.

Without warning, Challa threw herself at the bars, hitting them more with her claws than with her body. Lifting her hands to show her formidable talons, she gave a scream and drew the sharp tips down the metal bars until they screeched like nails on a blackboard. More people jumped, several more screamed. The taunts suddenly stopped, as she knew they would. Before the crowd could recover, she lifted her arms and opened her wing flaps. All the while, she never took her angry gaze off the smirking jock, who finally realized her attention was directed straight at him. So did others in the crowd.

“Stand back, everyone! Someone in here has ticked her off big time!”

Challa shook the cage, reaching between the bars and clawing at the air as if she was trying to get to the man. Several people hurried away. That was a good sign. Most of the crowd still left backed further away. Many turned to see who was the target of her tirade. The jock’s face had gone bleach white. All braggadocio was gone, as well as the smirk.

Lawson finally saw her intended, and milked the scene for all it was worth. “Sir! Sir! What did you do? What have you done? Get out of here, now!”

The young man lifted his arms in confusion, shaking his head in denial that he’d done anything to tick off the alien. Lawson played his next hand with consummate skill.

“Did you say something to her? Could it be your aftershave? Something about you has upset her to the point where your life may be in danger! Go! Security! Please escort that young man to the parking lot immediately! There is no telling if these bars can hold her!”

Charlie left his post in front of the low stage and made a beeline for the jock, who didn’t argue or try to shake off his firm grip. When they exited the tent, so did the rest of the crowd—as was expected.

The moment the tent emptied, Challa drew back from the bars and took a deep breath. That was show number one. Her introduction to the locals. Word would spread about the “almost breakout”, and tomorrow night the crowd would be bigger. Noisier. More curious. And then she would put on show number two.

Her chest felt sore. Challa glanced down at herself. She must have hit the bars a little too hard. It wasn’t the first time she’d end the night with a few bruises, and it wouldn’t be the last. If anyone cared to investigate, the bars were real. The cage was real. Challa, the Alien Girl, was also real, but if the world ever learned that last fact, it would mean the end of her.

Heavens, she was thirsty. The heat generated by the lights and packed bodies always left her parched. The floodlights remained on, but there would be no more peeks at her tonight. Lawson knew how to stir the crowds, keep them in a frenzy. Give them a little taste now so they’d come back for a second bite. And a third. And a fourth, if the carnival remained around the vicinity that long, but he rarely stayed longer than a weekend. In on a Friday, out by Monday. But if the take was steady and good, Lawson would extend their date by a couple of extra nights.

She glanced around the cage, but there was only the prop bucket with its fake bloody entrails hanging out of it in the corner next to the stage. Sight of the bucket always made her laugh. However, there was no sign of the bottle of water that was usually hidden under the straw near the door at the back of the cage. Lawson must have forgotten to stash it.

She started to leave the cage and tent when she sensed someone standing in the shadows at the rear. Thinking it might be one of the customers who’d managed to sneak back inside she launched herself at the bars with a snarl.

The figure didn’t jump, nor did it make a sound. Instead, it moved closer, limping slightly, until it reached the periphery of light, and she could gradually make out the features.

It was a man with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. He had a perplexed look on his face, a face that Challa felt herself drawn to. It spoke of intelligence and maturity, not the kind of look she normally saw on a high school student or even college man. Yet, at the same time, she could see shadows of deep emotional pain.

He carried himself erect despite favoring his right leg. His whole figure radiated strength and confidence. He was a man who had gone through stress and horrors, and survived. Just like her.

He took another step toward the cage. His eyes raked over her, his head tilted slightly at an angle, until they locked back onto her face. Silently, they remained staring at each other until the man finally spoke.

“Are you real?”

Challa started to answer when a faint scent wafted over to her. She sniffed, stunned, then took another longer sniff. To be certain. To erase any doubts.

Her knees buckled. Before she was aware of it, she collapsed in the straw. Her trembling hands gripped the bars as her mind screamed the impossible truth she’d never expected to experience in her lifetime.

The man smelled of sweet, tangy lemonade. And the only other being in the universe who would throw off that scent was the man her body had chosen to be her equal. Her other self.

Her destined life mate.

Chapter 4

Compton

A dozen steps past the sign that read, in bold lettering, Lawson Hall’s Carnival and Sideshow, and Compton Scott felt as if he was ten years old again. All the games were as he remembered them: sharpshooting; ring toss; penny ante; hit the milk bottle. From where they stood to get their bracelets, in the distance he could see all the familiar rides looking exactly the way he’d left them: Tilt a Whirl, the Octopus, House of Horrors. Except they looked like someone had slapped a fresh coat of paint on them. They also looked less sturdy than they did nearly fifteen years ago.

Max led the way toward the sideshow. The girls were right behind him, arms linked and heads together as they giggled and talked. Compton mentally shook his head. Girls would always be girls, no matter what their age.

As they approached the sideshow tents, along with what Compton felt had to be half of the carnival crowd, he caught sight of the huge, wall-sized posters advertising what was to come. There was the obligatory strong man, a bearded lady, Beverly the Smallest Woman in the World, and a contortionist available for viewing in tents five through eight. Compton checked the other side of the mall. Tents one through four held a snake charmer, GiGi the Turtle Woman, a sword swallower, and Challa the Alien Girl.

“Hey, Max!” Compton pointed at the other side when his friend turned around. “That alien you’re wanting to see is on the other side.” Max nodded and led them in the other direction.

If anything, the crowd was thicker in this area. Or maybe it was Compton’s imagination. The barker appeared from inside the main tent and climbed up to a small podium.

“Welcome to Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow! Here, you will see the unbelievable! Witness the indescribable! Learn what few men will attest to, and what is the truth! So step right on in, everyone! But hurry! We have limited room, and can accept only a limited number of tickets!”

A few steps below the podium another man accepted cash from people already starting to file inside. Compton gave his friend a nudge. “The sideshow is an extra fee.”

Max snorted. “Figures.” He looked at the two women. “You two coming with us?”

His wife smiled sweetly back. “Just try to leave us behind.”

Shrugging, Max moved forward to shell out for the tickets.

Compton found himself mentally drifting as they filed from one tent to the next. Even though the snake charmer was nearly nude, and the python had been trained to do acts that were alarming, if not distasteful, he couldn’t seem to get into the mood. Gigi the Turtle Woman was nothing more than a hunchback woman with a very rare skin condition that gave her skin its reptilian effect. He was impressed with the sword swallower, but it was the alien girl they’d all paid to see, Compton concluded.

As they walked into the last tent, he sensed a fresh energy in the place. Excitement permeated the air, along with everyone’s expectation. Max leaned over to whisper, “Every person I’ve talked to who’s seen this girl swears she’s the real thing.”

“That ought to make the show worth its money.” Compton grinned.

“Damn right.”

The lights dimmed prior to the show beginning. The barker from outside stepped to the front. “Ladies and gentlemen! Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow proudly presents…Challa, The Alien Girl!”

The curtains parted, and immediately two Klieg lights came on overhead, nearly blinding the crowd. Once his eyes adjusted, Compton saw a huge cage had been erected in the room. The floor of the cage was covered with hay, and a bucket bearing what appeared to be animal entrails sat in one corner. At the opposite end, a small shape huddled in a ball. It appeared to be tense, waiting, expectant. Compton tried to move closer, but the crowd was packed too thickly.

“Take a look, everyone, but please keep your distance. She’s dangerous.”

“She’s fake!”

The yell came from his left. Frowning, Compton sought the crowd, looking for the culprit as the crowd laughed in response. He didn’t like hecklers. Never had.

Several people gasped, drawing his attention back to the stage. The alien girl was awakening, and she had a pissed expression on her face. She scanned the crowd, and in the microsecond when her eyes met his, Compton saw tears. Real tears. And without a doubt he knew the woman was unhappy. As she got to her feet, Compton mentally took a step back, detaching himself from the current situation and becoming a critical observer, rather than a participant. His brain and his body obeyed instinctively, well trained and well adapted for similar situations after so many years in the military.

He watched as the alien woman lunged at the bars. He scanned her body, looking for seams, buttons, or zippers—anything that would tell him it was a costume. But the lighting was too bright and too intense, preventing him from gaining any insight.

People screamed at her repeated attempts to reach them. Several began to leave the show. Compton shifted his gaze over to Max and the girls, but they had been among those who had retreated.

The barker continued his spiel about watching out for the alien girl’s temper. One of the young high school kids was singled out. Compton stepped further back to give himself more room to observe.

The temperament of the crowd went from frightened to distressed. Security began clearing out the tent. To his right Compton found a seam in the makeshift wall where the edges of two tarpaulins hadn’t been sealed properly, and he slipped between them, out of sight while the tent was being evacuated.

The place grew quiet. Still. Presently he could make out the alien girl moaning softly. She was in pain, but he couldn’t tell if it was an emotional or physical pain. Not until he saw her.

Even with his artificial leg, Compton managed to ease out of his hidey hole and walk around the corner to where the cage was located. The moment he reentered the area, the girl heard him and looked up.

Their eyes locked, and once again Compton swore he saw a deep sadness flicker across her green face. He advanced slowly. The cage was real, and so were the bars, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t easily escape from it.

There were too many questions clouding his mind. Who was she? How did she get here? What would entice someone like her to do something like this?

Was she wearing makeup or a costume? Were those talons real? Were those thin, membranous wings stretching from her wrists to her ankles real? Were those her real teeth?

Before he was aware of it, he spoke aloud his most pressing question. “Are you real?”

The girl never took her eyes off him as he approached. Neither did she hiss or growl, or make any move to lunge at him. Compton noticed her nostrils flaring, sniffing the air like an animal. Then, suddenly and without warning, her face paled to a pasty neon green, and she slumped into the hay.

Alarmed, Compton rushed forward until he reached the edge of the stage. He started to swing a leg onto the chest-high platform when their eyes met again, and all the air rushed out of his lungs.

They were blue, a very deep, dark blue, but with strange purplish flecks glittering within their depths. And they were filling with fresh tears.

“Hey, you! Stop!”

The barker had returned, catching him when he was about to roll onto the stage so he could check on the alien girl. Instead, Compton backed off, raising his arms in surrender.

“Sorry, sir. I got lost trying to leave the tent, and ended up back here. That’s when I saw the alien fall.”

The barker looked over at where the girl remained hunched over. Her eyes never left Compton.

“Charlie, would you escort this man to the exit?”

The security guy Compton had seen standing guard in front of the stage was back. Giving the alien girl one final look, he thanked the barker and followed the man named Charlie out of the tent, where Max and the girls were waiting for him.

“Hey, Comp! Where have you been? We were starting to get worried.”

“Sorry. I got turned around in there.”

He glanced back at the sideshow tent one last time. Charlie remained standing at the exit, in case Compton changed his mind. Too bad Max and the girls were still here, or else Compton would have.

As he trailed behind the others who were gunning for the main part of the carnival where the rides and food booths were located, Compton knew he would be returning. He had to. He had no choice.

He had to find out why the alien girl affected him like she did.

More than that, he had to find out why the hell he cared.

Chapter 5

Run

Where is he?

“Are you sure you’re okay? Damn it, Challa! What happened out there tonight?”

Challa raised a hand to ward off Lawson’s angry, insistent questioning. “I told you. I’m fine. You didn’t leave me any water up there, and I got dehydrated!” she lashed back, hoping he wouldn’t hear the quivering in her voice.

Where did he go?

“Do I need to get Doc over here to check you out? Fuck this! You’ve never fainted like that before!” Lawson was persistent, if not irritatingly smothering when it came to her welfare. But Challa could understand. Army had been right. Without her, the carnival would have been dissolved years ago.

“Answer me, woman!”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t get Doc. You know every time he prescribes something for me to take it makes me sicker, throws my metabolism all out of balance. I’m not human, Lawson! You know that!”

They were yelling at each other. It was becoming more frequent now. Maybe her being here was no longer the godsend the man had thought she’d be. After all, she wasn’t one of them, wasn’t like them, and she didn’t think like them. What’s more, Challa had her own mind, shaped as it was after years of captivity and servitude.

What is his name?

Growling softly, Lawson crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. Turning away from him, Challa looked down at her wristwatch still sitting on the makeup counter where she’d left it. The man must have read her mind.

“No. You’re not going out running tonight. I forbid it.”

Her temper flared, and she whirled on him. “You forbid it?” As soon as she’d said the words in that tone of voice, Challa backed down. She’d learned very quickly that Lawson always won the battle when he faced adversity. On the other hand, soft promises and wheedling usually helped her get her way. Challa bowed her head and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, Lawson. But I have to go. I need some fresh air. I need to run. I…I can’t think straight.”

I can’t think of anything except the man who smelled of tart lemonade.

“I won’t be gone long. I promise. But I’ve got to go. I have to run, and you know that, Lawson.”

“How do I know you won’t just keep on running?”

Challa sighed. It was an old argument. Whenever she most needed to get away, whenever she felt the overwhelming burn to run, he always hit her with the same question.

“I will return, Lawson. I promise.”

The man relented. He knew she never broke her word. Saying she promised was as good as cuffing a chain about her ankle, and he accepted it.

Except she didn’t promise to stay nearby. Challa held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t tag that part onto her deal. Instead, he tossed his head and gave a little exasperated noise, turned, and walked out of the tent. The moment he was gone, so was she.

* * * *

Max and the girls hung around the carnival until closing time. Compton relented, not wanting to cause a scene between himself and Max. But Max would put on a tirade if he knew Compton had lost all interest in the carnival. All interest, except for the green-skinned woman in tent number four.

As was to be expected, Max had chugged too many beers. The girls weren’t as badly off, but they definitely couldn’t be trusted behind a steering wheel, either. Which left Compton to do the honors and get everyone home safe and sound.

As it was Max’s car, and Max had picked him up that evening, Compton chose to leave the vehicle in his friend’s driveway and walk the three miles back to his place. Even with the artificial leg, three miles was nothing compared to the hikes he’d been forced to take during boot camp, and later when he was on assignment.

Besides, the trek gave him the chance to think things out. Relive those brief moments in the tent when it had been just him and the alien girl.

Challa.

Those Klieg lights had been torturously bright. Still, he’d managed to make out a lot more detail in her face and head when he’d gotten up close to the cage.

She’s the real thing. She’s the real honest-to-God thing!

The mantra kept repeating over and over in his head as he strode along the edge of the road. She’s the real thing! She’s the real thing! She’s the real thing!

And suddenly he was a ten year old all over again. His stomach was in knots. His imagination was revving into overdrive. A million questions were racing around inside his mind, all vying for one of the golden tickets which meant they would be asked the next time he saw her.

The next time…

Compton paused in the roadway. Blanton Road ended at a dead end. Somebody’s property lay on the other side of the barbed wire fence. Strother Road T-ed Blanton. If he took a right on Strother, it would lead him out of town, toward the carnival. Left would lead him—

“Fuck this,” he mumbled, turning right.

The city limits sign was at the end of Strother. There, the road became FM 309. In the distance, Compton could see the carnival lights. The rides had been shut down, but the clusters of smaller individual lights from the knot of trailers and vans were visible.

The night was warm. The waning half-moon overhead gave him just enough light to keep him from stumbling around in the dark, and from accidentally ending up in the ditch bordering the road.

Compton pressed the stem on his watch to check the time. It was just past eleven thirty. Everyone would be in bed by now. What did he plan to do once he got there? Hell, he didn’t know what trailer she was in. What did he hope to accomplish by going back to the carnival?

He continued down the roadway. What the fuck are you doing?

“I want to see her. Talk to her,” he answered aloud.

Why?

Hell if he knew. All he could swear by was the fact that it was like some kind of invisible rope had been tied around his waist, and someone at the other end was reeling him back to the carnival, slowly and inexorably.

A breeze rustled the trees. Barbed wire fences bordered the road on both sides, and untamed land lay on the other side of the flimsy barriers. The humidity made his t-shirt cling to his body, but it didn’t bother him. Compton had faced far worse conditions.

The exercise felt good. He loved walking the country roads. He loved the summery smells of the fields, and the sounds of crickets and other insects calling out to each other. Off to his right a handful of fireflies blinked at each other, reminding him of a time when he and Max would capture them in a jar, then poke holes in the lid with a screwdriver.

The breeze rustled the trees again. The road took a bend to the right, and the carnival disappeared momentarily from sight. Compton kept his pace steady and even. He didn’t fear anyone coming up on him unexpectedly. This was America, not a foreign country where Americans were despised. Country folk and small-town people looked out for one another, especially families who had their roots here.

His eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, enough to where he could see a mailbox standing on the side of the road to avoid walking into it. Large shapes moved beyond the fence line—cattle settling for the night.

The road swerved back to the left and Compton jerked to a halt at the figure standing in the middle of the road not a dozen yards away. Instinctively his hand reached for his waistline, as if to grasp the handgun he no longer wore since his medical discharge. But the ingrained survival mode remained, and would always remain.

At first he thought it was another fellow like himself taking a midnight jaunt down a dirt country road, until the figure moved, graceful and flowing, like an acrobat underwater. It drew nearer, yet for some unexplainable reason, Compton no longer feared it. He waited patiently. Expectantly.

It’s her.

Deep in his gut, he knew it was the alien girl.

The figure took a few steps toward him. Not down the road to pass him, but directly, unerringly in his direction.

And then he saw them. Her eyes. Those strange yet beautiful blue eyes with purplish flecks that appeared to glitter with a light all their own.

Compton started. She could see in the dark like a cat. The realization made her appear all the more otherworldly.

One more step and she was close enough for him to see she still wore that odd bathing suit garment that ran from around her neck, over her small breasts, and down between her legs. It was made not to hinder her wings when she unfolds them.

He opened his mouth to break the silence, not expecting her to speak first.

“Who are you?”

She had an accent. A pretty thick one, but not enough to keep him from understanding her.

“My name’s Compton Scott. You’re…you’re Challa?”

“Why are you on this road?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he answered back automatically. Was it his imagination or was she wearing perfume? Whatever it was, it was coming from her and not from the vicinity.

She hesitated, and he took the moment to take a step toward her. Challa kept her ground, to his relief.

Tell her the truth, Comp. Tell her the truth. She’ll know if you’re lying to her. She’ll be able to tell.

How do you know?

Man up and talk to her. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

“I’m on my way back to the carnival,” he admitted, carefully watching for her reaction. Strangely, she didn’t seem surprised.

“To see me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Compton frowned. “Why are you out here…alone…you are out here alone, aren’t you?” He glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else was behind her, but the stretch of road looked clear as far as he could tell.

“I’m alone, yes. I…I was heading for town.”

“At this time of night? Nothing’s open. Cooper rolls up its sidewalks after five, except for the A and P. It’s open until ten.”

Her face wore a confused expression. “What’s A and P?”

“It’s our local supermarket. You weren’t…you weren’t heading in to get something from the market, were you?”

The girl shook her head. “No. I was heading into town to try and find you.”

Compton felt the blood rush to his extremities. It was suddenly difficult to breathe without inhaling the gentle fragrance of…

…honeysuckle.

She was wearing honeysuckle.

“Me?”

He started to ask more when the sound of vehicle coming down the road interrupted them. Headlights crossed the two-lane and aimed in their direction, heading toward town.

Without thinking, Compton rushed to her and dove for the ditch on the opposite side where the car wouldn’t see them. Challa gasped in surprise but didn’t fight his hands as he pulled her down into the grass and dirt.

The station wagon trundled past them and continued on. The driver hadn’t seen them. Or if he had, didn’t care that he’d nearly run them down. Compton waited until the sound of the engine faded before helping her to her feet, and leading her back onto the road.

A minute passed, then two. His hand remained holding her upper arm, with its soft, warm firmness. Mere inches parted them, and Compton noticed how the top of her bald head was even with his chin.

The honeysuckle smell was stronger. As a boy, he had often sat under a thick canopy of the flowers, pulling the stems from the petals so that it revealed the tiny droplet of sweetness inside. A sweetness so strong in his memory, he could still taste it on his tongue.

Would she taste like honeysuckle if he licked her? If he…kissed her?

“That was Lawson, looking for me,” she finally said, looking up at him.

“Who?” God, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t glue two words together at this point, she was so intoxicating.

This woman. This…alien.

“Lawson Hall. He owns the carnival. I promised I wouldn’t stay out too long. I have…I have to go back.” She continued to watch him. Waiting to see what he would do, what he would say.

“I want to see you again,” he finally managed to murmur.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Just tell me when?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find some excuse.”

His eyes took in her appearance. “You’d go into town looking like this?”

Her face broke into a smile, and Challa laughed lightly. The effect was mesmerizing. “No. I change into my human self to go into town.”

I change into my human self to go into town.

Christ, she really is an alien?

Compton started to ask her when she pulled away.

“I have to go. I have to be back before he returns.”

Giving him one last look, Challa turned and jumped the fence, disappearing into the tall brush. Leaving him feeling both confused and overwhelmed as the provocative scent of honeysuckle dissipated in the night air.

Chapter 6

Discovery

The hours moved at a snail’s pace. Compton tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep before the next day. Unconsciousness eluded him. Sleeping pills didn’t help, either.

His brain continued to argue with itself. She’s an alien.

No, she’s a woman in an alien suit.

No, she’s really from outer space.

She can’t be! Aliens don’t exist!

Compton made an angry sound and sat up on the side of the bed. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. Despite all the uncertainty, one thing was undeniable. Her skin was softer than anything he had ever felt before in his life. Softer than anything he could think of. Softer than the sheets on his bed. Softer than the most delicate cloth.

And her smell, her scent. He sniffed, and the absence of her perfume disappointed him.

He still couldn’t get over the fact that she had traipsed through the fields, hoping to find him, when she had no idea who he was or where he lived. How did she think she was going to find him? Ask directions from passing motorists? And while wearing her alien get-up that would scare any sane person who met up with her in the dark? It was a miracle they had come across each other.

All the more surprising was the subtle movement of his dick. Taking in huge, deep breaths, Compton stared down at his crotch in fascination. He would have sworn his libido had died years ago. No, correction. He had forced it to be dormant after the constant ridicule and harassment he’d suffered while growing up. His libido didn’t truly die until his transport encountered that RPG, which also ended up taking his right leg as well as his manhood. Or, at least part of his manhood. What little was left was enough to allow him to function as a human. It was the sex part that was no longer an option.

As if it had been an option in the first place.

Now, all of a sudden, the strange young woman with the purplish-blue eyes had brought that part of himself to his attention. His body was reacting every time he thought of her. Every time he saw her in his mind’s eye, his dick began to quiver and lengthen when he recalled those dozen or so seconds when they stood so close together, their bodies nearly touching.

He had almost kissed her. Subconsciously he’d wanted to. He realized now that he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. Kiss her. Then rip that costume off of her so that he could see what she looked like underne—

Compton started. Challa said she’d be in town tomorrow, but he had no idea what she looked like. How the hell was he supposed to recognize her without the costume and camouflage makeup?

I change into my human self to go into town.

She had been joking with him, and he’d misunderstood her. He’d been too hornswoggled to recognize it as such because his pea brain had been arguing with his common sense over the fact that she could really be an alien.

He snorted. What an idiot I am. How could he have been such a geek as to entertain the possibility that she was an alien? An alien, for crying out loud! What kind of Star Wars mentality did he have? Compton, for that bit of stupidity, you really do deserve to be called a nin-COMP-poop.

All right. It was time he faced the facts. He’d found a woman who finally made his johnson sit up and take notice. A woman from another town. A woman who didn’t know his past or his history, which meant she wasn’t already prejudiced. She was willing to see him again, and that accounted for something, didn’t it? His only problem was…

“Fuck.”

One problem at a time, Comp. Take it one problem at a time, the same way you relearned how to walk with your prosthetic. One step at a time.

“All right, dickwad. Let’s say I see her again. Let’s say we hit it off, and she gets hot for me. What am I going to do? What will I tell her? Show her what’s left of the goods and give her a few minutes to make up her mind?”

As if there would come the time when that would happen. She was with the carnival. Their last show was Sunday night then they would be packing up and heading out for the next town. Compton checked his mental map. Which direction were they heading? North? East? The next decent-sized town after this one was Spurlington. Unless they went south. Then they’d hit New Georgetown. New Georgetown was a sizeable town, and included a junior college where he’d spent one semester before enlisting.

“Tough luck, Comp. You finally find someone who might turn out to be the woman of your dreams, and you get all of two nights to be with her, if that much.”

Two nights. Hell, didn’t Romeo and Juliet have only two nights together?

Compton threw himself back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Yeah, well, let’s say that they did. What of it? Romeo didn’t have parts of his body blown off by a rocket powered grenade.

He slammed a fist into the mattress. Wouldn’t you know it? He finally found someone he might have a halfway decent chance with, and she would be gone in a less than three days’ time.

That seemed to be his lot in life. Close, but still a miss. Always a miss.

His luck hadn’t changed. Not one fucking iota.

Chapter 7

Human

Lost cause or not, Compton went the extra mile to look his best. Pressed pants and shirt, buffed shoes, and a shave, and he felt like the new Compton Scott all over again.

A quick check of his wallet revealed at least forty dollars. It would be another eight days before his next check came in, but life was reasonable where he lived. Date night was cheaper. A movie at the Star Theater, followed with a bite to eat afterwards at Sammy’s Bar and Grille, was rarely more than a couple of sawbucks.

Compton often joked to Max that time had bypassed Cooper around 1979. With few exceptions, it probably had, much to his relief. All he could think about during his recuperation after the explosion was returning to the small town that rolled up its sidewalks at five on the dot, with the exception of Thursdays and Saturdays when select places stayed open until ten. That, and Sammy’s, with its unbeatable french fried onion rings.

Driving into town, Compton quickly scanned the sidewalks. Main Street here was named Webern Avenue as long as he stayed within the city limits. Nearly every business and shop lay along Webern. The town hall, post office, and library sat one block off. No matter which direction one took to come into town, it wasn’t hard to spot newcomers and visitors.

There were a couple of trucks and cars he didn’t recognize offhand, but that didn’t mean much. People here often went into the big cities like Dohlman or Brakesport to buy their new vehicles or to go shopping at the mall. Otherwise Cooper had about everything one could need, which suited Compton just fine. As a born-and-bred country boy, he felt most at ease in what city people referred to as “hick towns”. No matter what the argument, life here was slower, less stressful, and a lot more forgiving.

Traffic through town was heavy, since it was Saturday, as well as the middle of the day. Still, Compton managed to find a parking space in front of New Castle’s Coffee Shop. It was two doors down from the hardware store, and he needed some new hinges and a roll of screen to fix the back door on the porch. If he was going to wait around to see if Challa showed up, he figured he might as well try to fit in an errand or two while he was here.

The purchase didn’t take long. Coming out of the store, he glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty, lunch time. Compton frowned. You know, the least you could have done was say something like, “Hey! How about meeting up around noon?”

Too bad hindsight was twenty/twenty. Challa may not show up until later in the day. Or, for all he knew, she may have been here first thing in the morning, and had already left.

“Shit.” Now what?

He threw his purchase into the cab and closed the door. As soon as he slammed it shut Compton caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Normally, he wouldn’t pay much attention to the view, considering the subject matter. A glance overall to make sure he didn’t look like a total goof, and that was normally the sum of his inspection.

But it wasn’t his own face that made him freeze in place. It was the redhead standing on the sidewalk across the street, behind where he was parked. The redhead who was wearing a smile and a black and white polka-dot sundress, and who was staring directly at him.

Big, crawly things began to squirm inside his stomach. Slowly, Compton turned around to stare back at her.

Oh, dear God in heaven.

He’d always believed he had a weakness for blonds. He was happy to correct that misconception.

Her hair was long. Thick, long, and a dark, shimmering reddish color he could no more attach a similar color to if he had to. Not fire, not scarlet, not vermilion, but a combination of all the shades in the spectrum. She had it pinned back at the temples, but it flowed down her back and arms like a shawl.

Challa checked the street to make sure no cars where coming, then stepped down and crossed over to where he remained standing in open-mouthed awe. The closer she got, the more he couldn’t believe that a woman as radiantly beautiful as her would have given him a third or even fourth glance.

“Hello, Compton.”

It was her. There was that accent again. He’d heard it last night, but never really paid much attention to it. He’d been too preoccupied over her sudden appearance and the sensation of the unexplainable bulge growing in his pants.

“Ch-Challa?” He continued to stare at her face, at the creamy smooth complexion and dark pink lips. And those eyes with their blueish-purple color.

She laughed softly, revealing perfect, pearly teeth, not the needlelike teeth she wore when she was in costume. “Did I surprise you?”

“Boy! I’d say you did.” He grinned back. “Have you been in town long?” He noticed she wasn’t carrying anything. A small black handbag was slung diagonally over her shoulder, leaving her hands free.

“Not quite an hour. I was hoping I hadn’t missed you,” she confessed.

“Same here. I should have suggested a time to meet.” Compton tried to suppress his growing nervousness, but he couldn’t help it. He could count on one hand how many serious relationships he’d had in his life, none of which amounted to anything more than a few kisses and gropes.

The blast from a passing car made him jump. Tom McVicar waved as he headed out of town. Compton waved back at his closest neighbor before turning back to her.

“Look, have you had lunch yet?”

Challa shook her head. A length of fiery hair slid down past one breast, and the tip curled seductively where Compton figured her nipple would be. At the thought of her nipple, he could feel a part of himself begin to awaken as if it had been lying comatose for many long years.

Best get your butt parked in a booth somewhere quick, Compton, before you embarrass yourself.

He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m starved. Would you like to join me for a bite over at the Grille?”

“I was hoping you’d invite me,” Challa admitted.

“Great!” Grinning, Compton pointed in the direction of Sammy’s, and they walked back across the street side-by-side.

Half of the people in Sammy’s knew Compton. They glanced up as he passed them by, guiding Challa in front of them. Compton greeted them in return, knowing he would get the third degree the next time they saw him alone. Seeing Compton with a woman was news. Seeing him with a woman as mysterious and lovely as Challa was probably newsy enough to make the weekly newspaper’s gossip column.

They found a booth in the back. It was near the kitchen, but it was as close as they could get to having any privacy. Besides, the other side of the grill was closer to the bar and restrooms—not a particularly pleasant area to be in no matter what time of day it was. An old Jimmy Dean song was playing. Compton’s ears picked up on it, having grown up hearing the same tune being played on his grandmother’s antique eight-track player. Challa sat with her back to the crowd; Compton took his seat facing her. Almost immediately Patty was there with two glasses of water and two menus.

“Hey, Compton. Glad to see you decided to come out of hiding,” the older woman teased him. “What can I get you two to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” Challa told her.

“Same here,” Compton said.

Patty gave him a wide-eyed look. “What’s with you, Comp? Gone on the wagon?”

Compton felt the muscles in his face go rigid. Maybe bringing Challa to Sammy’s wasn’t such a good idea after all. “It’s noon, Patty,” he told the waitress.

“Yeah, and it wasn’t too long ago—”

“Patty?” Compton gave her a half-pleading, half-irritated look. Fortunately the woman took the hint.

“I’ll be back in a few to get your order.” She tucked her pad and pen back into her apron pocket and walked away. Compton watched the woman leave when Challa spoke up.

“You’ve lived here all your life?”

The softly spoken question quickly redirected his attention. She had her hands curled around her glass of water, and in the iridescent lighting she had an almost ethereal glow about her. The purplish sparkles in her eyes seemed to shimmer, or maybe it was his imagination.

“Yeah. Except for my tours of duty overseas, this has been my only home.” He opened his menu and tried to concentrate without much luck. He wished he’d sat next to her, sharing the same seat. But then he would have gotten a crick in his neck staring sideways at her.

Challa lowered her head over her menu and seemed to repeat part of what he’d said, but he couldn’t be sure. He got the impression she was melancholy, and he remembered her unusual accent.

“I take it you’re not from around here,” he said, trying to sound like he was teasing. The truth was he was dying to learn as much about her as he could without appearing to be too nosey.

Pretty sad, Comp. Almost twenty-seven years old, and you haven’t the foggiest idea what to say on a date, or how to go about saying it.

Worse, his pants were starting to grow tighter about the groin. The faint scent of honeysuckle was lingering in the air between them, enticing his dick with its irresistible siren’s call. Compton fought the urge to sniff it aloud.

“I’ve only been here for a little more than seven years.”

“Oh! Well, guess that explains the accent,” Compton chuckled. “Can I ask what country you’re from?”

Challa shrugged. “You’ve never heard of it. Barandat.”

“Barandat? Is that in Europe?” His mind searched for any reference to a country by that name, but came up empty. From her accent, it sounded faintly middle-European, maybe Slavic. He was disappointed when Challa shrugged again.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about it, other than I was born after my parents left there.”

“But you just said you’d only been in the States for seven years.”

“I have.” She nodded and took a sip of her water. “My parents moved around a lot when I was growing up.”

A flash of sadness crossed her face. Seeing it, Compton wondered if her folks were still alive. He started to ask her when Patty returned to take their order. Once the waitress left a second time, Compton crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward slightly, for no other reason than to hopefully catch that honeysuckle scent he was quickly becoming addicted to. Too bad the smell of fried foods and burgers was starting to mask it.

“Where do your folks live now, Challa?”

Another veil of sadness fell over her face, and this time Compton already knew what she was going to say.

“They’re dead. They…died…before I got here.”

Without thinking, Compton reached over and took her hand with one of his, squeezing it gently in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Challa. I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”

She shook her head once and wiped away the tears with her free hand. “Don’t apologize, Compton. Comp.” She smiled at him. “Why do some people call you Comp?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“But it’s not your real name.” She pointed out the fact as if she couldn’t understand why people would call him something that wasn’t his full name.

“No, but I’d rather they call me Comp instead of some of the other names that used to be thrown at me when I was in school.” He watched as a very puzzled expression came over her flawless face.

“What other names?”

All right. Now they were smack in the middle of uncomfortable territory again, and Compton found himself wondering how he was going to ease out of it. Giving a nonchalant wave of his other hand, he said, “It doesn’t matter. That was years ago.”

The hand he was holding was cool, the skin as silky soft as he thought it would be. But he also detected strength.

“You know, you’ve never told me your full name,” he countered.

“Challa Heela Doon.”

“Challa Heela Doon. Challa Doon. How unusual.”

Doon? As in D-O-O-N-E? Scotch-Irish, and the red hair, and it would start to make some sense. Too bad the accent wasn’t from that region. The mystery around her continued to grow.

“Challa, how long have you been working at the carnival?”

“Almost two years,” she admitted.

“Wow. And all that time as an alien girl?”

Again, that strange, sad expression darkened her face. He tried to change the subject. “How did you land a job at the carnival, if you don’t mind me asking?”

This time when the shadow darkened further, Compton realized a very real and shaky truth. Challa had a past that was as painful, if not more painful, than his own. Maybe that’s what had drawn him to her. Maybe his soul recognized a like soul who had suffered in ways that left permanent scars on the psyche.

Easy, Comp. Take it easy. Quick, back off from grilling her about her past and her family, and change the topic to something less offensive before you blow it. Compton agreed with the voice this time.

Good idea, but change the topic to what?

Blank and tongue-tied, he tried to find a safer conversational road to travel when Patty arrived with their order. Giving the waitress a smile of gratitude, Compton made a mental note to leave a nice tip when they left.

Chapter 8

Lessons

Challa had been watching him since he pulled into the parking space and exited the truck. Her eyes remained glued on the man, studying him, spotting the little nuances and gestures that defined him as he glanced around before entering the hardware store.

He had a definite limp in his right leg, which meant he’d suffered an injury of some sort. Other than that, Compton didn’t appear to be any different from all the other men she’d come across.

Seeing him in full daylight, she felt that hard little knot in the pit of her stomach begin to loosen. In the time she’d been traveling with the carnival, she had seen a lot of men. A lot of men. Most of them remained at arm’s length, ogling her, throwing words at her meant to degrade or denigrate her. Or sexually excite her, if she was to believe what Marlene told her. It didn’t work. Those men didn’t bother her, nor did she ever think twice about what they said about her. Besides, if any of those men tried to climb onto the stage to accost her, Lawson had people to protect her…as if she needed anyone to protect her. They all thought her talons were fake. Everyone except Lawson. He knew better, but she’d promised not to use them unless she had no other choice.

She was downwind from him where she could catch the faintest wisps of his piquant scent. She breathed them in, locking them inside her lungs. The little knot grew warmer and uncurled a bit more.

He was her life mate. He had to be. Every sign she’d been told to watch for was there. She’d swear on it.

* * * *

“How will I know I’ve found my life mate?”

Kreesi glanced around at the seven of them. They were still younglings, not yet men and women. But Vodoro was beginning to come into her fertility period. Her breasts were budding, and her body was taking on the definite curves that came with her new status.

Challa looked down at her flat chest. One of these days she would become a woman. And when she did, she would look for her life mate to complete her. Until then, she had to learn all she could about her world and her people from one of the few Ruinos left alive.

Kreesi was an oldling, and the oldest woman left among them. The Arra had tortured her to the point where one arm was completely useless. Her wings had been ripped from her body, and she had been singled out to be sold for food the next time they landed. Despite her age, Kreesi’s mind was sharp. Most of the refugees already looked to her for guidance. Even Jebaral and Simolif, the two men who had helped lead the revolt on the Arran ship, which enabled them to escape in the tiny rescue pod, often approached her for advice.

Once a day, Kreesi would gather the younglings and tell them of their culture. Of what their world had been like, since so many of them had vague if any memories left of Barandat Vor. Once she was finished with the lesson, Kreesi would allow them to ask whatever questions they had. Today, it was Breftu who asked the question Challa had been too shy to ask.

“How will you know when you’ve found your life mate?” Kreesi repeated. “There are several signs you must look for. Ultimately, trust your body. Trust what you smell and what you feel.”

“Smell?” The word popped out of Challa’s mouth before she knew it. Immediately, she blushed and tried to hide behind Amfinn.

Several others laughed, but Kreesi waved them silent and smiled at Challa. Her black eyes with their light blue flecks reminded Challa of the view of the stars shining outside the viewports of the ship.

“Yes, smell. You asked a very good question, Challa, for it will be his smell that will be your first clue. Always your first clue.” The oldling eyed the rest of them to make sure they heard and understood. It was imperative that they learn. Normally the parents passed along this knowledge to their offspring. They taught their children what they needed to know to prepare them for their own futures, for the time when they would become adult Ruinos. And for the time when they would be ready to take a life mate and begin their own families.

The Arra had torn families apart. As a species, the Ruinos were nearly extinct. Only a few hundred were left alive, or so the thirty-one escapees believed. They prayed they were not the last of their kind. They prayed that the others on the ship had escaped as well.

Kreesi had taken it upon herself to become a surrogate mother to those who had been orphaned. And like all Ruinos mothers, her responsibilities included ensuring their education was complete in all ways of the Ruinos.

“It won’t be any one particular smell that will alert you. It could be any kind of scent. But when you detect it, your body will respond to it, and that’s how you will know.” She smiled again at Challa, who had ventured out from behind her friend. “What your life mate smells like won’t be the same as, say, Amfinn’s life mate. She may detect the scent of gorocci wood on him. Yours may be the same as falalohi fruit.”

“If I smell him, can Amfinn smell him, too?” Challa nearly whispered.

Kreesi shook her head. “No. Your life mate’s scent is unique between you. If you smell him as falalohi fruit, only you will sense it. No one else. The same goes for how he senses you.”

“You mean he will smell me, too?” This time Challa didn’t mind it when others laughed at her.

Again, Kreesi smiled. “Yes, Challa. You will have a unique scent that only he will detect from you.”

Vodoro spoke up. “I get it. I have a scent, and my life mate has a scent. You said our bodies will let us know that the scent is that of our life mate?”

“Yes,” Kreesi said. “But it won’t be until after you take each other’s bodies, and you experience your first true release, that you will be certain.”

“And we get our blood lines!” Amfinn piped up excitedly.

This time, Kreesi laughed with the rest of them. “Yes. And you get your blood lines.”

* * * *

Challa watched as her miracle disappeared into the hardware store. Yes, he was her miracle because she never expected her life mate to be among the humans living on this world. When they had crashed on Earth, out of food, water, fuel, and almost hope, she had just come into her budding. The others had fled the crash site, dispersed through the woods, leaving her and Amfinn alone to face their new world.

It wasn’t long before he exited the store, glancing around for what she hoped was the sight of her as he returned to his truck to dump his purchases. Challa stepped out of the shadows, into the sunlight.

The moment they locked eyes that knot inside her loosened, unfurled itself from its bindings, and stretched. She felt its tendrils slide through her veins like rivers of warmth, until her fingertips and toes tingled.

His face brightened to see her. Challa felt her heart jump, knowing he indeed had been searching for her. When she crossed the street to join him, she trembled with anticipation. She needed his touch and his scent to caress her again. She needed more of what she’d felt too briefly back in the sideshow tent.

He was upwind from her. She was less than a dozen feet away when his scent greeted her like a wall of pure happiness. Walking through it was the most beautiful thing she had ever encountered. The second most beautiful thing was the light shining from his golden brown eyes.

“Ch-Challa?”

She loved his deep voice. It suited him. Compton was not tall, but he had a strong build. His chest and arms spoke of hours in training, making Challa wonder what kind of training he’d faced. There was an air of power about him. Of facing obstacles with his mind and two hands, and defeating whatever threatened him. He would have been a worthy and intimidating Ruinos.

In the sunlight she could see tints of red in his brown hair. Everything about him pleased her and surprised her. But he didn’t touch her. Not yet, but he would. She could sense him wanting to, but he was hesitant. Cautious, but not fearful. Like a Ruinos male, he would never force himself upon her.

Someone passed by them and honked a horn. Compton acknowledged the driver with a shout and a wave. He’s well known here. He has friends…family…and a history here. The knowledge suddenly saddened her. She had no true friends or family left, and certainly no home, unless she wanted to call the carnival her home. She and Amfinn had accidentally parted company years ago. Since then, she had wandered alone, taking odd little jobs to survive, and always praying that some day she would meet up again with one of the other escapees. If nothing more than to have that contact with one of her own kind again. Someone she could be her true self with, and not worry about the consequences.

They walked side-by-side to a grill. His scent was tangy, filling her head with its sweet tartness. She realized now the lemonade smell she’d detected earlier was the scent of him caring about her. His real odor was more orangey. Tangerine.

Once they reached the restaurant and went inside, Compton was again greeted by people he knew. He led her to a little booth in the back, and they sat, facing each other across the table.

Almost immediately his orangey scent was swallowed up by the dull, penetrating smell of frying food. The first twinges of a headache echoed between her eyes. Thankfully a waitress followed them to the table to get their drink order. There seemed to be a communication problem when Compton ordered. Neither did he look happy once the woman left. Something about a wagon…

To redirect his attention, Challa smiled around her growing headache. “You’ve lived here all your life?”

Her plan worked. The frown between his eyebrows disappeared and he smiled back at her. “Yeah. Except for my tours of duty overseas, this has been my only home.”

Before she could answer, he ducked behind his menu.

It took a moment for her to realize she was sitting there, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. She had read him. She had read him!

Holiest of stars! He hadn’t touched her, but she had read him!

* * * *

“Kreesi, how is it different having a life mate?”

No matter what the topic, no matter what the oldling had to tell them, Vodoro always brought the subject around to life mates at some point during their lessons. Fortunately Kreesi never berated her for her inquisitiveness, and always gave her a straight answer.

“It’s very different. It is nothing like your life is now, changeling.”

Now Challa’s curiosity burned. “How is it different?”

Kreesi crossed her withered legs in front of her and prepared herself for a longer lesson than usual. “For one thing, you will read each other.”

The comment brought about a round of giggles. “That’s silly.” Breftu laughed.

“No, it’s not silly,” Kreesi rebuked the child without hurting her feelings. “You will know how your life mate feels, and maybe you will be able to tell what he is thinking.”

Instead of laughter, there was the sound of everyone, “Oohing,” in awe.

* * * *

For some reason, when Compton mentioned “tours of duty”, Challa saw scenes of carnage float through her mind. Bloody scenes of people getting shot. Of weapons shredding things, people, and animals.

A black, depressing sadness enveloped all of it. Thick, oppressive sadness, as well as depression and loneliness. It clogged her throat and chest to the point where she had to bow her head and pray for it to go away.

Compton was not a happy man. The smiles and laughter he had shared with her so far had been a disguise, the same way she used her human self to disguise her true self. Challa fought back the tears.

“I take it you’re not from around here.”

She glanced up. Small talk. He was trying to have a conversation with her. Find some common ground where they could become comfortable with each other because comfortable led to being open and honest. Honesty led to confessions, and her biggest confession still lay in the distance. Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve only been here for a little more than seven years.”

Touch me, Compton.

She sent it as a wish. A prayer. A fervent but silent request.

Touch me, Compton. Can you read me?

Even if all he relayed to her was sadness and depression, she wanted that connection with him. One step at a time, one revelation at a time. It was all she wanted. And everything she needed.

Touch me, Compton. Please.

His hand reached over and clasped one of hers. Challa felt her body react to his touch and his warmth. Sweet, pungent oranges burst in the air around her like bubbles. She sniffed, afraid to move for fear of losing any one of the thousand sensations rushing through her.

“You know, you’ve never told me your full name.”

“Challa Heela Doon.” It was a small confession, but it was a start. She was grateful she could say anything sensible at this moment.

“Challa Heela Doon. Challa Doon. How unusual.”

She loved the way he said her name, the way he tried to copy her accent. After all this time on Earth, she hadn’t been able to get rid of it although she’d tried.

“Challa, how long have you been working at the carnival?”

“Almost two years.”

“Wow. And all that time as an alien girl?”

As an alien girl. Challa felt her emotions rollercoastering. Like everyone else, with the exception of Lawson, he believed her true self was a costume. To the rest of the world, that was what she wanted them to believe. But not her life mate. He had to know the truth. She had to tell him that the green skin and talons and wings were not a costume. But would he accept her once he found out? In every circumstance, Challa had believed her true life mate would be Ruinos. Compton Scott was not Ruinos. He knew nothing about being Ruinos.

Would he accept me?

“How did you land a job at the carnival, if you don’t mind me asking?”

More questions. Should she tell him everything now, or wait?

There’s no time to wait, Challa. In two days’ time, the carnival will be gone, and you with it. And Compton will remain here.

But what will happen if I tell him? What happens then? Will he remain here? Or will he come with me, with the carnival?

What if he doesn’t want to come with the carnival?

Oh, dearest heavens, what will Lawson say? What would he do if I try to leave the carnival again?

Challa fought the memories of past attempts she’d made to escape Lawson’s hold. In too many ways, being in the sideshow was just like being enslaved by the Arra. Yes, she no longer feared being eaten, or tortured, or repeatedly raped like some Ruinos she’d seen. But her freedom was no longer hers. Her future was measured in miles, from one town to another, and in days, from one show to the next.

Unable to answer, she kept her face averted from him. Suddenly Compton released her hand, and her lunch was slid in front her. Challa grabbed her sandwich with relief and began cramming it into her mouth.

Chapter 9

Promise

He watched Challa dig into her grilled cheese sandwich as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. Compton took it as a positive sign. Like an idiot, he had been asking her about her past, and he had hit a brick wall for his efforts.

Stupid, Compton. Real stupid. You don’t even know the woman that well and there you go asking her personal questions when you should know better.

Thank goodness their food arrived when it did. Trying to find some sort of neutral ground, Compton heaped a few of his fried onion rings onto his hamburger and took a huge bite. When he looked up, Challa was staring at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen a person do that before.”

“Do what? Eat their burgers with onion rings? It’s good. You ought to try it,” he suggested. Food was safe ground. It wasn’t like trying to discuss politics, or religion, or each other’s past history.

“Not today. Maybe later.” She picked up a french fry and stuffed it into her mouth. An expression of contentment came over her face. “Mmm. These are the way I love them. Crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.”

“A french fry fanatic, eh?” Compton teased.

“They’re my most favorite food on this world,” she admitted before taking another bite of her sandwich.

Compton stared at her. “In the world,” he automatically corrected her, and grinned.

Challa blinked. “What?”

“You mean they’re your most favorite food in the world, not on it.”

It took her a moment to comprehend what he was saying. “Oh!” Challa gave a quick nod. “That’s right. In the world.” She bowed her head as her face reddened. Compton laughed sympathetically.

“Boy, you really get into your character, don’t you?”

For a second time the look she gave him was of unconcealed confusion. It was then another explanation broadsided him, and when it did, it became Compton’s time to be embarrassed. Fuck! You did it again!

“I’m sorry. I was being glib, when I shouldn’t have… Damn. I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“For saying what I did. I forgot you haven’t been on U.S. soil for very long, so your grasp of our colloquialisms may be sketchy. I’m sorry, Challa. It was thoughtless of me.”

Frowning slightly, Challa dropped her sandwich on her plate and leaned back in the booth. “I’m having a very hard time trying to connect with you, Compton. I want to get to know you better. I really do, but…” She paused, upper teeth pressed into her lower lip.

He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. He wondered how it would feel to kiss her. To hold her in his arms. To have her arms around him. Somehow he found the breath to respond. “But what, Challa?”

“I don’t know,” she honestly admitted. “What kind of man are you, Compton Scott? Why do you…” She paused again, turned away, and for a stretch of time Compton wondered what she was thinking.

Before he was aware of her actions, Challa was out of her seat and heading for the door. It took him several precious seconds to get his butt in gear and go after her, yelling back at Patty and the rest that he’d be back later to pay the tab.

She was halfway down the sidewalk and almost to the square when Compton spotted her. Not hesitating, he broke into a run to catch up with her, amazed at how quick she was.

Challa had reached the green when he finally caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, he stopped her. “Hey! Wait up! What’s wrong? What did I say?”

She stared up at him, her face wet with tears. “That’s just it, Compton. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m…I…This isn’t…this isn’t the way I thought it would be. It’s not…” She tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp and keep walking, but his grip on her arm was solid.

She was frightened, confused, and not thinking straight, and Compton had no idea why. He scoured his brain for something he might have said or done to make her bolt the way she did, but nothing was making itself clear. Still, he knew it had to be because of him. Damn him for not having the foggiest idea what to do or say to make the situation any better!

“Challa, talk to me, damn it! Tell me what I did wrong! Don’t go! Don’t leave me, please!”

She ceased struggling and looked up at him with those deep blue eyes with the purplish flecks swirling around in their depths. They were pleading with him. Begging him to say something. To do something. Compton cursed himself for not knowing what she needed.

Suddenly, it was there. What he’d been missing. Her honeysuckle scent floated around him, sweeter than cotton candy. Faint, but unmistakable. Without being aware of what he was doing, Compton leaned toward her and sniffed.

Challa stopped struggling. He dropped his face closer to her red waterfall of hair where the fragrance was stronger. He felt her hand press against his chest, and he would swear he felt the heat from it soak through the skin.

“I love the way you smell, Challa.” It was a tiny confession, when the truth was he wanted to also tell her how soft her hair was against his cheek. Softer than a kitten’s fur. Warm. Begging to be caressed.

“How do I smell to you?” she whispered.

“Like honeysuckle.”

“Honeysuckle?”

The question took him by surprise. Leaning back, he looked into her puzzled gaze. “You don’t know what honeysuckle smells like?” Challa shook her head, and Compton forced himself to keep from smiling, afraid she would take his response the wrong way. “There’s a vine of honeysuckle growing in my backyard. Come with me and I’ll show it to you.”

The invitation felt natural. Another step in the order of the way their relationship should advance. Hello. Let’s have lunch. Care to go with me to a movie? Come over to my place.

Oops. Skipped step three. At the same time he realized he could count on less than one finger how many women he had invited to his home.

He no longer wondered why this woman managed to have such a hold on him. She did, and that’s all there was to it. She had him in the palm of her hand, and he was right back to being the overweight, zit-faced nerd from high school.

“Compton?”

Compton started. He had happily started to drown in the pool that was her scent and her silky hair. Opening his eyes, he saw the tiny smile curling the edges of her lips. If they hadn’t been standing in the middle of town square in broad daylight in the middle of the day, he would have chanced a kiss.

“Compton?” she repeated, searching his face.

“Yes?”

“I-I need to go. I have a show tonight.”

He straightened and reluctantly released his hold on her arm. Oddly, he felt disconnected doing it, as though a switch had been flipped.

“Will you be there?” Challa asked almost timidly.

“Be there?”

“Yes. Please? Come to the show tonight.” She seemed to be pleading with him. Compton started to assure her he would come whenever she wanted him to. In fact, she didn’t have to ask. She could take his attendance as a given. Unaware of his thoughts, she hurried to add, “I’ll be doing show number two.”

Compton frowned. “Show number two?”

She nodded. “Last night was what we call show number one.”

“The one where you try to intimidate everyone?” He grinned back.

This time Challa giggled, and Compton knew he was head over heels in love. “If you think that was intimidating, just you wait until tonight!”

“Then count on it, Challa. I’ll be there. Promise.”

“I’ll be searching the crowds for you!” She backed away another step, gave him a little wave, turned, and started walking away, when Compton realized she didn’t have any sort of transportation.

“Challa! Wait up! Don’t tell me you’re planning on walking all the way back to the carnival, are you?”

“It’s not far. How do you think I got here in the first place?”

“Let me drive you back,” he offered, hoping she’d say yes. It would mean maybe ten more minutes together, but it would be ten minutes they wouldn’t have otherwise. And, who knows? Alone together in the cab, they would have a small measure of privacy.

She paused for a second then accepted. “All right.”

“Great!” He held out his hand, which she took, fingers lacing between his. Together they went to get Compton’s truck where it was parked near the hardware store.

Chapter 10

Intimidation

“Compton, please stop here and let me out.”

He gave her a questioning look but went ahead and slowed down. Pulling over to the side of the road, he took care to avoid sinking into the ditch and stopped. Challa got out and closed the door, and waited for Compton to lower the window.

He could see the carnival another quarter of a mile down the road. It stood out like a sore thumb, bordered on three sides by fields of low-lying soybean and cotton, making it easy as pie for people to spot it as soon as they left town. Come sundown when the tents and rides lit up, even a blind man could find it.

“Challa, let me take you the rest of the way.”

He could see the wind kicking up dirt on the road and in the fields. Little dust devils whirled past. In a matter of minutes, gray clouds like balls of dirty lint had rolled in from the west. Challa leaned in the window.

“This is fine. I can walk the rest of the way.” Her hair lifted and swirled about her shoulders like a live animal. Her tone told him she didn’t want him to drive her all the way back to the carnival. For some reason she either didn’t want to be seen with him, or she didn’t want someone to see them together.

He started to say something when a couple of fat raindrops splattered on the windshield. Compton shook his head. “Storm’s coming in. Get back inside, Challa, or you’ll get drenched.”

“It’s okay, Compton. I need to—”

The rest of her reply was drowned out by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. At the same moment, a wall of water fell from the sky and Challa gave a little shriek of surprise as she was drenched from head to toe.

Compton leaned across the cab and shoved open the door. Challa scrambled back inside as another peal exploded directly overhead, followed by an increasing deluge. Quickly, he raised the window before pulling her against him. As the storm surged around them, they watched from within the warmth and safety of the cab.

She was shivering in his arms, but his body heat was providing her with some measure of comfort. Her red hair, now the color of wilted rose petals, hung in thick, ropey strands. Her thin sundress clung to her body, revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and only the tiniest slip of a thong. The realization raised his libido to an uncomfortable level. Even so, there was no way he was letting go of her. Not when she had willingly come into his arms and was happy to remain there while the roaring rain beat incessantly on the truck.

He felt her move slightly. A pale, cold hand reached up and found the neckline of his shirt, which was now as wet as she was. In fact, he was just as soaked to the skin as she was. None of it mattered. His arms were all the way around her slender body, and it would take a crowbar to pry him away from her.

Challa moved slightly, adjusting her position where she was nearly sitting in his lap. Her fingers touched his throat, their tips like small ice cubes. “I love the way you smell, too,” she whispered.

The confession surprised him. Lowering his face, Compton found her staring up at him. This close he could see the purple flecks moving in her irises, floating like tiny specks of ice in a glass of sapphire-colored water. Mild shock went through him as he wondered how that could be possible. However, his mind was still reeling from her simple statement.

“My smell?”

“Yeah. Like oranges,” she softly confessed.

Oranges? Not like Old Spice?

She shifted again in his lap, and nothing mattered anymore except for her buttocks grinding down his erection. There was no thought prior to what he did next. It was merely the right thing to do, and he did it without regret.

Her lips were cold and trembling when he kissed her. Challa reacted, pulling back slightly, but only slightly.

Compton kept a tight rein on his emotions, and an even tighter rein on what his body demanded that he do. It would take very little effort to push her down across both seats, but he wasn’t about to jeopardize their budding relationship with any crass actions or threatening moves. No, if it took handcuffing his wrists to the gun rack behind the seats, Compton swore to himself he would take things as nice and easy as he could physically manage in order to win her trust.

In order to win her.

It took him all of two seconds to learn that Challa had not kissed many men, if any. Her mouth was responsive, yet she timidly imitated his actions. On the plus side, her lips were growing warmer. In fact, the steam coming off their clothing was leaving a thin film of moisture on the windshield and windows.

Her hands continued to press against his sternum, her fingers clutching his button-down, short-sleeved shirt as if she was afraid he would let her go. Her breathing was steadily growing faster and shorter, and she moved closer to him.

The interior of the truck smelled like one vast pool of fragrant honeysuckle warmed by the sun. Not cloying, but light and sweet. He doubted it was her perfume, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of it coming from her clothing, or her soap or shampoo. But there was no doubt in his mind that the scent was as much a part of her as her skin, her hair, and her lips.

Her tongue licked the corner of his mouth. Compton felt his erection shift in his lap, nearly standing on end like a loaded missile. Beneath his hands he could feel her skin and the thin dress she wore. The flex of muscle beneath the incredibly soft texture of her back was like a potent drink going straight to his head. Besieged by the hundred and one sensations of her mouth, her skin, her body, her hair, her breath, her fingers, her hands, and her scent, Compton moaned.

Challa gasped in reply. The next thing he knew, her arms went around his neck, and she was pressing her whole body along his.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…

The words slid through his mind like a litany. This woman wanted him, and by her responses alone he could tell she was just as inexperienced as he was in the art of lovemaking. Maybe less, maybe more. But he would swear her trembling and hesitant kisses were not the actions of a woman who frequently gave herself to any road show Johnny who waited after the end of each performance for a chance to get to know Challa the Alien Girl…and hopefully get a piece of ass in the bargain.

Yeah, Compton. And what do you think your chances are you’ll actually get laid?

The snarky comment had the same effect as a cold shower. Compton regretfully pulled away from Challa’s full lips as a groan rattled in his chest. He bowed his head, to feel her lightly kiss his forehead.

“Compton?”

Looking back into her face, he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Challa, listen.”

“I never th-thought…” She hiccupped, and a teardrop slipped down her face. Another drop glittered like a faceted diamond on her long, dark red lashes.

Compton paused and debated whether to tell her what he’d felt he had to tell her. That he wasn’t quite the man she may believe he is. That he had a history she had to know about if they wanted to take this relationship any further.

Especially if their relationship was going to become sexual.

If it could become sexual.

Another thought surfaced, and Compton found himself at a loss for words. What were the chances Challa was a virgin?

Almost like a second thought, he remembered what she had started to tell him. Breathe, Compton. Breathe and concentrate on what she’s trying to say.

“You never thought what?” he whispered, wiping away the runaway tear with his thumb.

“I never thought I would find you.”

“What are you talking about, Challa? I don’t understand.”

Her chin was trembling. Her face was so close he could see his reflection in her pupils. Compton had the nearly irresistible urge to kiss her again, but he forced himself to resfrain from doing so until after she’d finished what she needed to say.

Her voice hitched again. Another tear fell, this time on the other side. “My life mate. You’re human. I never—”

A horn blatted loud and close by. It startled the both of them, and Compton grabbed the steering wheel with one hand to steady himself. The rain had let up enough for him to see the red taillights of the car that had just passed them receding in the rearview mirror. Overhead, the clouds appeared to be breaking up. The storm had spent its fury. Compton glanced down at where Challa remained partially sitting in his lap. She gave him a questioning look.

“Storm’s over. Are you still cold?” He didn’t want to ask her what she meant by her last remark. In fact, these past few minutes seemed too surreal to be believable. He needed some time to think things over. Put his feelings in perspective. Most of all, he needed to make some hard decisions about himself…and Challa.

She shook her head to answer him. Compton swiveled around and started up the truck. Challa tucked herself against his side and laid her face on his shoulder. Gradually, carefully, he pulled away from the side of the dirt road, which was now more of a muddy lane, and slowly drove the rest of the way to the carnival.

He turned to pull into the grassy field where he had parked last night, but Challa pointed at the cluster of trailers and RVs at the other side of the main tent.

“Can you drop me off there?”

“Not a problem.”

Compton took care to watch out for muddy ruts. The ground was saturated to the point where he found himself driving in nearly an inch of rainwater.

“Let’s hope this field has good drainage, or else your customers are going to find themselves slogging through ankle-deep mud,” he commented. From the corner of his eye, he could see Challa silently acknowledge him with a nod of her head.

“Here. Stop here,” she suddenly said. They were parallel to an old tan and white Winnebago. Compton hit the brakes and put the vehicle in park. He turned toward her.

Challa looked up at him, expecting some sort of goodbye, but not sure of what to say or how to go about it. Smiling, Compton leaned over to kiss her one more time before she exited the cab.

The arm came from out of nowhere, slamming across the hood of the truck with an explosive sound. Compton yelled in shock, his heart leaping into his throat. At the same time, Challa shrieked and jumped backwards against the seat.

The man who had hit the truck advanced around the front of the vehicle and headed for the passenger side. His fist came down again across the hood, hard enough to where Compton could see the dent it left.

“Goddamn it, Challa! Where the fuck have you been?”

The man was furious. His face was red, and he was gritting his teeth in barely suppressed rage. Compton immediately recognized the guy as the barker who had introduced Challa’s act last night.

Challa scooted over to the door, opening it the same moment he jerked on the handle. He threw it open, and she tumbled out onto the muddy turf. The man stood over her, ranting loudly as she stared back up at him.

“Who the hell gave you permission to leave the show, huh? Who do you think you are, running off like that without telling anyone where you were going?”

“Lawson, I—”

Now it made sense to Compton. The irate guy had to be Lawson Hall, the owner and proprietor of the carnival. But even if he was the owner, his status didn’t give him the right to talk to Challa with that tone of voice. Compton quickly exited the truck from the driver’s side and walked around the front of the vehicle, casting an eye on the two noticeable dent marks in the hood.

If Hall was aware of Compton approaching from behind him, he never acknowledged it. Instead, the man continued his verbal abuse on the woman still on her hands and knees in the mud and standing water.

“How many times have I told you you’re not supposed to leave the carnival without letting someone know?”

“There wasn’t anyone around,” Challa tried to protest.

“Then you don’t leave until you tell someone!” Lawson roared. “I have a dozen men out there right now, looking for you! Men who should be here this minute working to get the place ready for tonight!”

Lawson reached down and grabbed her by the wrist, and literally yanked her to her feet. Challa cried out in pain at the rough handling. It was the last straw for Compton.

“Listen, Mr. Hall, don’t blame Challa for being AWOL. I—”

Lawson whirled on him like an unrestrained tornado. “Get the fuck out of here! You’re not wanted here, and you have no say-so in my business dealings! So get the fuck outta my face and stay away from my carnival before I call the sheriff!”

As the man railed against him, Compton noticed he didn’t make any menacing moves toward him, and Compton had an idea why. Although Compton barely topped six feet, Lawson was a good three or four inches shorter. That, plus the fact that the carnival owner had to be in his late forties or early fifties. But Lawson’s arms were corded and well-muscled after years of manual labor required in the carnival. The man could be a formidable opponent, despite the paunch rolling over the waistband of his jeans.

Compton held up his hands as if in surrender and stepped back. “Hey. I meant no harm. I saw the girl walking down the road in the middle of the rainstorm, and I pulled over to give her a lift. No harm, no foul. Geez.” He chanced a glance over at where Challa was staring wide-eyed at him.

Luckily, Lawson swallowed the story without question as he glanced back at Challa, and finally noticed her bedraggled appearance. His anger softened, but not by much. “No one asked you to play the Good Samaritan,” he told Compton. “Now, get on with your business and leave us be. We got work to do and a show to put on tonight.”

Compton nodded, chancing one last glance at Challa. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded. “Th-thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Say,” Challa hurried to add. “Why don’t you come to the show tonight? Bring your g-girlfriend.” She gave the carnival owner a hard stare that looked as if she was daring the man to take back her invitation. Fortunately the man relented.

Compton was silently relieved. Thank you, Challa, for going along with me. It was fortunate she’d caught on to his ruse. Obviously she knew he was willing to keep their relationship hidden from the carnival owner.

Smiling, he nodded. “Sounds good. I just might.”

He backed away and got into the truck. Lawson glared at him as he put the vehicle in gear and slowly drove away from the cluster of trailers.

As he neared the front entrance, Compton checked his rearview mirror. Challa had disappeared, but Lawson remained standing where he’d left him. Lawson Hall continued to watch Compton leave, and didn’t break his stance until Compton reached the muddy road and turned toward town.

Chapter 11

Show Two

Other than wearing a baseball cap, there was hardly any way Compton could disguise himself. Lawson Hall knew what he looked like, and Compton was certain the owner would be on the lookout for the man who had driven Challa back to the carnival. That, plus the fact that his artificial leg always drew attention.

It was evident the owner was overly protective. Or maybe not. Compton briefly entertained the notion that Challa could be related to him, which would explain a lot. But he seriously doubted there were blood ties between the two. He’d gotten the distinct impression that Hall was not so much protective as possessive. If that was the case, why? Was Challa someone’s daughter he’d been entrusted to take care of? Was she his niece? Stepdaughter? Goddaughter?

What drove Lawson Hall to act the way he did?

Furthermore, Challa seemed fearful of him. Had the man abused her in the past? Was he still abusing her?

Frantically, Compton searched his memory for some sign of a bruise or mark on Challa’s creamy white skin without success. But then a blacker, uglier form of abuse surfaced in his mind, and Compton felt his disgust and anger roil in his gut like acid.

Sweet heavens, if that bastard’s abused her like that, I’m going to strangle the man. I swear to God, I will!

Deliberately unclenching his fists, Compton forced himself to take a few deep, slow breaths. He double-checked the straps on his prosthesis to make sure it wouldn’t slip or fall off in case he had to make a run for it. Once he was satisfied, he finished dressing.

When he walked out of his house, he checked his watch for the time. It was almost a quarter till eight. Given that the sideshow acts didn’t begin until eight-thirty, he would have plenty of time to do a quick recon of the grounds.

Compton smiled. Max was wrong. The man said that once Compton was discharged from the Army, he’d never have any further use for his skills he’d obtained during his enlistment. For once, Compton was going to delight in having his training to fall back on.

The drive to the carnival grounds was not as quick as it had been the night before. News of what the carnival—or rather, the sideshow—had to offer was drawing a bigger crowd, which suited Compton just fine. The more the merrier, especially when it would make Lawson Hall’s job of keeping an eye on him all the more difficult.

Parking had overflowed in the first field. Now people were finding their own places along the shoulder of the road, and sometimes in the ditch. Compton dutifully pulled his truck behind a compact car. He joined the growing line of people heading for the tents and rides, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for signs of carnival workers.

Rule Two: Spot the enemy before they spot you.

The darkness was a mixed blessing, as it made it easy for him to remain out of sight. But by the same token, it played havoc with his unfamiliarity with the layout of the carnival. Another short rainfall had hit the area after the initial flooding around noon. The grounds were soggy but not standing in water. Still, there were the occasional patches of mud to steer clear of. For the most part, the carnival goers didn’t seem to care. They were there for their amusement and entertainment, and a little downpour wasn’t going to stop them.

Instead of wearing his Army jacket, as he was in the habit of doing, Compton had gone back to his old denim jacket. His hunch paid off; the carnival was packed with men and women wearing similar jackets, allowing him to blend in with them.

He vaguely thought about grabbing a hot dog at one of the concession stands, but his stomach felt queasy. Since lunchtime he’d been doing a lot of soul searching, wondering what the future held. Wondering how Challa could fit into it…if she would.

If she could.

There were too many damn questions and not enough answers to suit him, and Compton hated the feeling of frustration gradually growing inside of him. Could Challa get out of her contract with her boss? How easy would it be for her to up and quit?

Common sense immediately pulled on his reins. Whoa, cowboy. Aren’t you forgetting one minor detail? You haven’t asked Challa to stay with you. Hell, she may change her mind after she gets a load of what you have to offer her, and decide to stick with the show.

Unfortunately, common sense had a way of biting him in the butt when he least expected it, or wanted it. Face it, Comp. You’re not a whole man anymore. How could you expect her to stay when she could have her pick of “complete” men? What can you and this little hick town offer her that she couldn’t find elsewhere?

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath. “Follow the Sergeant’s credo, Compton.”

Rule One: Winning is ninety percent mental. Defeat yourself mentally, and you might as well give up.

He grabbed a soft drink at one of the concession stands and continued to keep his distance from any of the carnival workers at the gaming booths. The crowd tonight was totally different from last night’s. Saturday was traditionally date night. Most of the people here were younger, high-school age and thereabouts. Kids with dates, or little clusters of girls out to flaunt what they had to little knots of guys looking to score. And if not score, at least drink until they passed out or raised a bit of hell.

Leaning against the small pipe railing encircling one of the rides, Compton sipped on his beverage and eyed the show of life passing by him. It hadn’t been too many years ago when he would have been one of the many teenagers rushing about, raucously challenging and yelling at others they knew. But back then, he had been a wholly different person. A person so different, that when he had come back to his old stomping grounds after getting his medical discharge, hardly anyone recognized him. Hell, nobody recognized him. Not even his best friend, whom he’d grown up with.

What few of them realized was that more than Compton’s outer appearance had changed. His inner self had metamorphosized, too. The shy, abused fat kid the high school yearbook labeled “Most Likely to Live His Life Inside a Video Game” had incurred an amazing transformation in the military. To Compton, he had been given a new future, a brand new road to travel, and he was determined not to go it alone. Not anymore. Not since he’d met Challa.

The barker came out to announce the sale of tickets to the sideshow. Compton had strategically placed himself near the entrance of the tents to be sure he got one of the tickets. Tossing his drink in one of the large wire trash cans, he got in line behind two bulky football players, who effectively made him appear shorter and smaller. Compton eyed the guys with a small grin. Sometimes the years bridging yesterday and today melted away or thinned after reliving a particular memory or hearing a familiar sound. Or, as in this case, the simple sight of a high school letter jacket.

Very little had changed in the way the first three acts were presented. The snake charmer used a different tune, but her gyrations were the same. GiGi the Turtle Woman was a static act—more of a view for visitors who walked around the plexiglass-enclosed cage before moving on to the next tent. The sword swallower added a length of rebar and several glo-sticks that had been strung together to his presentation. Once the lights were extinguished, Compton had to admit the sight of the man’s insides shining through his skin was a sight he didn’t particularly care to see again.

Compton kept the two linebackers within arm’s reach. So far he’d managed to use them effectively as shields, enabling him to get this far without someone detecting or challenging him.

The fourth tent appeared more crowded than last night. Everyone was packed into the area. This sideshow was standing room only, no chairs. Like last night, the stage sat at the far end of the room. The covered cage was on top of it, and another heavily muscled bodyguard stood in front with his arms crossed over his chest. It was a different guy this night, Compton noted. Not good. No telling where the other giant was, or how many there were all total on Hall’s payroll.

Lawson Hall stepped from behind the tent. Compton guessed he had used the narrow corridor behind the tents that he had seen last night. The carnival owner pasted a smile on his face as he scanned the room. Compton continued to remain behind the linebackers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! What you are about to witness is something very few have been fortunate enough to see. Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow is proud to present…Challa the Alien Girl!”

The lights dimmed, and space age music began to play. Slowly, the curtains parted. The cage and its floor of hay hadn’t changed. Neither had the fake bucket of blood and entrails. Challa was in her corner again, curled into a little ball. But unlike last night, the heckling began before the show started.

“Oh, look! It’s a little green man!”

“Aww, dude. You’d think they’d come up with something more original.”

If Challa heard them, she paid no attention. Compton figured she had pretty much been the brunt of just about every nasty, rude, or vulgar remark there was. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as thick-skinned about it. Frowning, he kept his eyes on the woman in the cage.

“Careful, everyone! Try not to antagonize her! She has powers beyond what any of us can imagine!” Hall warned them theatrically.

She slowly unfurled herself and rose to her feet. Her eyes scoured the crowd. Almost immediately she spotted Compton, and she froze. Compton could swear a tiny smile creased her lips before she opened her mouth to snarl.

“Hey! A vampire alien! How cool is that?” someone yelled.

“Hey, baby! Slip out of that bathing suit and show us what alien tits look like!”

Now things were starting to get a bit raucous, and she hadn’t even gotten into her act yet. The smell of beer and alcohol permeated the air, and Compton knew the concessions didn’t serve those kinds of beverages. Doing so would invalidate their license, and possibly put Hall in jail if they were in a dry county. But with the carnival being as open as this one was, where anyone could literally walk onto the grounds without being checked, it was inevitable liquor would find its way in. He saw Hall frowning as he gave a little nod to the bodyguard standing at the edge of the stage. Apparently they were also aware of the intoxication level of the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Hall continued. “Don’t be alarmed by her looks, but don’t be fooled by them, either. She is a real alien, and she’s unlike anything we have ever encountered before! Believe it! A creature from another world, another galaxy! There isn’t an inch on her that isn’t deadly!”

A spotlight went on, illuminating a slab of beef suspended overhead on a rope. The slab began to lower into the cage. Challa whirled around, spotted it, and she gave an ear-splitting shriek of anger. Her arms lifted, revealing the thin membranes running from her wrists to her ankles. Compton noticed what looked like tiny blood vessels running through membranes, and he marveled at the detail in her costume. Someone in the crowd laughed. Several others gasped in shock or surprise.

Challa screamed again, as if the slab of meat was something that offended her or frightened her. Raising her taloned fingers, she lunged toward the meat and swiped it with her hands. The blades on her fingers went through the heavy beef as if it was made of paper.

Holy shit! Compton started, realizing for the first time that the talons were real. Challa hadn’t been kidding when she told him tonight’s act would be different from last night’s. Last night she had pretended to be trying to reach for the audience as if to attack them. It was more of an introduction to get the crowd used to seeing her. Tonight, knowing there would be repeat visitors in the crowd, she planned to show them what she was capable of doing.

She lashed out at the beef again, sending slices flying out into the audience. Drops of blood also splattered across several members of the audience.

“Gimme more, mama!” someone yelled. “I’m hungry!”

“Hey! Who ’da thunk? An alien deli slicer!”

“I like mine a little thinner, please!”

The crowd hooted. Their fear was quickly fading, fueled by alcohol-soaked bravery. One man near the front got a bit too close to the bodyguard, who uncrossed his arms and gave the guy a menacing glare as he clenched his fists. The narrowed look he gave the audience member was undeniable. Undeterred, the challenger yelled, “Oooh, yeah! Do some more! I like it rough, baby!”

Challa lunged for the bars, reaching between the iron rods with both hands as she screeched in anger. Her sudden action stunned everyone. Several people screamed. The whole audience tried to move back and away from the cage, but they were packed so tightly inside, even a few inches were impossible.

Before anyone had time to recover, the heckler lunged for the side of the stage. He landed on his chest, close enough to the cage to reach out and grab Challa by the wrist. People screamed again. The bodyguard hurried to intercept the man, but the crowd restricted him.

Compton stared in shock as Challa and the heckler squared off, face to face. In the next instant, he saw her try to jerk out of his grasp, but the guy had a firm hold, and either he was too drunk or too stupid to let go.

What happened next shocked everyone. Compton distinctly heard Challa order the man to let her go. Instead, the guy murmured something in return and gave her a shit-eating grin, as if he’d discovered her secret. Challa gave one last tug then brought her other hand down, removing the man’s hand at the wrist.

The heckler stared at the blood pumping from his severed stump for all of three seconds before all hell broke out in the tent. People began screaming at the top of their lungs as they turned and stampeded for the exit. The place fell into complete pandemonium, with the crowd knocking down support poles as they tore their way through the walls of the tent.

Challa turned to look for him. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with disbelief and growing fear. Compton started to head for the front of the stage when the curtain suddenly fell, blocking the cage from sight. The audience surged backwards, shoving many people to the ground. Many were trampled on in the urgency to flee.

There was no way he could fight his way through the commotion. Not with only one good leg. But there was an alternative. Compton quickly found the slit between the tarps that he had discovered and used the night before. From the tiny alcove, he peered through at the shambles left by the panic-stricken crowd. At the very edge of his viewpoint, he could see the bodyguard and Hall bending over the injured man who lay writhing on the ground. Apparently they were trying to give him first aid.

There was a rustling behind him. Compton glanced over his shoulder at the narrow corridor running along the back wall. It was probably the way in and out of the tents from the rear. It was also possible that what he’d heard was Challa fleeing her cage.

Reacting purely on his training, Compton hurried between the tent walls until he came to the back passageway. There were no lights in this area, but enough light from the flood lamps from Challa’s tent spilled into the narrow hallway to give him an idea of which way to go. Quickly, he passed the rear areas of the other three tents until he reached what appeared to be another small alcove containing a stadium chair. An open bottle of root beer was propped in one arm’s cup holder. Hall’s hiding place before he went on stage.

Compton glanced down the way he’d come. It looked empty although he could still hear people running past the tent on the other side of the fabric wall. The place seemed a lot quieter. Keeping low, he ducked underneath the flap and exited the sideshow.

As he’d suspected, the carnival was looking rather deserted. Apparently news of the attack had spread like fire on oil. A flash of color in the distance warned Compton that the sheriff’s department had been called. An ambulance was on its way, as well as God knew how many emergency vehicles, the sheriff, deputies, ambulance, fire trucks—the works.

But he couldn’t leave without finding Challa first. He had to make sure she was okay. He had to be sure she understood that she wasn’t at fault for what had happened. The man had initiated the attack, and she had given him fair warning to let her go. Compton would testify to that fact if need be.

Trusting his sense of direction, he turned and headed for the cluster of trailers parked in the rear. If he was lucky, she would be there. If he was luckier, she would go along with what he planned to suggest.

He just hoped she hadn’t already tried to make a run for it.

Chapter 12

Hiding

Challa stared in horror at the blood clinging to her hand. The smell of its dark, metallic odor made her stomach clench. She gagged. Normally she never ate before a show, at Lawson’s request, and for once she was glad she didn’t. Her stomach lurched again, but nothing came up as she bent over the weeds and wet ground.

Just you wait, bitch.

Hecklers were always present at the sideshows. They were like cockroaches. One could never keep them out, no matter what preventive measures were used. So she had learned to ignore them…until they tried to take matters into their own hands and advanced upon her. That’s why Lawson always had a bodyguard around her now, to keep something like what had happened tonight from happening.

Only…it had happened anyway.

Just you wait, bitch.

The man had been rank with the stench of beer. An oily, sick smell also oozed from his pores. There was no telling how much the guy had imbibed prior to coming to the show, but he wasn’t the first man to try to get his hands on her. He just was the first man to succeed.

The air felt clean. Cleansing. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she ran her hand along the wet grass to also clean it. Here she could grasp the tang of gasoline and the heavy richness of the earth. She loved it whenever it rain, because it left everything pristine and fresh, giving it a new beginning.

Challa breathed deeply. No matter where she went, she knew the memory of the past few minutes would haunt her. Be it tomorrow, next month, or years from now, the guilt would continue to churn inside her.

Just you wait, bitch.

“Why? Why?” she whispered to the night sky. Why did that guy come on stage? Why wouldn’t he let her go?

More tears burned on her cheeks. She couldn’t help herself. She was what she was, a Ruinos female with the ability to protect herself, and that’s why she had reacted the way she did. She had warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. And he smelled horrible. Threatening.

“Compton.”

Compton had seen it all. The look in his eyes after she’d cut the man’s hand off had been that of disbelief…and terror. The same filmy glaze of terror that had closed over the eyes of everyone else in the crowd. And then he’d disappeared. He’d run, like the others. Run in horror. Run as far away from the carnival as he could. Away from her. Away from the sight of blood on her talons.

Frantically, Challa rubbed her hand over and over on the grass, trying to wipe away the congealing blood. A sob hitched in her chest and burned there.

Compton.

She didn’t know what was ripping her apart the worst—having sliced her attacker’s hand off or losing the man meant to be her lifelong partner.

Her sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone coming around to where the carnival folk parked their mobile homes. She instantly caught the faint click click click of metal rubbing against metal, and her heart started pounding again. She knew that clicking sound. She’d heard it earlier in the day when Compton had been with her. Challa knew there was something oddly mechanical about him, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source. But hearing it now was like having every prayer answered.

The footsteps grew nearer. Challa remained tucked inside the tiny cavity beneath the front door of Lawson’s bus and waited. They stopped beyond the vehicle, out of her line of sight, paused, then a soft voice whispered, “Challa?”

She scrambled out from her hiding place in time to see Compton heading for the next row of trailers. He was looking for her, and knowing it gave her the courage to respond.

“Here, Compton!”

He pivoted around, searching in the darkness, unable to see her because of her dark coloring. However, being Ruinos, Challa was able to see him clearly.

“Challa?” he whispered back.

She ran up to him and cautiously stopped less than a foot away, so as not to alarm him. “Here.”

His hand reached out and found her shoulder. Immediately, he grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, Jesus, Challa. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Did that bastard hurt you?”

Warmth…hard muscles…the sense of protection that fell over her like a thick coat… Challa sighed as she drew her own arms around his neck and buried her face in his jacket.

Let me stay like this forever with you. Keep me well. Keep me strong. Love me.

“Challa?”

She managed to nod. “I’m fine now…now that you’re here. Forgive me, Compton.”

“Forgive you?” His disbelief was evident. “For what? You thought that prick was going to hurt you. No telling what he could have done to you before that bodyguard got to him.”

“Duffy,” she murmured.

“Huh?”

“The man watching out for me. His name’s Duffy.”

“Whatever. He did a piss-poor job of taking care of things and now there’s going to be hell to pay,” Compton warned her. His hands slid down over her back to encounter the overlapping plates atop her spinal ridge. She felt him jerk a little as his body tensed slightly. “You’re still in costume?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Duh, me. What am I thinking? Of course you are. You haven’t had a chance to ditch it. Look, the sheriff and his men are starting to swarm all over the place. They’re looking for you. You know that, right?”

“Yes. But, Compton, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cut off his hand! I swear I didn’t!”

A finger touched her lips to silence her. “I know that, Challa. Hell, there has to be nearly a hundred witnesses who’ll testify that the guy went after you first. I know I specifically heard you ask the man to let you go. He could have snapped your arm in two.”

“What will the sheriff do to me?” she asked, looking up into Compton’s caring face. “Will he cage me for real?”

His forehead furrowed as he studied her face in the shadows. “Did you know your eyes have a funny shine to them in the dark?”

“Yes, yes,” Challa quickly answered. She could hear the tramping of feet in the distance. It was not the sound of carnival goers feet. It was the steady pounding of the earth from people on a mission, searching for her. “They’re coming this way.”

Compton took a step back, releasing her but keeping his hands on her arms. She immediately protested. “No, no! Don’t go! Don’t leave me here, Compton! I’m so afraid!”

“Challa, they need to ask you some questions. They’re not going to hurt you,” he said.

“They’re going to put me in a cage,” she hissed back. “They’re going to put me there and keep me there because of what I am!”

“Because of what you…” Compton stared hard at her. Giving a shake of his head, he said, “What if I promise to stay with you while the sheriff questions you?”

“No, no! I can’t! Please, Compton! Protect me!”

Frowning, Compton sighed loudly. “Okay. Look. A compromise, okay? What if I take you back to my place? Give you a chance to get out of that costume and get cleaned up. Then, when you’re ready, I’ll drive you over to the sheriff’s office to answer his questions. How does that sound to you?”

To his place. A chance to be alone with him. She shivered at the prospect.

“Will you still stay with me when we go over to the sheriff’s office?”

“Yeah. Promise.” There was a finality in his voice that gave her hope. Compton meant every word he said. Challa breathed with relief.

“Okay. I agree. Thank you.”

“No problem. It’s not every day I get the chance to save a damsel in distress,” he replied, trying to make light of the situation.

Challa gave him a puzzled look. A damsel in distress? What did that mean, and how did it apply to her situation? She never had the chance to ask, as he took her by the hand and began to lead her out of the maze of trailers and away from the carnival.

Chapter 13

Truth

“You must have night vision, too.”

Compton gave her hand a squeeze. It was her non-bloodied hand, she noticed, and she wondered if he’d chosen it on purpose.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Compton whispered. “If it weren’t for the cars passing on the road, I wouldn’t have any idea where I was.” He glanced behind them, and Challa did the same. The rides had shut down, she noticed. Their lights were either dimmed or off, leaving just the main flood lamps to provide illumination. From here the carnival looked as dismal and bleak as she felt.

Compton tugged on her hand. “Challa, is there any way you can take off the glove so I don’t accidentally get stabbed or something?”

A cold chill went up her back. She had to tell him the truth. Sooner or later he would find out, and she was fearful that if he discovered her secret by accident, rather than from her, the results could be…

“I-I can’t,” she stuttered.

He paused slightly. “Is it all in one?”

“Yeah.”

She saw him nod as they aimed for the road. It was an odd little sequence of movements she was doing with him: scurrying hunched over for several yards; then stopping to check around them to see if they’d been spotted before advancing again. Although she would rather have made a full-out run for his truck, she knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her.

They finally reached the road. He helped her up into the driver’s side. She climbed over to the passenger seat, and he jumped in behind her. Both of them were wet and muddy, but it didn’t matter. Challa never took her eyes off the man who carefully maneuvered the truck onto the road, turned it around, and drove them away from the carnival and away from town.

They remained in silent companionship while he drove. She could see determination in every line of his face. He was worried for her as the scent of apples hovered in the air between them. Compton glanced at her. “What?”

“Why?” The word popped out of her from nowhere. They were safe for the moment, but for how long?

“Why, what? Why are we heading this way?”

She glanced down the road. It looked like a hundred other one-lane, long and narrow back country roads she’d been on. Another seemingly endless blacktop leading from one town to another.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m heading over to FM 616. From there, I’ll cut across and hit Mount Hope, loop back around, cut across the Interstate, and come into Cooper through the back door to town. It’ll mean another half-hour before we get home, but I was afraid McManus might have a road block set up if we tried to go back the other way.” He glanced at her again. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Am I?” She hadn’t noticed. In fact, she hadn’t noticed anything about herself other than the fact that she was leaning over the center console that separated them. She watched Compton reach out and turn on the heater. Warm air blew up her legs.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you. Compton?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

He chuckled. His worry hadn’t lessened, but she could smell another scent starting to overtake it, a fruity smell. Light, fresh, fragrant. Challa felt her hopes rising. He cared about her. He honestly cared.

But does he love me? Can he love me?

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Challa. Why what? Why am I going to all this trouble?”

“Yes.”

He started to answer her, but the words never made it past his lips. Another minute passed. Finally she heard him take a deep breath and noisily let it out.

“Challa, please don’t take this wrong.” He paused to see if she would say something. When she didn’t, he continued. “I care about you,” he admitted.

Her heart started pounding. The sweet, pungent smell of bananas, of his need to care for her, was growing stronger. Challa fought back tears.

“Compton.”

“No…let me finish what I want to say. What I have to say.” He cleared his throat. They came to a stop sign. He slowed the truck and kept his foot on the brake so he could look at her. “Challa, I had planned on asking you to come over to my place tonight after the show. I never thought it would be under these circumstances.”

She reached up to touch his face. He never flinched as her blades lightly brushed his cheek and temple. Compton leaned closer, and she saw his nostrils flare. Slowly, inevitably, they touched lips. It was a soft kiss, but it sealed so much between them.

“I…there’s so much I want to ask you,” he murmured. His breath tickled her mouth, making her smile.

“Ask away.”

“No. Not here. Wait.” He pulled away to continue driving, but she could tell he had done so reluctantly.

They said no more until they reached the outskirts of town. Challa saw the population sign pass by. A moment later, they were driving slowly down the center of the main street. With the exception of a few lights left glowing inside some of the shops, the town was empty, closed for the night. Vacant and lifeless, and very foreboding.

They were nearly out of town again when Compton passed a church and turned down a side street. The street remained paved for several hundred feet before it became dirt. It continued to wind between trees and pastures. A mailbox came into view with the name Scott on the side. Compton slowed and turned into the drive. The truck’s wheels rumbled over the cattle guard, and Challa watched as the long, ranch-style house came into view. He pulled the truck under the carport and killed the engine. Looking at her, he waited to see what her first reaction would be.

“Is this your house?”

“It was my parents’. I grew up here.”

“Where are your parents now?”

He didn’t answer her until he got out of the vehicle and walked around to open her door for her. “My dad died when I was in high school. Mom passed away while I was stationed overseas.”

He led her through a door that opened into a kitchen, flipping on the light switch as they entered. Gesturing to a chair, Compton asked if she’d like something to drink.

“Oh, yes. Please.”

He got the water from a dispenser in the door of the refrigerator. Challa accepted the glass with thanks. While she drank, he took the seat next to her at the table. His eyes studied the way she held the slippery glass. His examination was intense and precise. She wondered how long it would take for him to figure out the truth.

Compton held out a hand. “May I?” He wanted to examine her hand, more specifically her talons. Setting her glass down on the table, she held out her hand to him. Her stomach clenched with dread and anticipation.

His hands were warm as he scrutinized her fingers one at a time, then the palm, all the way to the wrist. Challa breathed deeply, searching for any hint to what he was thinking. More importantly, she had to know how he was feeling because they would alert her to what he would do next. The air grew smoky as he gradually grew wary and suspicious.

She found him staring at her with curiosity. “I don’t see a seam.” His thumb rasped hard over the back of her hand then he glanced at the ball of his thumb. “If it’s makeup, it doesn’t rub off easily.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Challa…what the hell is going on? The truth, now.”

“You’re right. You deserve to know. All of it,” she whispered. “You’ve risked too much already to help me.” She had no idea she was crying until Compton reached over and captured her tear. She grabbed his hand before he could pull it away and pressed a kiss to it, bowing her head. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face him. If he rejected her with his fear or his disgust, there was no way her heart could survive if she watched it come over him.

Taking another deep breath, she nodded as she stared at the wood grain in the table. “The truth is… Compton, I’m a real alien.”

He didn’t pull away his hand, but neither did he say anything. Still, she continued to keep her head bowed, too terrified to look up at him. She had no idea how long they remained that way until he sighed and gently disengaged his hand.

“Okay. There’s no reason why you would lie to me, or tell me such an outlandish story unless it was true. But could you explain something to me?”

Slowly, Challa lifted her face until she could see the perplexed look in his brown eyes.

“If you’re really an alien, why the hell do I feel this way about you?”

She tried to answer, but her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “Feel about me?”

“Yeah. Truth for a truth, Challa. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Chapter 14

Reveal

Challa stared at him, not sure she’d heard him correctly. Compton continued to watch her, study her, taking in all the differences of her true self while he waited for her reaction.

She couldn’t help but smile. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Or if I’m not there yet, I’m pretty damn close.” His eyes roamed over her face. “A real, honest-to-God alien?”

“Yeah.”

He paused. “I’ve kissed an alien?”

Challa nodded once. “You are my true mate. My blood mate.”

“True mate? Is that like your one and only?”

She was trembling so hard, her voice shook as she answered. “For my kind, we take only one life partner.”

“Guess that explains why you’re such a neophyte at kissing.”

She frowned. “A what?” Challa never noticed his other hand going past her shoulder until he gently guided her head toward him.

The kiss was tender, but not without a sense of controlled passion. Somehow she could tell he was holding back. He tasted slightly of cola, but his sweet, syrupy breath was dwarfed by the tangy lemonade scent coming from him. Before she was aware of her actions, Challa lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck.

The table disappeared. Compton got to his feet, pulling her up with him until he could slide his arms all the way around her and hold her firmly against him. His breathing accelerated and the caring lemonade smell took on the heavier, richer scent of vanilla. The unmistakable sign of lust.

She had no idea how cold she’d been until she was lifted along the heated length of his body. He was solid strength, unbending and unyielding to everything except her. She soaked in him, and reveled in his nearness and the way he took possession of her. His lips savored hers as he stroked her mouth with light, almost playful kisses. As he carefully teethed her lower lip, he gave a breathy chuckle.

“Grandma, what big teeth you have. You know, you could do some serious damage to me with those.”

Grandma? Challa lifted her face and opened her eyes to look at him. Laughter danced in his gaze. “I could never hurt you,” she confessed.

“I was teasing.”

“Oh.”

Compton reared his head back slightly. “You’re not used to being teased, are you?”

Challa shook her head. “My friends…they…”

“How many friends do you have, Challa?” he suddenly asked her. “How many people know what you really are?”

She tried to answer, but Compton beat her to it.

“One? Two? A dozen?”

“Lawson.”

He looked surprised. “Just him? Why just him?”

“He…he’s the one who caught me.”

“Caught you? How?”

“I broke into the kitchen trailer for some food. I thought it was safe. Everyone was at the show.”

“You were an alien when he caught you?”

“Yes.”

It felt unbelievably gratifying to tell him everything. It was wonderful to be able to open herself up to this man who listened without criticizing, without interruption. Without condemnation. To confess everything without restraint.

“Why were you alien, Challa, instead of human?” He frowned again, as if he’d just thought of something. “When you’re human, is that a costume?”

“No. It’s me.”

This time Compton released her and took a step back in shock. “How?”

“I…”

It wouldn’t help to try and explain. Challa knew he had to be shown. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too alarming for him to witness all at once.

“Watch me,” she said.

She did it slowly, letting him see something that even Lawson Hall had never witnessed. Compton took another step back in order to check her out from head to toe, but he never removed his hands from where they were resting on her waist. When she finished, she waited for him to make the next move.

“You’re a shape shifter.”

“That’s what Lawson calls me. That and a pod person, whatever that means.”

One corner of Compton’s mouth lifted as he snorted. “It’s a movie reference, Challa.”

“About aliens?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He ran a hand through her thick red locks. “How are you able to be human, Challa?”

“It’s something my people can do,” she answered. “I don’t know why we can change our form. We just can. We see someone we want to look like, and we…match them.” She dropped her gaze as memories from the ship floated to the surface.

* * * *

It wasn’t Kreesi waiting for them. It was a boll dremlin from Ga Tu Feenova IV. It slobbered and gnashed its rows of spinal teeth with hungry anticipation.

When the younglings hurried into the section of the ship where their teacher had ordered them to meet her, they stopped and froze in place in stark fear. Challa screamed and tried to run out of the cabin, but a female figure blocked her way.

It was the young woman known as Tiron. The female nearly everyone avoided because of her temper and her past. Of all the Ruinos on the ship, Tiron had been the unmated female most severely abused by the Arra. Challa had only heard about some of the atrocities the woman had been forced to endure, and her heart wept in sympathy.

On the tiny escape ship, there was no way to avoid anyone. No one spoke about the years they had spent as prisoners of the Arra. Most of all, the mere sight of some people brought back memories of the pain and degradation they’d all suffered. For that reason, Tiron was among those shunned.

Challa never expected Tiron to reach out and snag her shoulder, preventing her from bolting from the room. “Don’t be afraid, Challa. At least, not here on the ship. There isn’t anything to be afraid of anymore, kolli.” Tiron smiled at her, then turned and left the cabin. Challa stared at her in amazement as she heard laughter coming from behind her. She turned around to see Kreesi standing where the boll dremlin had been. The other younglings were giggling with delight at the trick that had been pulled on them, and at Challa’s embarrassment.

“It’s time you learned about your abilities.” The old woman smiled. “It’s time you learned how to use them and how to control them. Now, come back here and get ready for your lessons. All of you.” Gesturing to Challa, Kreesi said, “Why don’t you go first?”

* * * *

Compton pulled her back into his embrace, guiding her head to his shoulder. His hand continued to comb through her hair with long, slow strokes. Challa rubbed her cheek on his jacket.

“What else can you do?” he murmured.

“Like what?”

He gave an easy shrug. “I don’t know. Invisibility? Can you read minds? Shoot bolts of energy from your fingers?”

The visual image Challa got from his comment made her laugh. “No. I’m only a Ruinos. I can’t do any of that stuff.”

He sighed loudly and pulled away from her. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. We have a lot to discuss.”

Chapter 15

Loving

Challa glanced around the living room, realizing that the place made her feel welcome. Comfortable. The furniture was well used but in good condition. The sofa had a hand-crocheted afghan draped over the back. The two leather chairs were shiny from much use. The hardwood floors had woven rag rugs scattered around it. The far wall had a fireplace, and to the far right of it was a door leading to a hallway. She glanced up at Compton, who had turned on a table lamp and was gesturing toward the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll start a fire.”

He waited for her to sit down. Once she curled her legs underneath her, he pulled the afghan from behind her and wrapped her in it. Compton grinned. “Warm enough?”

“Yeah.” She smiled back.

He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and turned his attention to getting a fire going in the rock fireplace. It didn’t take long. Compton brushed his hands together once he was done and joined Challa on the sofa, pulling her against him until she was nestled along his side.

He turned off the lamp, and they watched the fire in silence. Every so often Compton would plant a kiss on top of her hair. The room was replete with fruity smells. The crackling fire was soporific. Pressed against Compton’s side, Challa felt cocooned in his love. She was floating, separated from her body, and on the verge of falling asleep when he spoke, his voice echoing inside his chest.

“Challa? Challa, don’t go to sleep on me just yet.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Compton sucked in his breath as he stared down at her. “The way your eyes glitter…that’s just freaky.” He frowned, and she realized he was thinking. “You can see in the dark?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Challa…do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

The comment earned her a smile.

* * * *

She was staring up at him with absolute trust. With those eerily beautiful blue and purple eyes. Alien eyes. Shadows from the flames dancing on their surfaces illuminated the flecks until they sparkled like swirling bits of glass.

As if his palms weren’t sweaty enough, he felt like he was burning up. Challa had no idea how much she was affecting him, and he couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way. Once he’d gotten over the shock that she was a genuine alien, having her in his arms felt natural and perfect. Alien or not, she felt like the lost puzzle piece he’d been searching for all his life. With her, he was finally complete. A whole man emotionally and mentally, if not physically.

Incredibly, it was the physical part that was knocking him for a loop. He could not remember the last time he’d had such a massive hard-on as he did at this moment. For the love of Pete, the girl wasn’t even a real girl, and his dick felt like it could pile drive fence posts into the ground.

And if that wasn’t news enough, Compton felt as if he’d just been juiced up with a hundred CCs of testosterone. The man who had been First Lieutenant Compton James Scott had emerged from his chrysalis, no longer the post-pubescent high school nerd who had enlisted soon after graduation. Or the man with two medals and a handful of commendations who had retreated back into another shell after the explosion that took his comrades and his leg.

No, not retreated. More like withdrew. The Army officer had sealed himself inside his damaged shell. After being released from the hospital, First Lieutenant Scott traded in his helmet and flak jacket for jeans and a ball cap, and made way for civilian Compton Scott. Made way for the old him to slink back into regular life and a normal, comfortable routine, and face the same prospects as he had four years ago.

Except that now he had less to offer a woman when it came to intimacy.

Challa had changed all that. Hell, Challa had changed everything. Challa was drawing him out, and giving him back his life and a reason for living again.

Compton buried his nose in her hair for the fourth or fifth time—he’d lost count, and couldn’t care less how often he did it anymore. No matter where he sniffed her, that whiff of honeysuckle continued to excite him. It wasn’t soap or shampoo. He’d bet his life on it. Neither was it perfume. When he’d held her in her alien persona, that sweet scent had been on her, the same way it was on her now in her human guise.

“Answer me something first?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Why do you smell like honeysuckle?”

Swear to God, he felt her stiffen with surprise. But at the same time, it was like fireworks were going off inside her. Compton held his breath as the sensations fluttered up to him.

“Are you sure I smell like that to you?” she asked with undisguised delight.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because it’s another way true life mates know they were meant for each other,” Challa confessed. “We each hold a very unique scent for each other.” She peered up at him. “Remember when I said you smell like oranges to me.”

“Yeah. Why oranges?” He quickly searched his memory to see if by chance he had handled any oranges recently, or drank any juice. Challa tapped his chin with a forefinger, drawing his attention back to her.

“Among my people, we can read emotions as smells. And right now you smell worried.”

“Worried? What does worry smell like?”

“Like apples.”

He managed to chuckle. “I’m beginning to feel like a fruit cocktail.” He started to say more, when Challa shifted around on the couch and halfway crawled into his lap to kiss him.

She had warmed up to the point that her flesh beneath his palms was pliant and unbelievably silky. Her hair fell across his neck and cheek as she continued to climb over his legs before she stopped, facing him, her legs straddling his. Compton stared up at her, unaware that his breathing had quickened. Unaware that his hands had slid from her back to her ribs. And at that moment his thumbs were able to caress the sides of her breasts.

Her breasts.

His thumbs twitched involuntarily. So did his erection, which tented up between them. There was no way he could hide it now, and no way she could not notice it.

“Compton, why does my Ruinos self not frighten you?”

God, he loved the way she talked. Especially the funny little way she rolled her Rs. Or flipped them. Or whatever the hell it was she did to make them sound that way.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” he whispered back. “I was raised on science fiction. Books, movies, you name it, I was a first-class geek in school, but it didn’t bother me. Not really. I always wondered what it would be like to go into outer space. Meet alien creatures. Explore strange new worlds.” He managed a tiny shrug. “Maybe, deep down, I always knew I would encounter someone like you. Who knows? I could ask the same thing of you.”

She looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Why doesn’t it frighten you that you’re in love with a human?”

Challa paused to think about his question. Her weight in his lap was doing wild things to his sex drive. Things he was uninitiated in, unfortunately. Compton tried to adjust the way he was sitting on the sofa, but it only compounded the problem. Challa shifted her buttocks until she was nearly impaling herself on him.

“Don’t laugh at me, Compton, but you’re more like a Ruinos male than you know.”

“Oh?”

It sounded stupid, coming up with a single, simple one-word response. But his body refused to focus on anything else but the growing heat in his groin, and the rich, delicious smell fogging the inside of his head because of her nearness.

Challa nodded, laying her hands on his shoulders, and bent down closer. The periphery of the world went scarlet as her hair flowed past her cheeks and blocked his view of the living room.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Compton barely had the chance to react to her question, much less answer, when Challa added, “I need to know for certain if you’re my life mate. I need to have sex with you to be sure.”

And then she kissed him.

His world went from clear-cut to absolute gray in a matter of seconds. Every cell in his body was screaming to make love with this creature, to this unearthly woman who was riding his lap with equestrian skills. But his conscience was holding the Sword of Damocles overhead, threatening to put a halt to any future he may have believed could be possible with her.

Her mouth was working miracles as Challa took the initiative. Her tongue explored him, tasted him, and her lips made soft sucking noises as she practiced on him.

Practicing. Oh, yeah. The woman was teaching herself how to kiss by imitating what he had done. Squeezing his eyes shut, Compton leaned back and let her have her fun until she paused. Her breath was a puff of honeysuckle air in his mouth.

“Compton?”

He managed to crank open his eyelids. She was so close to his face, he could see the purple glitter moving in her irises.

“I need to have sex with you to be sure.”

She was breathing heavily. Well, hell, so was he. But it was the look of worry on her face that managed to give him something to focus on.

“What do you mean, ‘to be sure’?”

“I…” Her eyes dropped to her arm, then back up to him. “A true blood bond won’t occur until after we have sex. That’s what Kreesi said. When true bond mates have sex, they have their first orgasms. Then you get the blood line in your arm. It’s the sign of a true pairing.”

Compton found the ability to chuckle. “Challa, I’m not one of your kind. How can I get a blood line in my arm? And what’s a blood line? Is there some sort of cutting ritual involved?”

His brain was defogging. He tried sitting up a little straighter. Challa never moved, nor did she take her eyes off of his. What she was telling him was slowly sinking in after elbowing its way through the sexual haze he’d been caught up in.

When true bond mates have sex, they have their first orgasms.

“Shit, Challa! First orgasms?”

She nodded and started to say something when he interrupted. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

“No. I—”

“Are you a virgin?”

She never got the chance to reply when a grenade went off in his head.

…they have their first orgasms.

How the fuck did she know?

“Compton?”

“Challa, how did you know I’ve never had an orgasm? I mean, inside a woman?”

He had no idea how she would answer the question, but he knew he wasn’t expecting what she replied.

“You could not be my true mate if you had.”

Chapter 16

Cementing

Challa started to kiss him again, but Compton knew the time for that was over. There was one enormous roadblock still to overcome, and until they both met it head-on, nothing further would come of tonight. Not having sex, not loving Challa—not a damn thing.

Almost too roughly, he pulled her away from him and set her down on the sofa next to him. At first she looked bewildered. Confused. Then tears started welling up in her eyes.

“What’s wrong? What did I do wrong?”

He hurried to reassure her. “Nothing, Challa. You’ve done nothing wrong. But there’s a lot I haven’t told you that is important for you to know before this goes any further.”

She sniffed and nodded and waited.

“I need to tell you what happened to me while I was overseas. It’s…oh, damn. It’s not pretty. And what I have to show you is downright ugly. But you have to know.”

“Okay.”

Damn it, his hands were shaking like he had palsy or something. Compton cursed himself for his weakness. At the same time, he prayed that what he had to tell her, and what he had to show her, wouldn’t change what they had between them. But he was scared shitless, anyway. It was too soon in their relationship. The fragile thread between them wouldn’t be enough to survive the next hour, and he could almost feel his heart starting to shrivel at the thought.

“Challa…Challa, I was injured.”

She gave him a quick grin. “Is that why you creak?”

“Huh?”

She reached over and touched his prosthetic leg, feeling it through the denim. “It makes a funny creaking noise.”

“You can hear it?” He knew the joints tended to make little sounds, but it was inaudible to him whenever he had his jeans on. He watched her nod in answer.

“Your leg.”

“It’s a prosthetic,” he explained. “To replace the one that got blown off.”

Her eyes widened in fear. “You were tortured?”

“No, not directly. My rig was hit by an RPG. That’s a rocket propelled grenade. Two of us were killed instantly. Another one of my buddies died in the hospital. I’m the only one who survived, but I lost a leg and…”

He realized it was going to be harder than he thought, but it had to come out. Mentally keeping his fingers crossed, Compton gently pushed her off of him and stood to unbuckle his belt. Unzipping his jeans gave him a bit of trouble, but he finally managed to pull them over his stiff erection. After so many years in the military, he’d stopped wearing any underwear. Going commando was probably the only habit he’d kept after becoming a civilian again.

He let the pants drop to the floor and waited for her to get a good look at the reason for his reluctance. “It’s okay with me if you want to touch.”

She gave him an odd look before turning her attention to his package. A minute passed in silent inspection. Then another. She ran a fingertip around the edge of the prosthesis and the inch-thick foam pillow that padded what little portion of his leg was left below his hip. She barely gave the leglike replica a second glance before moving her attention to his genitals.

Challa reached over to push aside his heavy thickness that almost touched her face. “You have only one man sac?”

“Yeah. The other got blown away. The doctors keep telling me I can still have kids, but…” He bit his lip to keep himself from yammering. He couldn’t allow himself to run at the mouth at this stage. It was too damn important that Challa make her decision without him trying to sway her.

She touched the tip of the scarred penis. It bobbed slightly but remained jutting firmly forward before it angled slightly upward and to her right.

“Why does your manpipe look like that?”

“My what? My manpipe?”

Challa glanced up at him. “That is what we call this part of a man’s body. What does your kind call it?”

“Technically, it’s called a penis. Guys also refer to it as their cock or their dick or their johnson. There are other words we use, but they’re not public terms.” He managed a ragged breath. So far, so good. At least she hadn’t made a face at it, or appeared put off by the sight of it.

“It got…burned. The doctors did what they could to save it, but the scar tissue keeps it from being straight.”

“Can you still feel with it?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Thank God for that.

He continued to stare down at her as she tentatively touched him. Her slender fingers slid across the rough, prominent ridges running down the side. Her touch made his dick quiver. Her mouth was so close to the head, he could feel her breathing on it. His skin started to pucker in anticipation.

God, what he wouldn’t give to have her take him in that ripe little mouth and suck him till the cows came home.

“I was lucky that day in that I survived. But as for having a healthy sex life before or afterwards… You’re right, Challa. I’ve never had sex. It’s a…long story.”

“Will it…hurt…to have sex?” she faintly whispered. She didn’t have to tell him she was as worried as he was.

And then it hit him.

She still wanted him. She still wanted to have sex with him.

Holy Hallelujah! If he could have done back flips, he would have.

Compton reached down to take her hands and lift her off the couch, unable to keep the smile from splitting his face. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power not to hurt you,” he softly said.

“No. I don’t mean me. I mean you,” Challa corrected him. “Will it hurt you to have sex?”

Hurt me? Compton mentally slapped himself on the forehead. You numbskull! You have one nut, and your wacker looks like it was put through the sausage grinder, and she’s worried about you!

Rule Eight: Always take the offense if there’s no reason to take the defense.

God help me. We have the blind leading the blind.

He pulled her into his arms, seeking her lips. Challa eagerly came to him and hungrily gave in. Somehow he sensed an emptiness in her that she was finally allowing to be filled. An emptiness, a hunger, and a need. Plus a nearly overwhelming sense of happiness. It sparked the fuel between them, until there was combustion.

Compton felt the hidden animal inside him come forth with a possessive roar. Challa was his, was meant to be his, and would always be his.

More astonishing was the fact that her being from an alien race didn’t affect his feelings for her one iota. That alone was enough to blow him out of the water. When he should be petrified with fear, he was on the verge of starting a brand new chapter in his life. No. Fuck the chapter. A whole new book!

Her mouth was pure honey. Awkwardly, she pressed herself against him, in spite of the fact that a length of petrified wood was determined to keep them separated. Grabbing one of her hands, he drew it downward until she found his length, gripped it, and gradually he showed her how to pump him. Challa did so without question, setting off powder kegs in his blood with every push and pull.

Compton gasped for air, groaning loudly then hissing air between his teeth back into his lungs. “God, woman. You just don’t know…”

…how so fucking good it feels. How so absolutely wonderful you smell. And taste. And feel beneath my hands.

He could touch her without repercussion, and he took every advantage, starting first with her breasts. To his delight, her nipples were like little bullets. Hard and prominent, he carefully pinched them to see how she would react. Challa gave a little cry of surprise. A second later, she almost attacked him in retaliation, shoving her whole body against his.

Compton fought for his balance for a split second before letting go and falling back onto the couch. But he took Challa with him, dragging her down into his lap and his arms.

His ears caught the sound of something ripping. Too late, Compton realized he’d torn the sheer fabric body suit. Before he could apologize, she shimmied out of it and tossed it away from them.

She helped him shed the jacket then pulled the shirt over his head. Compton shook himself free, letting his clothes drop over the back of the sofa. He was left with his pants around his ankles, but he couldn’t kick out of them with Challa perched on his lap.

Looking up at the loving expression on her face, he gasped. The firelight threw patterns of light over her skin and hair, giving her skin and face a burnished glow. Her breasts hung suspended within reach, awaiting his hands. Her hair seemed to move on its own, a living cape in scarlets and golds. If she was uncommonly pretty in the daylight, Challa was a vision of unearthly loveliness in the near dark.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, do you know that?” he whispered.

She laughed softly as she reached down with both hands to grasp him. Again, Compton was amazed by the fact that his deformity didn’t faze her, much less put her off. He tried to watch as she slid the scarred skin up and down over the hard and heavy muscle, until the deformed helmet head was as dark as her hair. When she leaned over to drop a light kiss on his chin, and her nipples rubbed over his bare chest, a shock of desire jolted his entire body. Compton immediately grabbed her hands to stop her.

“I want…I want to be in you,” he barely managed to gasp. It was taking every ounce of willpower not to come right then and there. Her reply stunned him.

“How?”

His eyes flew open to find her waiting for his answer. “How…what?”

Oh, dear God, is she asking how I could make love to her with my dick looking the way it does? Or is she needing to know how we could manage without my leg?

Self-doubt and recrimination washed back over him as he remained in mute confusion. After a few more moments, Challa cocked her head at him. “Do you want me to lie down on the couch? Or the floor?”

On the floor?

Compton suddenly realized Challa wasn’t talking about his dick or his leg. She was talking about location! His brain went fuzzy as his worry vanished, and the load on his shoulders disappeared. He was vaguely aware of Challa sliding off of him and giving his hands a tug. He soon found himself on the rug next to the hearth. When she took his face between her hands and kissed him, all inhibitions dispersed like mist facing the sunshine.

It was glorious to feel her kissing him. He loved the way she tasted and licked his lips and mouth in ways he had never experienced. The warmth coming from the fire changed her honeysuckle smell into something darker, richer, and more erotic. It almost resembled a jungle scent, unrestrained and primitive. Involuntarily he lifted his hips toward her, and something clattered in the background, nearly shattering the mood.

“Let me get this damn thing off,” Compton muttered, and reached down to quickly undo the straps keeping the artificial leg attached. He shoved it away from them then rolled over, taking Challa with him, until she was lying underneath. She gazed up at him, wide-eyed, at the sudden, unexpected shift in positions. “Am I too heavy?” he asked her.

She laughed lightly and shook her head, pulling his face back down. His right hand found her breast, and he barely had time to realize how utterly soft and firm it was when his dick sent a second, more urgent message to his brain.

Shifting his weight slightly, Compton stared down at the silky skin between her legs, and the cleft of her inner lips lying beneath his erection. One move, one quick wiggle, and he knew he would sink inside her, and those lips would wrap around his quivering shaft like a velvet casing. He blinked.

“You’re…”

He lowered a hand between them to make sure he wasn’t imagining the fact that she shaved. He’d read about women who did that. He’d heard other guys talk about how baby soft skin was. But he had never dreamed he would encounter someone who actually did it.

He touched her, letting his fingertips stroke her bare mound. Challa gasped softly.

“That feels so good.”

He glanced back into her face and her half-closed eyes. She was enjoying his caresses as much as he loved touching her.

“You feel incredible,” he murmured.

Challa jiggled her hips. Her breasts swayed with the movement, drawing his eyes down to the scarlet tips. He started to lean down to lick them when he felt the head of his erection slip inside her hot, wet heat, and the sensation nearly drove him insane.

There was no chance to think about the next step. Or what he had to do. Or what he needed to do. There was no chance to savor the sheer slippery perfection of pressing into her tight channel and burrowing himself inside. Instinct drove him to dive deeply into her body, forcing himself past nerve endings that were awakening for the first time and firing under his invasion.

Challa shrieked softly and lifted her knees. The action gave him easier access to her innermost depths, and Compton withdrew slightly to slam back inside her, this time harder and deeper. His scarred penis reacted to Challa’s warmth, and his body’s reaction stunned him. Before he was aware of what he was doing, his hips were seesawing up and down like a pumpjack. Every time he withdrew, he rammed back inside with increasing ferocity.

This is so fucking unbelievable!

Her arms went under his arms and around his back. Her fingers clutched muscles that years of training had turned into steel. He tried to keep most of his weight on his arms and elbows, but he knew she was supporting him without complaint. Burying his nose in her wealth of hair, Compton let go, and nature took over.

He rode her, pumping relentlessly inside her as his dick seemed to expand even thicker with every thrust. Challa wrapped herself around him physically and emotionally, taking him as deeply as possible. She convulsed, and the pressure around his shaft tightened to the point where Compton could no longer control himself.

Heat, pressure, and her unbelievably silken wetness did him in. Compton yelled as he came inside her, and the release was mind-blowing.

His hips continued to jerk, riding out his orgasm as his body tried to absorb her into his bloodstream. Challa started to make a high-pitched keening sound inside her throat. In the next instant her whole body went rigid. She threw back her head as she shuddered. Her nails sank into his back, and Compton felt his dick being clamped into a vise.

He was trapped inside her, unable to move or think.

It was perfect.

And it was only their first time.

Chapter 17

Blood Line

The fireplace crackled. Compton stirred and started to roll over to check to see if it needed his attention. Challa reached for him as she felt his warmth leave her.

“No.”

“Hey. It’s my back to the fire. I have enough burns as it is. Hold on.” He chuckled and looked to see if he’d remembered to put the screen up. He had, although he had no immediate memory of putting it up. Hell, he had no memory of the past hour other than what had happened between them.

Satisfied all was well, he rolled back over and gathered her back against his chest.

“Something is jabbing me,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

He propped himself up on one arm and looked down. Somehow they had turned themselves around on the rag rug, and it was the foot of his prosthesis that was toeing her in the small of her back.

“What time is it?” she murmured sleepily.

By the glowing hands on his watch, he could see it was just after two in the morning. The fire was dying, and the room was steadily getting colder. Not to mention the fact that the floor was not the most comfortable place to spend the night. Although Compton had slept under worse conditions during the time he was enlisted, it didn’t mean he had to now. Especially with Challa in his arms.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Challa started to rise with him, but stopped. Compton gave her a questioning look.

“I have to change,” she whispered.

“Change what?”

“Change…me.”

Before he could ask what she meant, her human side slowly dissolved, and her alien persona emerged. He was surprised to see how her facial features remained the same while her hair appeared to flow back into her scalp and her skin took on darker hues. Compton watched in silent awe at the transformation. Once she was finished, Challa sniffed.

“It doesn’t bother you.” She said it as a flat statement, not as a question. Then she sniffed again. The sound of it made him smile.

“Okay, I give. What do you smell?”

In the faint light being thrown off by the fire, she appeared less green, and more brown and black. Her eyes were wide and glittering. The swirl of purplish specks reminded him of water balls filled with fake snow. Reaching over, he touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and the most incredible feeling of caring rolled through him.

“God, I love you.”

Challa smiled. “I know. You smell like love.”

“Really?”

The fire popped again. Compton reached for his prosthesis and began attaching it. Once he was finished, he got to his feet and helped Challa up. He noticed she kept glancing down at her arm.

“What’s the matter? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” When she didn’t elaborate further, he led her into the back bedroom where he slept. Light from the security lamp he’d installed near the house was streaming through the window. Challa threw back the bedcovers and climbed in. “Oooh, it’s cooooold.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.” He chuckled, and saw her glance again at her arm. Instead of asking, he took her wrist and looked at it himself, but the skin was unblemished. “Why do you keep looking at your arm?”

She shrugged and gave him a wistful smile. “I want to see if I’ve changed.”

Laughing, he drew his arms around her and brought her hairless head to rest on his shoulder. She was right; the sheets were like ice. He chose to ignore the fact that he still had his fake leg on. It was very late…or very early, depending on one’s point of view. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to waste any time messing with it again. “All right. I’m totally in the dark here. Change how this time? Into a human? Or an alien again?”

“Into a woman.”

Her remark surprised him and reminded him of what had happened between them. She was a woman now. And that meant he was a man.

He couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin he wore at the thought.

“Compton?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“What happens tomorrow? Are you really going to take me to the authorities?” Her voice sounded drowsy. He could relate. His body felt as if he’d taken some of those muscle relaxants the doctors had prescribed for him.

“Yeah. Tomorrow I’ll take you over to the sheriff’s office. I mean, today. Later.”

She raised her head to look at him. Her feeling of panic was like little sparks going off around them. “What? You meant it?”

He shushed her to ease her fear. “Don’t worry. I told you, I witnessed the whole thing. I’ll tell Sheriff Barstow it was clearly a case of self-defense. He’ll ask you a few questions, but I’m pretty sure he won’t charge you.”

“I can’t go to jail, Compton. I can’t.”

He kissed her forehead. “Even if you do, it’ll only be for a few hours. If I have to, I’ll find a way to post your bail.”

“No,” Challa insisted, rising up on one arm and giving his shoulders a little shake with her free hand. “It’s too much like when I was a prisoner, Compton. Please don’t make me go there. I don’t care if it’ll only be for a few hours. I can’t…” She shook her head despondently, unable to continue.

Compton guided her face back down to his shoulder. “Challa, you have to trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

She tentatively sniffed then he felt her smile.

“See? I meant it,” Compton chuckled.

He rolled over to half-lay across her in order to give her his body warmth. Pressing his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he let his hands roam over her body, from the back of her head down to her buttocks. He marveled at how smooth and seductive she felt. Warm. Vibrant. Her skin was softer than brushed cotton.

His fingers grazed the little armor-like plates lapping down her spinal ridge, and she sighed contentedly. The sound made his dick jerk to attention. He started to tell her he wanted to make love to her again, but he could feel himself sliding toward oblivion.

It didn’t matter. There would be time come the morning. In fact, they had all the time in the world. The thought made him smile against her fragrant neck. After tomorrow, once this mess was cleared up with the sheriff, he would ask Challa to marry him. And then they would have a lifetime together to explore the wonders of the universe.

And it would all start tomorrow.

* * * *

“How will we know, Kreesi?”

“By the blood line that will form here,” the elder explained. She held up her arm for them all to see. The blood line was no wider than a filament and ran from the wrist nearly to the elbow on her inner arm. “Mine is black because my mate is dead,” Kreesi explained sadly. “But when yours appears, it will glisten like the stars.”

“What else?” Amfinn eagerly asked. “Is there anything else?”

The oldling smiled. “Yes, but only after you have mated.”

“Oooh, tell us, Kreesi! Tell us!” several of them cried out, but the woman adamantly refused.

“You will learn in time. Do not ask me again. I will not tell you anything more because I do not want to spoil the surprise.”

Challa opened her eyes to see the light from outside throwing itself across the patterned quilt. Once more she raised her arm to look at the unblemished, unlined skin. And her heart crashed to the ground.

No blood line. There was no blood line, which meant Compton wasn’t meant to be her real life mate.

But how was that possible? All the other signs where there! The smell, the orgasms—even the fact that he had never had sex before was almost as positive a sign as the blood line!

She lifted her face to where she could see Compton relaxed in sleep. Her body felt replete. Her blood sang in her veins. But the blood line did not form. The ultimate proof of mating was not in her arm, and Challa was certain enough time had passed for it to appear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and fought back the tears.

Compton wasn’t her blood mate. Then why did she feel that he was? Why did he have that wonderfully soothing smell of oranges? Why did the touch of his hands wipe all thought out of her mind, and make her body shake?

Why? Why can’t he be? Why isn’t he? Oh, Kreesi! What I wouldn’t give for you to be here to tell me!

Unfortunately, Kreesi had died a few hours before landing on this world. Challa remembered Jebaral giving them the good news that a suitable planet had been found that could sustain them, and that they would be landing at their new home shortly. The oldling had smiled, gave everyone her blessing, and slipped into a sleep from which she never awakened.

Kreesi had been the closest thing to a mother Challa had ever known. At the oldling’s passing, Challa had mourned deeply and in private. Even now, years later, the memory of the old woman’s kindness and caring tore through her heart.

And now, with the knowledge that Compton was not meant to be her life mate, Challa felt her heart shredding in grief.

Rising up into a sitting position, Challa stared out at the road that wound its way from the house to the little highway that led into town. She wanted to get up and run. The urge was a steady pounding in her skull, keeping pace with the beat of her heart.

She could run…but where to? Back to the carnival? Or to another town?

Could she leave Compton behind when even now her body yearned to feel him digging himself back into her until they reached that moment of sun-bright perfection again?

What to do? What to do?

Burying her face in her hands, Challa allowed herself to weep. She was in love with Compton. There was no doubt in her mind. All of what she felt and he felt was true. He had to be her blood mate…

…with the exception of…

A sudden idea burst into her mind, making her freeze at the possibility. What if there was no blood line because Compton was human? Because he wasn’t Ruinos?

Then how do I explain the other signs that are there? Why would he have a scent? Why would I have an orgasm? Why would he be able to have his first orgasm, too?

Why isn’t there a blood line?

Because he’s not your blood mate, a tiny voice burred in her ear. The voice sounded just like one of the Arra, raking through her mind like claws over soft tissue.

Challa sobbed as fresh tears rolled down her face. In the morning Compton would take her to their law officers, and they would determine what punishment she would face for cutting off that man’s hand.

But until then, she had a few more hours left to share with Compton. To lie beside him,enveloped in his warmth. To be able to touch him and exchange a few more kisses come the morning. And maybe, maybe, make love one final time.

She reached down between her legs and touched the evidence, the wetness and slight soreness. Yes, at least once more. They had to, because she had every belief that once he took her away from this haven, she would never be able to be with him again.

Chapter 18

Separation

Soft kisses tickled her neck. A warm breath brushed over her skin, and Compton licked her collarbone.

“Sweet Jesus, you even taste like honeysuckle!”

At some point during the night she had cried herself to sleep, and slept soundly until he awakened her. Opening her eyes, Challa saw his ear and the back of his head as he continued to work his mouth over her.

Her body responded to his gentleness. Her breasts came alive, and she started to ask him to cradle them when his hand moved on its own to cup her. Calloused fingers tweaked her nipple, and her need blossomed aching and wet between her legs.

“Mmm. I can’t believe how great you smell.”

He kneed her legs apart and fitted himself snugly against her mound. When he rubbed the head of his engorged member between her inner lips, the rough, scarred skin seared her clits. Challa clutched him with razored talons and shoved her abdomen against his groin. She tried to call out his name, but her brain blanked out as he continued to tease her with his hand, his mouth, and his erection. Nudging her entrance, but not yet penetrating. Teasing, whetting her appetite and his with love play.

His tongue, rough and wet, circled underneath her chin. “Watch those hands, honey.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t used to making love, much less having this kind of contact with another person. Especially as her true self. Challa glanced down at him. “Want me to be human again?”

“Please?”

It wasn’t her Ruinos self he was afraid of. It was her sharp blades, and what she might accidentally do in the throes of sex.

Outside the sun was just starting to break above the trees. Challa changed as she felt her skin beginning to tighten, molding itself into permanent shape as the sun’s rays locked her into her human form for the day.

Compton tugged lightly on her hair, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes were filled with passion. And love. There was no way she could mistake the love.

“Make me a man again, Challa,” he whispered in a voice as sinfully sexy as the acts he was performing on her.

Rather than answer, she reached for his buttocks and pressed down. Compton sank deep into her with one thrust. The sensation of being suddenly and totally filled left her gasping for breath. But when he began to pull out of her, she struggled to have him back inside. She had to have him pressing as deeply and as far into her as was humanly possible. Scraping over her fragile inner tissue with his erection that was as rough as having sandpaper shoved within her weeping channel.

Compton pumped her again, moaning her name like a prayer. He shifted his position slightly then rolled onto his back, dragging her almost effortlessly with him, until Challa found herself on top and lying against his strong chest and flat belly.

“Sit up,” he ordered softly.

She tried. By the heavens above, she tried, but the heavy pole rammed inside her was doing wonderful and wicked things to her. It was turning her mind to mush, and making her body burn out of control. Instinctively, she placed her hands against his ribs and lifted herself just enough to where his erection was partway out. Compton immediately countered with a thrust of his hips, and her body jerked with the invasion.

“T’kor!”

“Ride me, Challa,” he almost growled. His hands were on her thighs, lifting her then thrusting her back down over him. She lost all sense of the present as every cell in her body focused on their joining. On the hot joy they were sharing that made their bodies shimmer with perspiration. On the perfection of making love.

He continued to guide her, pushing himself upward as he pulled her down. Shoving himself over and over into her with faster and more frantic intensity. Challa could feel her peak growing, rising, brightening like a giant white star, until it slammed into her without warning.

She screamed, but Compton continued to work her. He was grunting now with every thrust, and groaned when her contractions nearly squeezed the blood from his dick. Challa had no recollection of how long he powered into her until his body went rigid and he threw his head back with a howl. He shuddered under her, and she could feel his seed squirting inside her, hot and thick.

When he collapsed on the mattress, he also released her hips, and Challa draped herself over him, snuggling against his chest. The scent of warm oranges tinged with the equally tangy smell of lemonade filled her head.

She almost burst into tears. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. How could loving him be so perfect? And yet they weren’t life mates?

His body jerked. His hands left warm patches on her bare skin when he lifted them off of her. “What time is it?” She felt him raise his arm and heard his sigh. “It’s after seven. Gives us time for a quick shower and some breakfast.” One large hand gently brushed away the hair that had fallen over her face. “How do you feel?”

She quickly swiped at her tears. “Strange.” It was an honest answer. What she didn’t expect was for him to suddenly lift her off his chest so he could gaze into her face.

“Are you crying? Why? Did I—”

“No,” she hurried to assure him. Somehow she was able to put a smile on her face. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Compton. You’ve done everything…right.” A quick kiss was enough to convince him. A sweet kiss. A tender kiss that threatened to deepen into another passionate coupling until Compton reluctantly pulled back.

“Come on. I want to bathe you.”

He didn’t dump his artificial leg until they got to the bathroom. She started the water while he lit an old gas flame heater. Challa noticed how he watched her with an amused look on his face as she used the toilet.

“I have to pee just like you do,” she commented.

“I figured you might be built similarly, considering we just had the most fantastic sex in the world.” He chuckled. He continued to watch as she pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped into the spray, wetting down herself and her hair. “Why don’t you change so I can see you bathing as an alien?”

She wiped the water from her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Huh?”

“Once the sun comes up, it locks me into whatever shape I’ve taken. I can’t change until after dark.”

“Honest?”

She shot him a look that immediately got a grin in return.

“So, when morning comes, what? Do you have to set the alarm every night just so you can wake up in time to change into your human self before sunrise?”

“Actually, I’ve managed to adapt to changing into a human just as my body senses it. Sort of. I mean, I can still be asleep, but I change anyway without having to be awake to think about it.” She glanced pointedly at his wristwatch where he’d set it on the back of the sink. “It’s not too different from waking up at the same time each morning, even if you don’t set your clock to wake you.”

“Okay. That was an honest answer.” Compton chuckled. “Move over. I’m coming in.”

The handrails made sense to her now as she watched him move with the rhythm and grace of a gymnast, shifting his weight from one hand to the other, back and forth, as he balanced on his single leg. He reached past her to snag a washcloth.

“Care to put some of that shower gel on this for me?” he asked, indicating a bottle sitting on a small shelf behind her. Challa quickly complied. “Turn around,” he ordered, and began to scrub her back and buttocks with one hand.

He moved slowly, almost provocatively, over her skin. Pushing aside her hair in order to get to her neck and shoulders. After going over her sides and hips, he bent down to do the backs of her legs. The only sounds in the bathroom were the soft hiss of the gas heater, the steady downpour from the shower, and Compton’s loud breathing.

“Okay. Now turn around.”

Challa turned to face him, and was met by the sight of his member protruding like a crooked club from his groin. She started to reach for it, but stopped herself. Instead, she looked up into his face and smiled.

“Challa, you’re too damn beautiful for your own good,” he muttered. The hand holding the soapy rag reached out to caress her breasts. Challa became aware of the foam slowly drifting downward as he continued to bathe her. “Tell me something?”

“What?”

“How is it you’re able to look human?”

“Kreesi said we can mimic almost every sentient life form. It’s something Ruinos have always been able to do. I don’t know why or how. That much was never explained to me.”

“Who’s Kreesi?”

“She…was…my teacher. She was the oldling on the ship. She taught those of us who needed to learn the ways of the Ruinos.” Challa smiled. “She’s the one who told us how we would find our life mate, and what to look for.”

“Where is Kreesi now? Is she at the carnival?” He was finished with her waist and ribs, and was bending over to do her lower extremities. “Spread your legs.”

Challa spread them as much as she was able in the narrow confines of the tub. Compton slid the rag between her legs, teasing between her lower lips, and rubbing the soapy cloth over her nubs. A shiver ran through her, and Compton smiled.

“Like that?”

“Yes.”

“If this tub wasn’t so damn hard on the knee, I’d get down and see if I could make you come with my mouth.”

The mere thought of him taking her that way was enough to send a wave of shivers trickling through her. When he took his hand away, she opened her eyes to stare at him. Instead, the washcloth was hanging an inch away from her nose.

“Now you do me,” Compton said.

She waited for him to hop around and present his back to her while she applied a bit more shower gel to the rag. Instead of starting with his back, she kneeled down and began with his foot and calf.

“Challa, you said a woman named Kreesi was your teacher?”

“Yes.”

“What about your parents? Were they with you?”

She started to answer when Compton gave a bark of laughter.

“Sorry, honey. There’s so many questions I want to ask you. A lot of questions. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” she honestly replied. “My parents are dead. They died on the ship.”

“On the escape ship?”

“No. On the slave ship.”

She loved the way his buttocks clenched when she washed them. He moved, and she glanced up to see him peering down at her. “Can I ask how they died?” he softly said.

“They were tortured.”

At those words, memories rose up like a thick cloud of dust. The screaming. The blood. Heavens give me mercy. There was so much blood the smell remained on her for days afterward. Challa was unaware of her reaction until warm, wet fingers lightly touched her forehead.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Look, we’ll talk about it later, okay? When you’re able to tell me more.”

Nodding slightly, Challa sniffed and got to her feet to work on his back and arms. She noticed there were many small scars and signs of older wounds. Compton bent his head to let her wash his neck.

“You were hurt, too.”

“Yeah. When they pulled me out of what was left of the Humvee, the paramedics originally gave me less than a twenty percent chance of survival.”

“Why did you go to war, Compton? Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger?”

She paused in her ministrations. Compton obligingly turned around to let her wash his front. Amazingly, his erection never flagged. He saw her staring at it and blushed.

“I guess Old Glory is trying to make up for lost time.”

Challa gave him a puzzled look. This time Compton chuckled.

“Men like to name their dicks. I call mine Old Glory. No big deal.”

“You are a strange man, Compton Scott.” She laughed. “Now answer my question. Why would you deliberately go somewhere where you could be killed?”

“It’s…it’s a long story. The Reader’s Digest version is this. I was a nerd all my years in school. I was fat. The stereotypical outcast with braces and zits. The whole works. I had few friends and nada girlfriends. The other kids at school called me names like ‘in-Comp-etent’ and ‘nin-Comp-poop’. I hated the idea of going to college and taking another four or five years of name calling. So after I gave it one semester to please my mom, I decided to enlist in the Army.”

He sighed and closed his eyes as she bathed his hard-on. Her hands were gentle around his ball, and especially careful with the stump of his missing leg.

“That’s why you had never made love before,” Challa murmured.

“Huh?” Compton opened his eyes to see her smiling at him.

“You said you enlisted in the Army,” she reminded him.

“Yeah. I enlisted. Let me tell you, after six weeks in boot camp and six more weeks of skill drills, I didn’t look anything like the old Compton Scott. I lost a lot of weight, and I actually packed on some muscles!”

The rag slid over his pecs and nipples. His skin goose pimpled from her touch. A shiver shot from his brain to his groin, and his erection bobbed against her belly.

“I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the day,” he apologized. “Hurry up, Challa. Or else I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and somehow get you back onto that bed.”

She gave him a wide-eyed, happy look. “I won’t mind!”

Chuckling, Compton also groaned. “Shit. Don’t do this to me. Hurry up. The sooner we get you to the sheriff’s office, the sooner we can get your name cleared.”

She stepped aside to let the tepid water rinse him off. “What will happen after that?”

He wiped water from his eyes before replying. “After that, I’m taking you over to city hall to apply for a marriage license.”

Chapter 19

Breakfast

Several hard flicks to his dick finally brought his erection down enough to where Compton could pull on his jeans. His skin felt like a swarm of angry bees were dive-bombing him, and his ball was drawn up inside his body cavity.

Two strong comes, and they hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of his need for her. Now Compton could understand why people went on honeymoons where they could assuage their hunger for each other whenever the need overwhelmed them.

“Compton, what can I wear?”

Challa was finished with combing the tangles out of her long hair. Wet hair that was the color of his mother’s American Evening Sunset roses that still bloomed outside the bedroom window. Her question reminded him she’d only been wearing the thin body suit when they had arrived at the house last night. The suit he had shredded by accident in his haste to strip it off of her.

“Uhh, hold on. Let me check up in the attic.”

After his mother died, Compton had placed all her clothes and private possessions in several boxes, and stored them in the attic. He didn’t have the heart to give them away, figuring that once he was gone, too, whoever came to take care of his things would pass the other stuff along for him.

He found the box of clothing where he remembered putting it, and carried it into the bedroom to place it on the bed. He was aware of the fact that Challa had made the bed during his brief absence. For being such an ordinary chore, her orderliness surprised him.

“Mom was petite like you. One of her dresses might fit you.”

Challa gave him a smile of thanks as she opened the box and dug inside. She pulled out a simple house dress in navy blue with buttons running down the front. Compton remembered his mother calling it her Sunday go-to-church dress.

Challa quickly slipped it over her head. The bust was a bit loose, but otherwise the garment seemed to work. She stared down at her bare feet. “What size feet did she have? I’m a six and a half.”

“Sorry. I didn’t save the shoes. How about a pair of my dress socks?” The combination wouldn’t look fashionable, but at least her feet wouldn’t be cold. Compton dug a navy blue pair out of his bureau drawer and tossed them to her. A quick glance at the alarm clock by the bed read twenty minutes until eight. “Toaster waffles okay with you?” he asked.

“Anything warm.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

He nodded and left the bedroom to start breakfast as he buttoned up his long-sleeved flannel shirt. He was digging in the fridge for the bacon when Challa joined him. Compton glanced up as he closed the refrigerator door to see her staring out the window over the kitchen sink. “Penny for your thoughts.”

Challa pointed outside. “Your thermometer nailed to the tree. It says it’s fifty degrees outside.”

“We must have had a small cold snap come in last night. How about some bacon with your waffles?”

“No, thanks.”

“How about some sausage patties? Won’t take but a couple of minutes in the microwave.”

Challa shook her head. “Nope. I don’t eat meat.”

Compton paused, holding the package of paper plates. “Oh? You don’t?”

“I mean I can’t.” She flashed him a warm smile and took the same seat at the table that she’d sat in last night. “I can’t seem to stomach meat of any kind. Bet you think that’s odd, don’t you?”

Odd wasn’t the word, considering how the memory of her mouth filled with those needle-sharp teeth and her long talons appeared in his mind’s eye. Before he could comment, Challa giggled. “Are you thinking about my Ruinos teeth?”

“Uhh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Lawson thought the same thing.” She threw a lock of hair over her shoulder almost absentmindedly. In the early morning sunlight streaming through the window and spreading across her and the table, she glowed like a lit candle. “Kreesi said our teeth look the way they do because our planet had very tough plants that we ate. Same thing for our talons.” She looked at her human hands.

“Why do you have the talons?” He set a paper plate of waffles in front of her, along with a cup of coffee.

“To cut the plants. And to help us climb them.” She reached for the bottle of syrup as the microwave dinged. “That’s why we have wings. I mean, the females have wings. To let us glide from treetop to treetop.”

Compton took the seat across from her. “Your men don’t have wings?”

Challa answered with a shake of her head. “They have huge claws instead of talons,” she told him. “They use them to till the ground. Kreesi said our people were farmers.”

He chuckled. “I knew that bucket of bloody guts in your cage had to be a prop.”

“Yeah. Lawson thought it would make the people fear me more.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Compton got up to refill their coffee cups, waiting to sit back down before he broached the subject he had been mulling over in his mind ever since last night.

“Challa, after we get this settled there’s something I’d like for you to do.”

She glanced at him over her cup. Her eyebrows went up questioningly. “What?”

He kept his eyes focused on her face, on those incredible blue eyes with amethyst flakes. “Remember what I said earlier? I meant it. I want us to take a walk over to city hall and apply for a marriage license.”

Her face paled. “I heard you, but…marriage?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Compton took the plunge. “I don’t care that you’re from another world. I want to get to know you better. I want to spend the rest of our lives getting to know everything about you. About your world and your people. Challa, I want to marry you…if you’re willing to have me.”

He watched as her face went from pale to pink. Those intense eyes widened as they filled with tears. Compton dropped his gaze to stare at his half-eaten breakfast.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. That’s all.” He glanced at his watch to check the time. “If you’re done, we need to head into town.” He got to his feet and drained his cup, dumping his plate in the trash, and taking the empty cup and utensils to the sink without looking back at her. She joined him at the sink with hers. He watched as she reached over and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

“I cannot promise you anything, Compton,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “I learned a long time ago not to make plans. It’s too painful if the future forces you to change them. Let’s…let’s go to the sheriff’s office. Then we’ll go from there, okay?”

Compton allowed himself to finally look at her. Her face was pleading, but there was no hope, no promise in her eyes.

Worst of all, there was no happiness.

Chapter 20

Statement

He wanted to marry her. Compton wanted to take her as his life mate, when it was impossible. Worse, she couldn’t tell him that because it would tear him apart emotionally. She could never be so callous as to reveal that fact to him. Challa knew she loved him deeply, and the one thing she would never do would be to hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally.

The truck slogged through the muddy road leading away from the farmhouse until it reached the slightly better paved one. Challa stared out the passenger side window as they headed down the county road toward town. There was a dull, dark ache in the center of her chest that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes it hurt to the point where she couldn’t breathe. At other times, like now, it was a persistent reminder of how alone she was in the world. She didn’t even know if there were any Ruinos left alive on Earth. If it hadn’t been for Lawson discovering her, and giving her a place to sleep and food to eat in exchange for her acting in the carnival, Challa knew she would probably be dead by now.

She crossed her arms over her chest. It gave her the opportunity to look at the pale expanse of flesh on her inner arm. The unmarked flesh because there was no blood line there. It wouldn’t be so bad if her body hadn’t orgasmed. But it had, and according to Kreesi and the other females on the ship, that moment was as proof-positive as the blood line.

She shifted her eyes to glance surreptitiously at Compton, whose focus was on the road ahead. The truck’s cab was filled with the sweet bite of pungent, ripe oranges. A quick drop to his lap didn’t show any rising, but in her mind’s eye she could still envision every scar and blood vessel defining his manpipe. If she was to take Kreesi’s rules and apply them to Compton, he would fit all but the one. The one crucial in proving to other Ruinos that they were true blood mates.

A sob rose in her chest but got lodged directly above her heart. The pain was hot and fierce, forcing Challa to turn away and look back out the side window so he wouldn’t see the agony spiking on her face. He may be able to smell her scent, but because he wasn’t Ruinos, he couldn’t detect her emotions like she could him.

Because he isn’t Ruinos.

Maybe the line won’t form because he’s human. The truck hit a rut in the road. Compton reached out to grab her by the arm to keep her from being jarred. His hand sent a blanket of warmth through her.

“Sorry. I thought I’d dodged it.”

“’S okay.”

Maybe he really is my blood mate, but because he’s human—

“Oh, shit.”

Compton’s remark made her sit up and look out the front windshield.

It looked like they were pulling up to the town’s own version of a carnival and sideshow, complete with colorful characters standing outside the sheriff’s office. Challa recognized several vehicles as belonging to carnie personnel.

“Looks like they’re waiting for us,” Compton said.

He pulled into the first empty slot and parked. Before Challa could open the door, he took her arm. “It’s going to be okay, Challa. Short and sweet, it was a case of self-defense. I’ll testify to that in court if I have to.”

They exited the truck, and Compton waited for her on the sidewalk in front of the insurance office. Together they approached the city jail, but before they could get to the door, Lawson Hall stepped out onto the sidewalk. He nearly did a double-take to see her coming toward him. “Where the fuck have you been?” His face was dark with anger, and the air was rank with its acrid scent.

Compton’s arm immediately went around her shoulders. His silent, sturdy presence kept her from bolting. They both halted next to a parking meter as a tall, slender man wearing a badge and a uniform, as well as an air of authority, exited the building, along with two of his deputies. The tag above the pocket of his starched shirt read L. Barstow.

The sheriff squinted at Compton, then at Challa. “Hello, Compton.”

Compton gave a little nod. “Larry.”

“I’m a bit busy at the mo—”

“I asked you a question,” Lawson interrupted, taking a step toward Challa. “Where the hell have you been? Where’d you go last night? We’ve been looking all over this county for you!”

Instead of answering, Challa instinctively tried to back away but Compton’s hold on her was firm. And protective.

Barstow placed a hand on the carnival owner’s shoulder. “Is this the girl?”

Lawson paused and gave a little nod. “Yeah. That’s her. Challa.”

“Challa Doon,” Compton supplied.

Challa was aware of how the sheriff and Compton traded looks before the sheriff gestured toward the front door. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

Lawson moved closer to hiss, “Just remember what I told you.”

She nodded as Compton guided her into the sheriff’s office and deliberately placed himself between her and Lawson. The move sent another wave of warmth lapping over her heart.

Sheriff Barstow led her and Compton through a room, and into an office that held a desk and two chairs, one of which was behind the desk. Compton made it clear she was to take the only other empty seat. The room quickly filled up, including two deputies, Lawson Hall, and a couple of the men Lawson always had with him when he was “conducting business”. Over by the corner she spotted Army, who gave her a little smile.

“All right. Before any of this gets out of hand, Compton, you want to tell us if you and Challa are here together?”

“That’s affirmative, Larry. I’m also here as a witness to what occurred last night,” Compton answered.

Surprised, Challa looked up at the man standing behind her. A man who seemed to have emerged from out of thin air. A man who was different from the one she thought she knew. From the one who had made such passionate love to her.

This new Compton spoke with the assurance of a man in charge, of a man accustomed to taking charge and giving unbending orders. His attitude had become rock-solid, no-nonsense. Even his voice was a different timbre—deeper and rougher. The scent of baked bread told her he felt fully confident and in control, regardless of the outcome.

Sheriff Barstow leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you know we’ve been searching for this young lady ever since she amputated Wally McGinty’s hand last night?”

“I figured you might be,” Compton admitted without sounding contrite. The baked bread smell became tinged with telltale saltiness. He was more than sure of himself. He was determined. Determined not to let anything happen to her.

Challa took a mental step back. Compton was being protective of her, as a Ruinos male would be of his mate. The comparison was unavoidable.

“You kidnapped her!” Lawson jumped in. Red-faced, he pointed a finger in Compton’s direction. “What the hell did you do to her? What did you say to her to make her go with you, you son of a bitch?”

Rather than look at Lawson, Compton kept his gaze on the sheriff. His voice remained easy and unruffled. “I was heading back to where I’d parked my truck, and I found Challa hiding in the field. She was scared out of her mind and covered in blood. I told her she needed to go to the sheriff’s office and tell them what happened. I was there, Larry. I saw what happened.”

“So why didn’t you bring her in?” Barstow asked.

Challa glanced from Compton to the sheriff, and back. It was clear these two men had a history together, as well as a shared mutual respect.

“Things were a bit too panic-stricken,” Compton replied. “I felt it would be better to wait a while until things calmed down a bit before bringing her in. Besides, Challa was a mess. She was scared to death, and I wasn’t going to push it.”

“He kidnapped her!” Lawson shouted again. “He kept her hostage somewhere last night and only brought her back here today because he knew we were looking for her!”

The sheriff turned his attention to her. “How old are you, Challa Doon?”

“Twenty.” It was the age Lawson had told her to give, considering she was unable to reconcile her Ruinos age to a human one.

“Did you go willingly with Mr. Scott last night?”

This one she could answer without hesitation. “Yes.”

Barstow nodded, apparently satisfied so far. Challa caught a whiff of affirmation coming from the man. “She’s a legal adult, Mr. Hall. You can’t make a kidnapping charge stick unless she’s underage, even if she did admit to having free will. All right. Let’s get down to brass tacks. Challa, tell me what happened last night.”

“That bastard tried to attack her!” Lawson interjected. “He jumped my guard and crawled up on the stage!”

Barstow signaled to his deputies. “Please escort Mr. Hall into the outer office so we can take Ms. Doon’s statement without further interruption.” He waited until Lawson was gone before coming back to her. “Sorry about that. Please continue.”

Challa took a deep breath to assess the temperament of everyone in the room. There wasn’t anything she could smell that would warn her of any possible problems, now that Lawson was gone. Taking it as a good sign, she addressed the sheriff face-to-face.

“I went to do my show. The crowd started taunting me and throwing things at me.”

“What did they throw at you?” Barstow questioned.

“Nothing bad. Straws and paper, mostly. I’m used to it.”

“Did Mr. McGinty throw anything at you?”

“I don’t know. Most of the time I ignore it.”

The sheriff nodded. “Go on.”

“They were yelling things at me. That’s pretty common, too. But then a couple of them tried to get closer to my cage.”

“Was Mr. McGinty one of them?”

“Yeah. Him and one other guy. But Army’s pretty good about keeping the crowd away from the stage.”

“Army?”

“Armstrong Beecher,” Challa explained. “He’s in charge of taking care of the animals. He and a couple of the others trade off being my bodyguard.”

“Is he one of the men who accompanied Mr. Hall here today?” Barstow asked.

“Yeah. He’s the blond one.”

“Okay. Continue.”

She took another deep sniff. A faint banana smell was emanating from Compton, but otherwise the room seemed odorless. “The other guy started to advance toward the cage. Army moved to stop him. That’s when…McGinty?”

“Wallace McGinty. Folks call him ‘Wally’. His father works at the co-op,” Compton whispered down to her.

“That’s when McGinty jumped the stage on the other side of the tent. I had my hands sticking out from between the bars at that point. It’s part of the act. I wasn’t expecting him to get that close.”

There was a loud click.

“Hold on.” The sheriff moved aside and fiddled with a recording device sitting on top of his desk. After a few seconds, she heard another click, and Barstow said, “Okay. Go on. You said McGinty jumped the stage.”

“Yeah. Then he managed to grab my arm.”

“Where?”

She wrapped her fingers around her right arm, just above her wrist. “Here. Like this.”

“Then what did you do?” Barstow said.

“I told him to let me go.”

“Did McGinty say anything to you?”

* * * *

In the two years she had been working her act, many had tried to get up on the stage. No one had succeeded. Until now.

The man was rank with alcoholic fumes. He was big and strong. His eyes were bloodshot, and his grip threatened to break her arm with a flick of his wrist.

“It’s fake! The costume’s a fake!”

His thumbnail literally scraped away a layer of her skin until she bled.

“What’s wrong with you, bitch? Do you really look like this? Huh? Are you really a fucking alien?” His words were slurred. There was no telling what the guy would do next, and that’s what terrified her. All she could see were teeth, spittle, and the sweat shining in beads on his upper lip.

“Let me go.” She tried to pull away but his hand was a shackle. “Let me go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She was on the verge of panic, and Army was nowhere to be seen. The tent was noisy with hoots and screams that made her head ring. And Compton. Where was Compton?

The man gave her arm a tug. “Come here, bitch. Let me get a good, close look at those teeth.”

“Let me go!” She tugged again, and this time her defiance infuriated him. He lifted his other hand and reached for her.

“Quit struggling, you bitch! I wanna see what your wings are made of!”

“Let me go! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“Oh, yeah, right. Come here! What am I gonna hafta do? Tear the fucking things offa ya?”

He meant to hurt her, and she knew he would have no qualms about doing so. He was like the Arra, who doled out pain and terror without any regard for the prisoner.

Challa snarled, no longer playing the part. Something inside her opened up and her Ruinos self stepped forward to protect herself. She hissed, showing him her sharp teeth, distracting him from seeing her other hand coming down fast and hard, slicing through his wrist with ease.

The man shrieked as blood pumped out of the stump. Challa quickly tore the detached hand from her arm and threw it back at the man, who was screaming now at the top of his lungs.

“Just you wait, bitch! Oh my God, my arm! You cut off my arm! Just you wait! I’m going to get you for this, you fucking cunt! Just you wait! Oh, Jesus, my arm!”

* * * *

“Yes. He said, ‘Just you wait, bitch.’”

“‘Just you wait, bitch.’?” the sheriff repeated. “Any idea why he would say that?”

Challa shook her head. “I don’t know why he said it. I don’t know what he meant. I just remember he wouldn’t let go of me, and he was hurting me. And he stunk so badly.”

“Stunk? Of what?”

“Alcohol. Beer.”

“The carnival doesn’t have a license to sell alcohol,” Barstow stated. “We’re a dry county.”

Compton interrupted. “You know as well as I do it’s just a six-mile drive over the county line to Mickelworth’s. I noticed a lot of kids lugging their own bottles and cans onto the grounds. With an open area like that, it would be practically impossible to prevent the stuff from coming in.”

“Not to mention what they may have imbibed beforehand,” Barstow conceded, turning back to Challa. “So far everything you’ve told me is a repeat of what others have said. I also know for a fact that McGinty’s blood alcohol level was nearly twice the legal limit when they tested him at the clinic. So far your testimony backs what I’ve learned. Okay. To recap, he jumped onto the stage and grabbed you. You asked him to let you go but he refused. Then what happened?”

“I reached for his arm with my other hand to try to get him off of me, and…I…I cut off his hand.” Challa stopped and dropped her gaze to her lap. “I didn’t intend to. Please believe me. But he was hurting me.”

Pushing himself off the desk, Barstow walked around to the other side to shut off the recorder. “Last I heard McGinty’s over at Methodist General in Shaffer. The doctors are trying to reattach his hand, but even if they do, the boy’s football days are over. Shame. Wally had a decent shot at a scholarship at NESU. Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Sounds like an open-and-shut case of self-defense.” He eyed Compton. “Is that what you were going to say, too?”

“Yeah. So you’re not going to press charges?” Compton added.

“No. I checked the tent out last night. The cage is on a platform, above the audience, and other witnesses have corroborating testimonies, saying that there was a bouncer on duty. With Challa inside the cage doing her act, she clearly wasn’t the one who instigated the attack. And Brian, he’s the other young man who was with Wally. The one who acted as the decoy. Brian confessed that he and several others, including Wally, had been drinking before they went to the carnival. No. I’m satisfied.” Barstow looked at Challa. “You’re free to go.”

“What about the man whose hand I cut off?” Challa asked as she got to her feet.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. Seems to me he has no one to blame but himself. Speaking of,” Barstow narrowed his eyes, “I need to confiscate that glove you wore. The one with the blades on it that you cut him with.”

Challa felt Compton’s eyes boring into her back as she nodded. “I-I threw it somewhere in the field last night. It had blood on it and…” She made a helpless gesture.

The sheriff nodded. “I’ll send a deputy over to look for it. Thanks for coming in. And, Compton? Thanks for bringing her.”

Challa watched as the two men shook hands before Compton placed a hand at her back and guided her out of the office. As she expected, Lawson was waiting for her.

“Well?”

“The sheriff isn’t pressing any charges,” she told him and watched as the carnival owner visibly relaxed.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Come on, Challa. We need to get back to the show. Act four’s tonight,” Lawson ordered her, casting an eye at Compton.

“I will,” she promised. “Wait for me outside, would you?”

“Wait?” Compton paused in surprise as Lawson left. “What do you mean, wait for you? Challa?”

Challa turned around to face him. “Compton, I can’t leave the carnival and my friends without telling them goodbye. You understand, right?”

He acquiesced. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that. Want me to follow?”

“No.” She gave him what she hoped would be a warm smile. “We have one more show tonight. Are you coming?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” he promised.

“I’m glad. I’ll feel much safer knowing you’ll be there. All right. Tonight then. I’ll have everything packed and ready after the show.”

She waited for his warm kiss, not caring who would see them. Not even Lawson, if he happened to walk back in. Challa took a deep breath, soaking his orange scent into her cells, into her blood. When he pulled away, she could give him a smile that was filled with love.

“Be careful, Challa. I love you,” he murmured.

“You, too, t’kor.”

She memorized his face and the light in his brown eyes, then turned and walked out of the jailhouse, knowing she would never see him again.

Chapter 21

Separation

Do you know what my world does to people like you?

Outside the sun was brightly shining, the air was cool, and the smell of fall was in the air. To most everyone, it was a Chamber of Commerce day. Unfortunately, Challa could not appreciate the picture perfect morning when her soul was shriveling in blackness.

Lawson’s phone rang. Challa had come to hate hearing its doorbell ding-dong chime.

“Yeah? You got it. Start pulling stakes. The sheriff cleared her of any wrongdoing, so we don’t have to worry about the authorities putting out any roadblocks or anything looking for her. Okay. Fine. We’re on our way back now. Be there in a jiffy.” He hung up and shoved the cell back into his shirt pocket.

She kept waiting for his tirade, for the threats and accusations. But to be honest, Challa didn’t care anymore. Nothing he would ever say to her would hurt as bad as she did now. Nothing he could ever do to “teach her a lesson” would rip her apart inside the way she was being torn this minute.

Compton.

Even the thought of his name squeezed all the hope from her. Fortunately, Lawson mistook the reason for her tears.

“You damn well better be crying, young lady. After what you put me through. You’re damn lucky that sheriff didn’t throw you in jail. And then where would you be, huh? How long would you have been able to stay in there before you were forced to turn back into what you really are, huh? Answer me!”

“Not all night,” she managed to murmur. For the umpteenth time she glanced down at the underside of her arm. At the smooth, unblemished expanse of white skin running from her elbow to her wrist.

* * * *

“But what if a blood line doesn’t form, Kreesi?” Amfinn asked.

“Then he is not your blood mate,” the oldling firmly stated.

“But what if you orgasm, and he smells you, and all the other signs are there?” insisted Breftu.

Challa glanced over at the oldest of them. Breftu was always challenging authority. Always looking for a way around the inevitable.

Kreesi sighed. “If there is no blood line, no other Ruinos will accept the mating. Plain and simple. No exceptions. No excuses. Now, let me talk to you about taking caring for your wings.”

* * * *

No exceptions. No excuses. If there is no blood line, no other Ruinos will accept the mating.

That is why I must leave, Compton. Because I was wrong. It’s not because you’re human that the line won’t form.

She had been telling herself over and over, ever since she noticed the lack of blood line in her arm that his being human was the reason it didn’t form. She had tried to convince herself that Compton really was her blood mate. All this time she had been making excuses. Making exceptions. Until another shock wave thundered through her in the middle of giving her testimony.

Maybe it’s because you’re human that I felt the other things. Maybe I had an orgasm because you’re human. Maybe I smelled you because you’re human. Maybe I wanted to believe all the other things so badly I was willing to overlook the one proof positive. But the blood line…my one true sign…was telling me the truth all along. It was exactly as Kreesi said. I just didn’t want to believe it.

Then, by all the stars in heaven, why did she feel like her insides were being rendered to pieces?

“Hey, Challa. That guy didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

That’s the problem. Everything he did, I loved. “No. He was nice to me. He let me have a place to sleep.” She fingered the borrowed dress. “He gave me this to wear.”

“Where’s your outfit?”

She shrugged. “It was torn pretty badly.”

Lawson grunted. “Fucking kid. Fucking drunks. Well, you have a spare, so that shouldn’t be a problem. One more thing…” His voice trailed off, the question unspoken but clear. Challa shook her head.

“No, Lawson. He didn’t see me change. He thinks it’s a costume…like everyone else.”

She heard his sigh of relief. “At least that’s one big worry off my chest,” the man said, then added what she had been waiting for him to say. Knowing he always ended his speeches with the inevitable.

“You have no idea what my world would do to you if they ever found out the truth.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d lied to Lawson. It wouldn’t be the last, either.

Pressing her fist to her lips, Challa turned her head to gaze out the passenger window. They were on the narrow road leading to the fairgrounds. In the distance she could see the main tent had already been struck, as well as most of the rides. Everyone was busy packing and loading, getting prepared to take off as soon as Lawson gave the order.

They wouldn’t be staying for a third night. The carnival wouldn’t be here when Compton came to see her. And neither would she be waiting for him, packed and ready as she’d promised.

“Where are we going next?” she managed to ask as he slowed to pull into the parking area.

“What do you care?”

At first his comment stung. Then she realized he was right. Why should she care? It didn’t matter which way they went. She belonged to Lawson Hall and his world famous sideshow. It was a lot like being a prisoner of the Arra, except he didn’t torture her like they did. At least not in the physical sense. Plus, he did allow her some freedom to go shopping in the small towns where they set up camp.

The carnival gave her food and a place to sleep. More than that, it protected her secret from the people who would try to do her harm if they should ever discover what she really was. Among the carnival folk, she could freely walk about as Ruinos, and no one would question her, or even look twice at her. Carnies were used to their own kind practicing in makeup or costume once they were settled in.

He pulled to a stop in front of his bus and got out, checking to see if Challa was following him. Until last night, she had always been trustworthy. Until last night. Last night had been a first for all of them.

She watched as Allen filled him in on their progress. From the looks of it, she guessed they would be able to hit the road before noon. That would give them a good six hours’ head start before people started coming out to the carnival and discovering the field was barren. No harm, no foul, as Army often said. Nobody paid for a ticket until they got here, and all transactions at the local grocery stores were paid for up front. Which meant the carnival never owed anyone any money when it came time to pull up stakes and head on to the next town.

“Hey! Challa!”

Hearing Lawson’s call, she jerked around.

“Go check to see if Marlene needs any help.”

Nodding, she took off toward the main cluster of vehicles to see if anyone was in need of an extra hand.

Chapter 22

Gone

Compton was already in his truck, heading for town when his cell rang. He flipped it open without checking first to see who was calling.

“Your nickle. Start talking.”

“Yo, Comp.”

“Hey, Maxwell. What’s cooking?”

“I’m pissed. What else is new?”

Compton chuckled. “Okay. I give. What pissed you off today?”

“Damn carnival split town.”

Compton slammed on the brakes, nearly skidding the truck into the ditch. His heart was thudding so loudly, he almost couldn’t hear Max’s ranting.

“Whoa! Stop! Say that again?”

“I said the carnival is gone! Can you believe it? They said they’d be here for three nights. Well, this is night number three, right? But there’s no sign of them!”

“Where are you?” He eased back onto the road and did a U-turn. County Road 80 was about two miles away. From there he would take the back road to get to where the carnival was located.

Was. As in used to be.

He heard an exasperated sigh. “Where do you think I am, ‘dumm-Comp’? I’m sitting here, looking over the field where the damn thing used to be!”

Fortunately for Max, he was the only person in the world allowed to use any of Compton’s old derogatory nicknames to his face and live.

Compton didn’t need to double-check Max’s statement about the carnival being around for three nights. Every poster he’d seen had said the same thing. Even Challa had promised she’d see him tonight, after which she’d have all her things packed so that he could take her home with him. A home they would share for the next forty or so years.

Damn it, Challa! What happened?

“Are you sure you’re on the right road?” As soon as the words were out of Compton’s mouth, he knew he was stalling.

“Compton!”

“Okay, okay. Look, I’m on my way out there.”

“You are? Why?” Max’s questioning clearly revealed his puzzlement. Mostly because the guy didn’t know the importance of his discovery.

“I’ll tell you when I get there.” Compton closed the lid on his phone without waiting for a reply and tossed the cell onto the passenger seat so he could concentrate on pushing the speed limit. As soon as he pulled onto the dirt road, he felt his stomach sink to his feet. Hearing the news had been one thing. Seeing the empty field was like an illegal blow below the belt.

Max’s mustard yellow truck was parked on the side of the road. Max stood beside it, waving him down. Compton pulled up behind him and killed the engine. He was out of the truck before Max got to the door.

“Ain’t it a bitch?” Max groused. “I wonder how long they’ve been gone?”

“At least since nine this morning,” Compton answered, staring out over the trampled earth. The place was clean. There wasn’t a piece of paper or a speck of glitter left to show there had even been a carnival on the premises. Nothing but footprints and a few holes in the ground where the tent poles had been.

Challa!

“Why did they bug out?” Max continued to question. “Think it had to do with what happened last night?”

“Five will get you ten, that’s why.” Compton pressed his lips together, unable to believe it even as he was looking at it.

Challa, why did you go?

“Well, shit. I was hoping to see what they were going to do tonight with the alien girl. I had a Hamilton riding that they weren’t going to let her go onstage. How about you?”

“Huh?”

“You look as pissed as I feel. Were you planning on coming tonight? Is that the deal?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well.” Max turned to head back to his pickup. “You win some, you lose some. Tough titty. Hey, I’m thinking about shooting some pockets over at Doug’s. Why don’t you join me? First rack’s on me.”

Compton waved him away. “No, thanks. I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Suit yourself. See ya!” Compton’s best friend climbed into his truck, turned around, and sped off toward town.

Compton spent a few more minutes looking out over the deserted acreage then climbed back into his truck. Turning the vehicle around, he dodged a couple of cars filled with teenagers, noting how they slowed down upon seeing the empty lots. Gonna be a lot of unhappy people tonight, myself included. It was only a little past six. Things didn’t start hopping until around eight, with the sideshow opening at eight thirty.

But he wasn’t about to sit on his butt and bemoan the fact that Challa was gone. Compton was certain of two things—Challa loved him, and there was no way she would have voluntarily left unless something…or someone…had convinced her to.

And he would be willing bet a Hamilton that that “someone” was Lawson Hall.

Chapter 23

The sheriff was on the phone when Compton ushered himself into the man’s office. Barstow gave him a little wave and motioned toward the empty chair. Compton sat and waited for the call to end.

“Yeah. Uh-huh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that, too, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve already checked with the merchants, and they all tell me the carnival was free and clear. Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I cleared the woman of all blame. She was inside the cage when the boy jumped her. She reacted in self-defense, plain and simple. Uh-huh. All right. All right. Thanks for calling. Bye.”

He dropped the receiver onto the cradle then moaned as he rubbed his face with both hands. “Let me guess. You’re back because the carnival shipped out, right?”

“Any idea where they went?”

“Nope, and I don’t care to find out. Other than that little tiff last night, they haven’t broken any laws, and they don’t owe nobody nothing.” Barstow narrowed his eyes at Compton. “Care to tell me why you want to know?”

“It’s personal, Larry.”

“Don’t tell me the girl walked off with something of yours.”

“No. I told you. It’s personal,” Compton repeated.

The sheriff leaned back in his padded chair, fingers drumming on the armrests. “Comp, how long have we known each other?”

“Since third grade.”

“Yeah. And we’ve been though a lot together, including Barry Brewster and his gang of little shits. And now you’re going to sit there and not tell me what’s going on?” Getting suddenly to his feet, Barstow shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “This morning I got vibes from you that said you had a big stake in the young lady’s future. I’m getting those same vibes now, old friend. So give it up. What aren’t you telling me? Are you and that girl…”

“Yeah, Larry. We hit it off. In fact, we did more than hit it off.”

A huge grin split the sheriff’s face. “Hot damn! The Comp’s fallen head over heels! Congratulations!” In the next instant, the smile disappeared. “But the fair skipped town. Maybe I should be offering my condolences.”

Compton frowned. “Not so quick, Larry. Challa swore to me she was staying with me after her last act tonight.”

And then it hit him. It was like finding the right key to fit the keyhole.

“Fourth act?”

“What are you mumbling about?” Barstow asked.

“Hall said something about Challa performing her fourth act tonight.”

The sheriff shrugged. “So?”

“Last night was their second night here in town. Challa told me she was doing her second act when that jerk jumped the stage. That meant tonight would have been her third act, not the fourth one.”

“Maybe you misunderstood.”

“Or maybe, when Hall told her she had to get ready for her fourth act, he was secretly telling her they were preparing to leave.” Compton rubbed his chin. “They didn’t pass through town on their way out, did they?”

“No, and we both know why. Why sneak away then go down through the middle of town where you’d be advertising it?” Walking around to the front of his desk, Barstow took his usual stance by leaning against it. “Comp, don’t take this wrong, but what if the girl was just taking you for a ride?”

Compton started to shake his head, but the sheriff persisted.

“No, listen to me. Go home and check your house. Make sure she didn’t lift something of value while she was there. You know how carny folk are.”

“What would I have of value for her to steal?” Compton almost growled. “For God’s sake, the woman had no compunction about being with me. I showed her what was left of my leg. What the explosion did to me. And she didn’t care! She honestly didn’t care! She didn’t flinch, she didn’t make a face. Larry, we connected!”

Barstow grinned. “I’m thrilled for you, man! I really am. But you have to ask yourself, if you honestly did connect, and I’m not saying you didn’t, but if you did, why did she leave anyway?”

“I’m thinking Lawson Hall had something to do with it,” Compton admitted. There was no way he would tell Barstow everything. Hell, Maxwell was as close as a brother to him, and there was no way Compton would open up to him, either.

“Sooo, what are you planning to do? Go after her? Let’s say you find her. What then?”

He nodded. “When she tells me to my face it was all an act, that her feelings weren’t the real thing, then I’ll back off and come home.” Compton gave the man a hard stare. “But she wasn’t faking last night. Neither was I.”

“She must be one special little lady,” Barstow said.

“Larry, you have no idea.”

“Any way I can help?”

“I was hoping you’d offer.” For the first time in a long time, Compton smiled. “I need to find out which way they went.”

“That shouldn’t be that much of a problem. I can send out bulletins to every law enforcement agency in a two-hundred-mile range. They may be using the back roads, but sooner or later someone’s bound to spot them. That caravan is pretty hard to miss. As soon as someone sends word, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Appreciate it, Larry.” Getting to his feet, Compton shook hands with the man.

“Where you off to now?”

“Home,” Compton answered, heading out of the office. But his next stop would actually be the gas station to fill up. And after that, the bank to put a little cash in his wallet.

He was hoping it wouldn’t take long before Barstow found out where the carnival had gone, or at least which way it was heading. Because once he got word, Compton would have his duffel bag packed and ready to leave.

The hard part wouldn’t be tracking the carnival. The hard part would be the waiting.

Chapter 24

Ill

Challa normally rode with the Lebrands when the show was en route. Cora worked concessions, and Gilles was the head mechanic for the rides. They were an older couple who had never had children of their own, so the carnival’s nomadic way of life suited them perfectly. They had a nice-sized van, and Challa had adopted one of the rear seats as her own. There, she could huddle down and read or sleep. Or, in this case, be alone with her thoughts. Thoughts of Compton. When she wept, no one would see or hear her way back in the vehicle. Not when the Lebrands liked to rock with the Beatles blaring through the speakers.

Every half-hour or so Challa would look down at her arm and curse it. What was the point of loving someone when she couldn’t prove it? Why would fate send her to Compton, but not allow her to have him?

She had been a youngling on that slave ship. She had no firsthand experience knowing what her homeworld was like. Her parents had been captured and brought aboard the Arran ship. There, they had been forced to copulate, only to discover they were true blood mates. After repeated torture for refusing to have children, they had complied. Challa heard she was their third child. The other two had been sold to other worlds. Yet for some reason she never understood, the Arra had kept her, although they isolated her away from her parents.

It wasn’t until Simolif came to gather her and the other younglings being held in a separate part of the ship, and took them to the escape craft, that she found out about her parents’ deaths. About how they had refused to bear any more children, and how Heela, her mother, had died from the resulting punishment. Doon passed away in his sleep a few days later. Challa had always wondered if it was because of his grief over losing his mate, or from the adjac wounds inflicted on him when he had refused to obey the Arra.

She ran her fingers over her inner arm, down the unmarked flesh. A warm tear drop fell onto her knuckles. The further the distance stretched between her and Compton, the darker the blackness inside her grew. Everything inside her told her Compton was her mate. Every nerve fiber sang his name. Every muscle, every cell waited for his piquant scent to descend over her again. She was like a raw gem, needing him to delicately carve her into a perfect, precious stone with his love.

To make her whole. Complete. Fulfilled.

The chasm continued to widen as the miles slid under the van’s tires. Her heart beat sluggishly, and her head pounded. Sleeping did little to assuage the pain, and unfortunately she couldn’t take any of the medications humans did, as the chemicals were like poison to her system.

The caravan stopped at a filling station and barbeque place on the outskirts of some town. The smell of roasting meat made her sick to her stomach. Still, she climbed out of the van to get something to eat. Maybe if she ate something, it would help. Some potato salad would be nice.

“Hey, girl, you’re looking a mite poorly.” Marlene trundled over to her and gave her shoulder a motherly pat. “That time of the month?”

Fortunately, Challa had quickly learned that the phrase “that time of the month” was always a great excuse whenever something she ate or came across left her feeling nauseous. She nodded slightly as the road bobbled before her eyes. “Yeah. My stomach’s upset, too.”

“Have you thrown up any?”

“No. Not yet.” She couldn’t throw up, even if she wanted to. Challa suspected it had something to do with being Ruinos.

The kindly woman grabbed her by the elbow and guided her over to the back bumper, urging Challa to sit down. “Why don’t you just stay here and get some fresh air? I’ll have Wiley bring you something to eat.”

For some reason, sitting down stopped the road from swaying. Too bad her stomach wouldn’t. Challa managed a wane smile. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

“What are you hungry for? Anything in particular? How about some chicken? Oh, wait. I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t eat meat. Well, how about some baked beans and cabbage slaw, then?”

“I’d…I’d like some potato salad if they have it, please.”

Marlene grinned. The air around her was spiced with her caring apple scent. “Okay! Potato salad it is! Now, you stay here, and I’ll have Wiley bring you out some.”

Challa thanked her then watched as the rotund woman slowly made her way across the short parking lot toward the restaurant where most of the carnies had already gone inside. The rest of the crew was taking turns at the gas pumps filling up the vehicles.

“You wanted to see me?”

It was Duffy’s voice coming from the other side of the van. Challa remained where she sat, too nauseated to get up and see who he was talking to.

“Yeah. I need you to go on ahead and post some flyers.”

It was Lawson. She wasn’t surprised.

There was a rustling of papers. “Head over to the coast and work your way south. Take in the next three towns.” More paper noises. “Start here. Carter Straits. This one looks good, too. And here. They’re the right size. Need to take the map with you?”

“Yeah,” Duffy replied as paper crinkled again.

“We should make Carter Straits tomorrow.”

“Gonna do some midweek shows?”

“Have to. Don’t have a choice.”

“Too bad we couldn’t finish up at Cooper. We had some good crowds there.”

“Yeah, but it couldn’t be helped,” Lawson practically growled. “Better get a move on. Have you eaten?”

“Leeda’s waiting on our order.”

“Okay. As soon as you’ve eaten, take the Dodge. Drive safe.”

Things grew quiet. Challa leaned back against the vehicle and opened herself up. The fresh air and spaciousness of this world still felt strange at times, even though the escape ship had landed more than seven years ago. Sometimes the cramped little cubbyholes she took refuge in felt more real to her than her life did now. Although she knew that she would have eventually died on the Arran ship, Challa wondered how much different her life was today, compared to yesterday. Could she live with this pain inside her? How was it such pain didn’t lessen, but grew with every passing hour? With every passing mile?

She covered her mouth to muffle her sob.

How did a Ruinos cope without her blood mate, when everything inside said she had found him? But when, in reality, she hadn’t?

Chapter 25

North

Compton snatched up the phone as soon as it began ringing. “Compton.”

“It’s Barstow. Good news, bad news.”

“I’m listening.”

“Bad news is we don’t have any idea yet where they went, but the good news is we got a handle on where they came from.”

“I’ll take it,” Compton said, getting to his feet. He hurried into the kitchen and over to the table where he already had a map opened. Snatching up the marker, he paused to listen.

“Before they came to Cooper, they were in Fallon Falls. Before Fallon Falls, Bryer.”

Compton marked the map. “They’re taking a northerly route.”

“Looks that way,” the sheriff acknowledged. “It’s obvious they’re avoiding the big cities and sticking with the smaller towns.”

“Of course they would. Less competition for the entertainment dollar in the smaller towns. Hmm. Think they might be using the back roads?”

“They’re pulling at least a dozen trailers, maybe two dozen. They can’t go the speed limit with that kind of load. Don’t they also have animals? Yeah, I agree. It would be safer to stick to the county roads, in my opinion.”

“All right. If they stick with their original route, they could be heading for Bixley or Van Batten.”

“Or New Meyersville. There’s a state home for boys there. A carnival and sideshow would draw good crowds, don’t you think?”

Compton heard himself chuckle. Things were looking up. “Okay, I’ll go to New Meyersville first. If there’s no sign of them there, I’ll cut across to Bixley. Thanks, Larry.”

“Just doing what you voted me in to do. If I hear anything else, I’ll call you. Good luck, Comp. Hope you find her, and everything works out.”

“So do I.”

He grabbed the map and left the house. Tossing the map through the truck’s open window, Compton climbed into the cab as he glanced at his watch. It was a quarter after four. New Meyersville was eighty miles away. If he cut across to the interstate, he could be there by six.

He had done a lot of thinking during the time he’d been waiting to hear from the law authorities. The more he mulled about it, the more he grew certain that Lawson Hall was the main reason why Challa hadn’t stayed behind. What he couldn’t figure out was what kind of hold the man had on her.

He was certain of one thing, though. Hall knew about Challa being a real alien. Whether or not anyone else associated with the carnival knew the truth, Compton couldn’t guess, but it wasn’t relevant, in his opinion. The important thing was that he would have to deal with Hall if he was to convince Challa to come back with him.

Confrontation wasn’t a stranger to Compton. Not after two tours of duty in war-torn Uzbekistan. If Hall wanted a fight, Compton had no problem with that. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but Compton was prepared, just in case.

The world seemed brighter and fresher as he pulled onto the road. With any luck, he would see Challa again before the week was out. If he was blessed, she would be returning home with him.

Smiling, Compton turned left at the next county road and began to head north.

Chapter 26

Flyer

The woman stood on the sidewalk, facing the front of the little diner and coffee shop. For several minutes she stared at the flyer now taped to the inside window. Someone had come into the shop and asked Mitzi if they could leave the advertisement in the window. Other than that, that was all she knew about it.

Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow.

There were a handful of photos superimposed on each other, each one revealing an act from the traveling road show. But it was the picture near the bottom and its caption that gripped her.

See Challa, the Alien Girl! A real alien from outer space!

If she didn’t know any better, Hannah would swear it was a picture of Tiron.

Flipping open her cell, she punched the speed dial number to the lumber mill. The receptionist answered.

“Tumbril Harbor Mill. How can I help you?”

“Trudy? Hi! It’s Hannah.”

“Hannah! Hi, hon! How’s it going?”

“Fine, thank you. I’m calling to see if you can get a message to Jeb for me. It’s not an emergency.”

“Sure. I’ll put a note in his box so he’ll see it when he comes in. He usually checks for messages around lunch.”

It was a little after eleven, and already the diner was beginning to fill up with the local lunch crowd. Before too long she would be too busy to take a call.

“That’s great,” she told the receptionist. “Tell him I called, would you? Tell him Roni’s sister might be coming to town.”

“Sure thing, Hannah,” Mitzi promised. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. I’m at the restaurant. If he wants to, he can call me after the lunch rush.”

“Not a problem, sweetie. You have a good day now. Don’t work too hard.”

Hannah thanked her and hung up. The men at the mill weren’t allowed to have their cell phones on their person when they were working. Phones were too much of a distraction, and one unexpected ring could cause a serious accident when they were around the saws. Jeb had told her the guys had small lockers to keep their personal belongings in. To be on the safe side, she phoned his cell and left a voice message.

She knew if she really wanted to, she could send an emotional call to him. But she didn’t want to give him the impression this was an emergency. Hannah knew he could already sense her excitement.

Her third call was answered by the person she was hoping to reach.

“Northeastern University Science Center. This is Dr. Drumman.”

“Hey, Sarah! It’s Hannah!”

She could hear the woman’s smile over their connection. “Hannah! Hey, what a surprise! What’s up, sister-in-law? You normally don’t call me in the middle of the day.”

“I think I’ve discovered another Ruinos.”

Sarah’s voice immediately dropped. “Where?” the woman almost whispered. “In Tumbril Harbor?”

“Yeah,” Hannah nodded, even though she knew Sarah wouldn’t be able to see her. “Well, almost. There’s a carnival and sideshow heading this way. Someone put a flyer advertising it in the diner’s window. It says ‘Lawson Hall’s World Famous Carnival and Sideshow’, and one of the acts it’s promoting is called ‘Challa, the Alien Girl’. It says ‘see a real alien from outer space’.”

“What makes you think Challa is a Ruinos?”

“I vaguely remember Jeb talking about a Challa being onboard the spaceship when they escaped from the Arra. I left a message at the mill and on his phone for him to call. I’m waiting to hear back from him.”

“Want me to ask Simon at lunch if he remembers a Challa?”

“Would you? But I haven’t told you the best part. They have a picture of this Challa on the poster. Sarah? It looks like a photo of Tiron.”

Sarah heard the woman gasp in shock. “Oh, geez! Okay. Let me talk to Simon and see what he wants to do. I’m guessing we may be heading your way this afternoon. Have you spoken to Thom or Roni yet?”

“Not yet.” Hannah smiled and waved at two customers who greeted her as they entered the coffee shop. “Sheriff Klotsky and Thom usually come by around one thirty for lunch. I’ll catch him then. If I don’t see him, I’ll leave word at the station.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sarah acknowledged. “I’ll ring you back shortly.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, then. ’Bye.”

Closing her phone, Hannah tucked it into her apron pocket and went back inside the diner. The troops had been notified, and before nightfall they would have a plan readied before the carnival arrived in town.

Another female Ruinos. Hannah smiled to herself. With luck they would be able to reach her before the Arra did. As long as she hasn’t found her life mate yet. Please, let’s hope she hasn’t found her blood mate.

Because if she had, it may already be too late to save her.

Chapter 27

Weaker

The carnival reached Carter Straits by midafternoon the next day. There was an arena on the outskirts of town with a large enough parking lot. Lawson had them wait there while he went back into town to get whatever permits they’d need. It was late when he returned. There wouldn’t be enough time to erect the rides, but the sideshow could put on a performance. Lawson ordered the main tent erected first.

Challa remained in the Lebrands’ van and watched the frenetic activity. The potato salad still churned inside her stomach, sending rancid acid percolating at the base of her throat.

She probably had a fever. Then again, maybe Ruinos didn’t get fevers. Humans did. Their faces turned pink, and sweat rolled down their skin, and they radiated heat like a living stove. But whenever they got a fever, that was proof positive that the person was sick.

Oh, and if they threw up, that was proof positive, too.

Challa knew she was going to throw up, but the fever part was iffy.

The side door slid open. Allen stuck his head inside. “There you are! Lawson said to get your costume on. The sideshow is going on tonight.”

“Tell Lawson I don’t feel so good,” she replied. Her mouth felt like it was slowly melting off her face. The potato salad roiled with oily mayonnaise. Carefully, Challa got out of her seat and made it over to the doorway as lunch crawled up her throat. Somehow she made it outside, stumbled over to the small drainage ditch nearby, fell onto her hands and knees, and finally gave in to her body’s demands.

For the first time in her life, Challa vomited.

The air was foul. Her body was rebelling, and there was nothing she could do except wait it out and pray it would all be over soon.

She never heard the sound of boots tramping over the gravel roadway, heading in her direction, until they were nearly upon her.

“What’s going on, Challa? Allen says you’re throwing up.”

She kept her face down, unable to lift her head to look up at him.

“I don’…feel good.”

Lawson knelt beside her and placed the palm of his hand on her forehead. “You’re sweaty. What did you throw up?”

“’Tato salad.”

“Damn food poisoning’s what you got. That place had no business putting mayonnaise in their potato salad. I’m betting you got food poisoning. Shit! Come on, Challa.” He took her by the arm and helped her to her feet. The vomiting had left her weaker than before. She had no energy left to stand on her own, much less walk.

“I’m sick, Lawson.”

“I can see that. Allen, carry her over to my bus, would you?”

The big carnival manager hoisted her into his arms and took her across the parking lot to Lawson’s converted bus. Inside, he laid her on the small, padded seat lining one wall. Lawson was right behind him, as well as Cora Lebrand.

“I gotta see to tonight’s lineup. Shit. We can’t use Challa when she’s feeling like this. Can you watch her until I get back, Cora?”

“Sure thing, Lawson. Not a problem.”

Challa was vaguely aware of Cora covering her with a quilt of some sort and sticking a thermometer in her mouth. When it beeped, Cora pulled it out and checked the readout, frowning. “That can’t be right. Let’s try this again.” The thermometer went back into Challa’s mouth for another countdown. The second time, Cora sighed over the numbers, mumbled something about it being broken, and got up from where she sat on the bench next to Challa.

“I’m afraid to give you aspirin. It might upset your stomach even more. Do you feel achy?”

“Yeah.” In fact, no matter how she moved, Challa felt like one gigantic bruise.

“Well, now that you’ve gotten that crap out of your system, you should start feeling better soon. Why don’t you go ahead and take a nap? I’m going outside to help set up. I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

The last thing Challa heard was the door opening and closing. At some point she fell asleep. When she awoke, she felt worse than ever. The bus was dark, but with her Ruinos senses she could tell she was alone. In the distance she could make out the rinky-tink music Lawson pumped through the P.A. system. And voices. She could make out voices, but not what they were saying.

She had no idea how long she had been out, but at least it was nighttime now. Her mouth felt bloated, and she was thirsty. She tried to roll onto her side, but it hurt too damn much. Slowly, Challa shifted into her true self, hoping she might have a little more energy by being Ruinos. The effort proved futile.

Closing her eyes didn’t help any, either. Compton’s face was always there, smiling at her, leaning closer to kiss her or whisper something loving against her skin. His brown eyes were warm, caring, sending her signals that tingled all the way down to her toes. And the air around him shimmered with the warm vanilla scent of his hunger for her.

At the thought of him, her heart imploded a little bit more, becoming squashed and flat like an empty can. She coughed, and the pain made her moan.

Compton, what are you doing now? Have you discovered we’ve left? Do you even care that I’m gone? Or that I won’t be coming back?

Do you even care enough to try to find out where I am?

She couldn’t dwell on the questions because she already knew the answers. And they were enough to make her cry herself back to sleep.

Chapter 28

Notice

The phone rang in the middle of supper. DeGrassi picked it up from where it was sitting next to his plate and checked the caller I.D. “It’s the office,” he told the others as he flipped open the receiver. “DeGrassi.”

The next instant, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers twice. The others stopped eating and listened in.

“Where now? Yeah, yeah, I know where it is. Okay, thanks a bunch, George. No, no. We got it covered. Thanks for the offer, though. See you tomorrow. G’night.” Grinning, he closed the cell. “The sheriff over at Barkette County wired in that a traveling carnival just applied for a three-day permit over at Carter Straits. The sheriff there is going over to check them out.”

“Is it the Lawson Hall carnival?” Tiron questioned.

“Yeah,” he told his wife.

Hannah glanced over at her husband. “How far is Carter Straits from here?”

“A little more than an hour’s drive.” Jebaral checked his watch. “Should we take two vehicles?”

DeGrassi nodded. “It would be the smart thing to do, in case we run into any trouble. When did Simon say they’d be here?”

“Any time now,” Hannah replied. “Look. Why don’t I stay at the house and wait for them? You go on ahead and get Challa.”

“It may be close to midnight before we get back,” Jebaral noted.

Hannah smiled and leaned over the table for his kiss. “If you tell me not to wait up, I swear I’m gonna smack you one.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Smack me on the lips instead, and I’ll see you later tonight.” Hannah accepted her husband’s quick kiss as the others rose from the table.

“We’re taking my truck and Roni’s SUV,” DeGrassi announced as they exited the house, pausing on the front porch.

“You guys seem pretty sure Challa’s going to want to come back here with you,” Hannah said, following them outside where Jebaral handed her the keys to his truck. She leaned against the porch railing to watch them getting into the vehicles.

“We don’t know what her circumstances are,” Tiron said. “At least we can let her know about us being here. But the important thing is to tell her about the chip in her arm, and help her get it removed. After that, she’s free to do what she wants with the rest of her life.” The Ruinos woman slammed the door and gave Hannah a little wave goodbye as DeGrassi pulled the SUV out of the driveway. Jebaral was right behind them, driving DeGrassi’s truck. He blew his wife a kiss, which Hannah returned, and she watched them until they disappeared in the distance. Once they were gone, she turned to go back into the DeGrassi residence to clean up the dinner dishes before going home.

Chapter 29

Death

“She’s getting sicker, Lawson. I’m starting to get worried. Maybe we need to get a doctor to look at her.”

“We don’t have the money to pay a doctor. Besides, it’s just a little food poisoning,” Lawson argued. “She’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

“I hope so. Poor thing. Look at her. What a trooper. She even managed to get her makeup on.”

Challa floated between awake and asleep. Lawson and Cora stood somewhere nearby and talked about her unaware she could hear and understand them.

“How’s the crowd tonight?” Cora inquired of the carnival owner.

“Not bad. It should be better tomorrow night, especially if Challa can manage her act.”

A hand touched her forehead. Challa kept her eyes closed, too dizzy and listless to make a comment, much less let them know she was awake.

“How’s her temperature?”

“I took it about an hour ago. It was eighty-nine point nine. I think the thermometer is broken.”

“Has she thrown up again?” Lawson asked. Even without her sniffing, the odor of his worry filled her nostrils. The discovery was not surprising. It was sadder knowing Lawson wasn’t so much concerned about her health as he was concerned about her ability to work. He had told her long ago that she was the carnival’s salvation. That the only reason the show had survived this long and prospered was because of her, Challa the Alien Girl. If she didn’t perform, the profits were negligible. The sooner she could be up and on her feet and in her cage, the better it would be for the bottom line.

Which was why Lawson would never let her go. It didn’t matter to him if she found her blood mate or not. She had been bought and paid for as surely as if the Arra had handled the transaction themselves.

“Not that I know of,” Cora answered.

The hand disappeared.

“If she wakes up, come get me,” Lawson ordered. Shortly thereafter, the bus door squeaked open then slammed shut. Challa heard the rattling of cookware in the tiny kitchen area before she sank back into unconsciousness.

* * * *

They spotted the electric rainbow of multicolored lights as they crested the hill. Tiron phoned Jebaral, who had stayed behind them the entire way. “See it?” she asked as soon as he answered.

“Yeah.”

Not needing to say anything else, she hung up.

DeGrassi glanced over at her. They had spoken little during the long drive to Carter Straits. They had spent the time in their own thoughts. For Tiron, that took her back to some memories she didn’t mind having.

“You said Challa was a child on the ship?” DeGrassi asked.

“Yes. Her mother was a friend of mine. Heela was with me when the Arra kidnapped us. Like me, the Arra forced her to mate with every Ruinos male, hoping to create a bonding. She was blessed when she and Doon bonded.”

Tiron continued to stare out the windshield, although her mind was years in the past. “After they bonded, I never saw her again. The Arra took her and Doon to another part of the ship. I heard that the two of them succumbed to their torture and bore children for the Arra to sell or eat. I was…I lost track of them until Simolif brought all that was left of the surviving children onboard the escape craft, and I smelled Heela in Challa.”

“You can tell which children belong to which parents?”

She nodded. “If you know the parents, you can tell which is their child, yes. Challa reached her womanhood right before we landed here, so I wasn’t worried when I left the escape ship.”

“Why?” DeGrassi asked, grinning. “What happens to Ruinos women when they reach adulthood, besides the obvious?” His eyes dropped to Tiron’s breasts, and she shivered slightly with delight. Lifting her human hand, she gave him an equally wide grin and morphed her fingers into Ruinos talons. Her mate nodded, understanding, and turned his attention back to the road.

As they drew closer, DeGrassi began to look for a place to park that would enable them to make a quick getaway if the situation called for it.

“They don’t have their rides up,” Tiron commented to her husband.

“If they just got here today, they probably didn’t have enough time to get everything set up before nightfall. There’s a big tent,” he pointed out.

He stopped parallel to a six-wheeler then backed up at a perpendicular angle into the parking space behind it, with the nose of the SUV pointing at the road. Jebaral followed suit. Once they got out of their vehicles, they gathered at the side of the road.

Tiron took a deep breath of the sultry air. Beside her, Jebaral did the same.

“Anything?” DeGrassi asked, watching them both intently.

Tiron shook her head. “No, but I sense…something.” She looked over at Jebaral, who also nodded.

“She has to be here, but something doesn’t feel right,” Jebaral commented. “Come on.”

As they neared the carnival grounds, they could see where a few of the less elaborate rides had been erected and already had riders. Jebaral tapped DeGrassi on the shoulder and pointed toward the large banners hanging near the entrance to the main tent. One in particular bore a name and an image the two Ruinos were already familiar with.

“Dearest stars in the heaven,” Tiron murmured. She didn’t try to hide the disgust in her voice.

“Maybe she has no choice,” DeGrassi replied, giving her a meaningful look. “You know…trading one form of slavery for another?”

Tiron flinched under his gaze. Setting her shoulders, she forged on ahead with the two men close behind her.

They walked the perimeter of the carnival, trying to appear casual. As they neared the main tent, they could hear the barker announcing that the sideshow would begin at eight thirty. Tiron stopped to assess. “I know she’s here. I can feel it. But I also feel like something’s…wrong.”

Jebaral turned to look back at the way they’d come. “I get the same feelings, Tiron. But I…” He paused to wince. Tiron immediately jumped on his reaction.

“But what? Do you recognize something?”

He turned around to look at her. “I do. It’s the feeling of death.”

“Death?” DeGrassi placed a hand at Tiron’s back. It was automatic. A gesture of love and protectiveness meant to reassure her.

“Is she injured? Why don’t I recognize it?” Tiron asked feeling a bit irritated with herself.

“Because of the way the Arra treated you, your focus was on your own survival,” Jebaral gently told her. “I’ve sensed this kind of death before, but it’s been years. And not since we landed here.” He took another deep sniff, as if to steady himself. “If this is what I think it is, we need to hurry and find her, before she is lost to us.”

Tiron scanned the carnival midway, oblivious to the lights and sounds as she tried to hone in on the signals trickling into her. Almost simultaneously, she and Jebaral turned to face in the direction away from the grounds, toward the opposite end of the parking lot.

“There. She’s over there,” Tiron stated, taking off with the other two flanking her.

Chapter 30

Family

The other end of the parking lot looked like a used car lot for vans, RVs, old buses and trailers. Most of the vehicles were dark, but a few had interior lights on, visible behind curtained windows, meaning people were inside. Fortunately, the night helped to keep the trio from being seen, especially with the glare of the carnival behind them.

Stopping behind one large RV, Tiron flinched at the overwhelming stench of gasoline fumes. “I’m losing her,” she said, looking over at Jebaral. “There are too many smells to sort out. They’re confusing me. How about you?”

“I know what you mean. I think I have a stronger hold on her. I’m still getting something from over there. Follow me.”

Jebaral took the lead and began weaving between the vehicles, letting his Ruinos instincts guide him. Tiron caught her husband checking out the license plates as they passed by. DeGrassi caught her inquisitive stare.

“Just checking to see where they’re from, but this group looks like the parking lot at Disney World,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ve seen the same state twice.”

They paused again behind a converted silver and white bus. Jebaral lifted his face and sniffed at one of the windows. Looking at the other two, he smiled. “I think the term is ‘bongos’.”

“Want me to go first? Flash my badge? Technically speaking, I don’t have any jurisdiction in this county, but hopefully they won’t know that,” DeGrassi said.

Jebaral nodded, and he and Tiron watched as the big man squared his shoulders and walked around the front of the bus to the folding doors on the other side. Slowly, they crept around the back of the bus and waited from the back end.

DeGrassi knocked on the door. Presently, a female voice inside asked, “Who is it?”

“Deputy DeGrassi, ma’am.”

The doors parted slightly, enough for her to see the official badge he flashed at her. Immediately, Tiron could smell the woman’s concern and distrust wafting from the doorway. It was understandable, since DeGrassi wasn’t in uniform.

“What do you want? If you’re here to see Mr. Hall, he’s over at the sideshow.”

“It’s not urgent, ma’am. I’m not on duty. I’m here with family and noticed that some of the vehicles had out-of-date inspection stickers. Just thought I’d give whoever was in charge a heads-up. Maybe save you a few dollars in violation fees.” DeGrassi flashed her his easy smile that always managed to charm the ladies. Tiron was well aware of how disarming the man could be when he turned it on.

“She’s in there,” Jebaral’s voice was barely audible.

She nodded. She was catching Challa’s scent, too, but it had a sharp, almost sour bite to it. The other scent she remembered too well. It was the scent of death, but it had a different tinge to it. It didn’t have the foul odor of blood clinging to it, but something darker and heavier. And filled with crushing sorrow.

“Dearest heavens, it smells so…”

“Sad,” Jebaral finished for her.

She nodded, tears rising in her eyes.

“That’s the smell of a bonded mate who’s lost her other self.”

Tiron started. She believed Jebaral. Believed and trusted him as much as she did her own bond mate.

There was the telltale squeak of the bus doors opening wider.

“I’ll tell Mr. Hall to get in touch with the sheriff’s department as soon as he gets back. I appreciate you taking the time to point that out, Deputy,” the woman said. She started to say more when a low moan came from within the bus. Both the woman and DeGrassi froze. Jebaral and Tiron strained to see if they could hear more.

“Is something wrong?” DeGrassi inquired in a more authoritative tone. “Can I offer help?”

Another moan came from the bus. This time the word was clear.

“D’eeom…”

Jebaral and Tiron bolted from their hiding place and aimed for the bus doors. DeGrassi held them open as the woman gasped in surprise at the suddenness of the attack.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” DeGrassi tried to reassure her. “We’re family.”

“F-family?”

Tiron found her first. Falling on her knees, she reached over and gathered the young woman into her arms.

“Challa. Challa? Challa, it’s me. Tiron. Challa.”

Challa’s eyelids fluttered. “Gho ree…”

“Aminsta, Challa. Pleevat Tiron. Challa.” Tiron glanced back at the woman. “How long has she been sick like this?”

“She’s been feeling poorly ever since we left Cooper. Wha-what’s she saying?” the woman inquired.

“She’s asking for help,” Jebaral curtly answered. He signaled Tiron to move back, then bent down and gathered the young Ruinos in his arms.

The woman immediately protested. “Wait! Hold on! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t take her with you!”

“She’s asking for help,” DeGrassi snapped. “And if she’s been sick this long, I’m surprised no one’s had enough compassion to take her to the hospital.” He moved aside to allow Jebaral to leave the bus with Tiron right behind him. DeGrassi took caboose.

The woman watched helplessly as they rushed back to their own vehicles. “Where are you going?” she shouted, but no one paused long enough to answer her.

Without waiting to be told, Tiron climbed into the passenger seat, and Jebaral laid the semiconscious young woman in her arms before going to the truck. DeGrassi slid behind the wheel and drove away from the carnival as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until they were nearly two miles away that DeGrassi spoke up.

“Do I need to be looking for a hospital?”

Tiron remained staring at the face of the woman lying in her arms. The smell of death was strong and unmistakable.

“No. There’s nothing they can do to save her,” she answered.

“Then why did we take her with us?”

“So she can be with other Ruinos when she dies,” Tiron said, already feeling edges of pain that continued to eat away at the woman in her arms.

“How much longer do you think she has?”

Tiron gave a little shrug of one shoulder. “Not long.”

“What if she never wakes up?” DeGrassi persisted gently. “How will she know she’s with other Ruinos if she never wakes up?”

Tiron glanced over at him with tears in her eyes. “She already knows,” she told him. “Challa knows…and she’s grateful.”

DeGrassi’s phone rang. It was Jebaral.

“Any sign of consciousness?”

“No, but Roni says she’s aware of where she is, and that she’s with other Ruinos,” DeGrassi informed him.

“Why don’t I take the lead?”

“Good idea,” DeGrassi agreed, and hung up as they watched his truck come around to take point.

Challa moved again in Tiron’s arms. She sighed, and slowly her eyes opened. Her face was clouded with confusion and pain. “Akee…” Where… The further she sank toward death, the more Challa gravitated back into her true self, including her native language.

“It’s Tiron, Challa. You’re with me. Jebaral’s here, too. And Simolif.” Tiron spoke to her in their own tongue. “You’re safe. We’re with you.”

Challa tried to take a deep breath, but failed. Her face convulsed. “V’git…alorr…” Why…dying…

“I don’t understand, kolli,” Tiron murmured to her. “Why dying? Why are you dying? Because you lost your blood mate.”

Challa opened her eyes again. This time, however, her confusion was more pronounced. It was as if she had a moment of clarity. “Compton’s dead?”

Tiron frowned. She glanced up at DeGrassi, who returned an equally puzzled look.

“What?” DeGrassi asked.

“Compton is…dead?” Challa repeated. Tears rolled down the side of her face.

Tiron hugged her closer. “Isn’t he?”

“What is she saying, Roni?” DeGrassi spoke up again. “I thought you and Jeb said her blood mate was dead.”

“I…” Tiron tried to answer him, and gave up, turning her attention back to the young woman in her arms. “Challa, is Compton your blood mate?”

Challa struggled. Several more tears rolled over her pale cheeks. Her usually dark green Ruinos skin was now the color of old cabbage. “He…he can’t be.”

“What do you mean, he can’t be?” Tiron gave her a little shake. “Stay with me, Challa. What do you mean, he can’t be? Did you make love to him?”

“Yes.” The answer was a whisper.

“Did you orgasm? Did he?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’s your blood mate,” Tiron told her. To her surprise, more pain filled Challa’s face and eyes.

“Nooo.”

“No? Challa—”

“No…blood line.”

It took a moment for Challa’s confession to sink in. Tiron grabbed the young woman’s left arm and looked at it. “Thom?”

“What?”

“No…blood line,” Challa repeated weakly.

“Then…shit. I don’t understand,” he admitted. “If there’s no blood line, why is she dying like she is?”

DeGrassi’s phone rang again. It was Jebaral checking up on Challa, and letting them know Sarah and Simolif had arrived in Tumbril Harbor. “Any change?”

“She’s awake,” DeGrassi told him. “But what she’s saying doesn’t make sense.”

“What is she saying?” Jebaral asked.

“She’s saying she and a man named Compton had sex, and they both orgasmed, but she didn’t get a blood line. It has Roni and I both stumped.”

There was a moment of silence over the phone as Jebaral absorbed the news. The Ruinos man’s next question completely threw DeGrassi for a loop. “Did she make love to him as her true self?”

“What?”

“Ask her.”

DeGrassi looked over at his wife. “Jeb wants you to ask her if she made love as her true self.”

Tiron bent over the nearly unconscious woman. “Challa? Challa, when you made love to Compton, did you do it as your true self?”

Challa’s response was soft but clear. “No.”

“She said no,” DeGrassi relayed on the phone.

“That’s why,” Jebaral explained. “The first time Simolif made love to Sarah, they both orgasmed, but because he remained in his human form, he didn’t get a blood line. She has to make love as Ruinos or the line won’t form. But all the other signs are there,” he added.

DeGrassi gave the news to his wife. “Make her understand he is her blood mate, but because she wasn’t her true self when they made love, that’s why she doesn’t have the blood line.”

Tiron gave her another little shake. “Did you hear that, Challa? Do you understand what we’re telling you? Compton is your blood mate, but you won’t get a blood line until you make love as Ruinos!”

DeGrassi spoke back into the cell. “Jeb?”

“Yeah?”

“What if her mate is still alive? Could she be dying by being separated from him?”

“Yes!” Tiron nearly shouted before Jebaral could answer. “Yes! Oh, by all the stars, yes, she can.” She bit her lower lip as more memories rushed forward, bringing their stinging pain with them. Lowering her voice, Tiron told her husband, “If you hadn’t come back to me that night and made love to me, I would have died. A day later, or that next night, but I would not have been able to survive without you…and we hadn’t even had sex yet.”

DeGrassi took a deep, shuddering breath as her words sank in. “Ask Challa if this Compton is still alive, and where he can be found.”

Readjusting Challa in her arms, Tiron managed to free one of her hands. Touching the young Ruinos on the cheek, she said, “Challa, is Compton alive?”

Challa slowly opened her eyes.

“Is Compton still alive?” Tiron repeated.

“Yes.”

“Where is he? Where does he live?”

“C—Cooper.”

“That woman on the bus said Challa had been feeling sick ever since they left Cooper,” DeGrassi remembered. “Jeb, hang up. I gotta put out an alert on this guy. Roni, find out what Compton’s full name is.” He closed the cell then opened it again. The blueish-white glare from the phone’s screen cast the interior of the truck cab in an eerie, almost otherworldly glow.

“What if we don’t find him in time?” Tiron asked, worried.

Her husband grimaced. “We can’t think negatively, Roni. Not when Challa’s life is at stake. Find out the guy’s name, and I’ll get the ball rolling on my end.” He took another deep breath and adjusted himself in his seat. “It’s a miracle we managed to get to her in time. Let’s do what we can to save her, and hope we’re in time.”

Chapter 31

Location

The carnival wasn’t in New Meyersville, Bixley, or Van Batten. Neither was it in Charisford, Kyle, Spring Bottom, or Mt. Varish. Compton stared at the map in the glare of the truck’s cab light. There was no telling where it was. Worse, with the hit-and-miss search pattern he was using, they could be as close as five miles away, or five hundred miles away, and he wouldn’t know it.

He polished off the last of the cold coffee in the paper cup and checked his watch. It was nearly eleven. Rubbing his forehead with one hand, Compton tried to focus again on the map, but his eyes stung. He was tired, and he had a nice stress headache growing between his temples. But he couldn’t give up. Somehow, for some reason he could neither understand nor explain, he knew he couldn’t stop searching for her. He had to keep going, keep looking, but unfortunately time was being a mean bitch in the process.

“Challa, where the hell are you?” he murmured again. He’d lost count of how many times he had repeated that question. It was almost becoming a mantra to him. Challa, where are you? Where are you, Challa?

A glance at his gas gauge told him he needed to start looking for a twenty-four hour filling station. His stomach growled to also let him know he hadn’t filled it in some time, either. His best bet at taking care of both would be to find a truck stop along the interstate, since most small-town gas stations closed up early.

He was tracing a nearby farm-to-market on the map, looking for the quickest route to the four-lane, when his cell phone rang. Who would be calling me at this time of night? His first thought was that it might be Challa, when he remembered that he hadn’t given her his cell number, or even thought to. Compton mentally kicked himself for the oversight as he answered the phone.

“Hello.”

A strange man inquired, “Is this Compton Scott?”

Compton paused, eyes narrowing. Less than a handful of people had his number, and each one of them had a specific reason for having it. He didn’t recognize the voice, so his answer was noncommittal. “Who wants to know?”

“Compton, my name is Thom DeGrassi. I’m a deputy sheriff over in Russup County, specifically in the town of Tumbril Harbor.”

Compton began searching the map for Russup County as he waited for the man to continue.

“Compton, I’m calling on behalf of Challa Doon.”

His heart nearly stopped beating. A hundred questions rushed into his mouth, jostling to be asked. Instead, he said a quick prayer before answering, and hoped this wasn’t some sort of sick joke being perpetrated by Hall.

“How did you get this number?”

“Compton, listen carefully to me. Challa is dying. You’re her blood mate, but because you didn’t make love to her while she was Ruinos, her blood line didn’t form. So she left Cooper, thinking you weren’t meant to be together.”

It was like striking him in the face with a baseball bat. This man knew Challa, knew she was Ruinos, and more importantly, knew the two of them had had intimate relations. The only answers he could find to his questions were either the guy was legit, or one of Hall’s cronies. Years of Army training made him choose the latter.

“Nice try, asshole. Tell Hall I’m not falling for whatever he hopes to accomplish.”

There was silence on the other end then a very weak voice whispered, “Compton?”

Ohmigod, Challa! “Challa?”

“Listen…to Thom…t’kor.”

T’kor. He remembered her calling him that once before, back when they had been making love. A word in her language that sounded like a love name.

Challa went away, and another female voice took her place. “Compton? My name is Tiron. I am Ruinos.”

The accent was undeniable. No one could imitate that accent. He realized his mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. He sat up straighter as Tiron continued.

“We took Challa away from the carnival, and we’re heading back to Tumbril Harbor. You need to meet us there as soon as possible.”

“How? I mean, how do I get there?” There was no longer any sense in trying to tell himself the phone call was a hoax. From the moment he heard her voice, Compton knew Challa needed him and would be waiting for him there.

The phone switched hands. The deputy returned. “Compton? What’s your closest interstate?”

“Eighty-eight. I’m about eleven miles or so away from getting on it.”

“Great. I think I know where you are. Go east until you see the cutoff to Settler’s Ridge. Take the exit and go north. Call me when you get to the cutoff, and I’ll talk you in.”

“Challa…is she…”

“Hurry, Compton. And drive safe.”

The connection ended. Immediately, Compton tossed the phone on the passenger seat and threw the truck into drive. Gravel spewed from beneath his tires as he gunned down the road, looking for the 168 intersection.

Head east. The guy said to head east until he reached the cutoff to Settler’s Ridge.

Challa is dying. You’re her blood mate, but because you didn’t make love to her while she was Ruinos, her blood line didn’t form. So she left Cooper, thinking you weren’t meant to be together.

We started to. We started to, but I was afraid of what those hands with those talons might do, so I had her change. It had been the wrong thing to do. He realized that now, but neither he nor Challa had known it would make any difference at the time.

“Hang on, honey. Hang on, Challa. I’m coming for you. Please, just…hang on.”

Please, just hang on. It would become his new mantra.

Chapter 32

Chip

Jebaral jumped out of the truck and rushed over to the SUV as it pulled in behind him. Tiron handed Challa over, and he hurried up the porch steps where Sarah was holding open the front door. He gave her a nod of thanks in passing.

Dr. Fitzhugh was standing near the couch. Jebaral carefully laid Challa on the cushions and stepped back.

“Any change?” the physician asked as he began to examine the young Ruinos.

Tiron answered as she took a stance at the foot of the couch. “No. None that I could sense. I think she’s fighting back.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of Tiron’s lips. “That’s our little kolli.”

“Kolli?” Hannah echoed.

“It means ‘little fighter’,” Jebaral told his wife as he put an arm around her shoulders. “A few of the children who were born on the slave ship showed a potential for being stronger than the others. As well as a potential for greater bravery. That’s why Challa had been spared. She was one of the fearless ones.”

Simolif came over to give his brother a hug. “What have you heard from her mate?” he asked DeGrassi, who stood behind his wife.

“He should be seeing the cutoff to the spur very soon. He’s going to call again when he hits town.”

“I’ll go wait at the turn-off,” Jebaral volunteered. Dropping a kiss to Hannah’s hair, he left the house.

A sigh from the sofa drew everyone’s attention back to the doctor’s examination. Dr. Fitzhugh frowned. “Her vitals aren’t good, but I agree with you, Roni. She seems to be fighting to hold on. Then again,” he shrugged, “maybe she can tell he’s getting closer, and it’s helping her to stay strong.”

“It’s very possible,” Tiron said. “She’s been in and out of consciousness the whole way, but she knows Compton is on his way here to be with her.”

“What about her chip?” DeGrassi spoke up.

“Just getting to it,” the physician said. Laying Challa’s left arm across his lap, the doctor swabbed her inner wrist with alcohol. A sterilized scalpel still in its packet sat on a tray on a chair next to him. Peeling the blade from its pack, he pressed a thumb to the area where he would need to cut, right above where her wing membrane began. “This is going to hurt,” he told her, and cut into the pale flesh.

* * * *

Challa’s eyes snapped open as the blade slid into her wrist, but she didn’t make a sound or cry out in pain. Groggy from fighting the debilitating effects of her separation from her blood mate, she managed to focus on the sight of the man peeling away her skin. A dark-haired woman mopped up the bright red blood flowing away from the cut with wads of gauze.

She frowned. The woman looked…familiar. But not familiar. The last hour was a mishmash of dreams and sounds, of words being spoken to her and above her. But she remembered enough to know she was among her own kind. Among other Ruinos.

The doctor slipped the edge of the scalpel underneath the skin. Nerve endings protested, and she tried to jerk her arm away. Challa bared her teeth in warning.

“Whoa,” Dr. Fitzhugh cooed. His grip was unforgiving, as was the dark-haired woman’s who held her hand.

“Another minute, kolli.” The woman looked over at Challa.

The voice. The silver eyes with silvery flakes.

Challa whimpered. “Tiron?”

“Yes, Challa,” Tiron said, adding a warm smile as she mopped up more blood.

“Damn it!” Dr. Fitzhugh sat up and turned to the others standing and watching. “I don’t see it.”

“You don’t see it? Or you can’t find it?” Simolif asked.

“It’s not there,” the doctor told them. “She doesn’t have a chip.”

“That’s impossible!” Hannah said as the others also responded.

“Every Ruinos we’ve contacted had the chip,” DeGrassi told the man. “How could Challa not have it? Maybe it’s the wrong arm.”

Tiron corrected her husband. “The doctor knows what he’s doing. It’s the correct arm. I’ve been watching. He went into the same exact spot where he removed the chip from my arm, and Simolif’s, and Jebaral’s. Challa doesn’t have a chip.”

Simolif stepped forward. “Challa was a youngling on the slave ship. She didn’t reach mating age until we were already on the escape ship. Maybe…maybe the Arra didn’t implant the chips until after a Ruinos reached puberty.”

“It’s very possible,” Dr. Fitzhugh sighed. “Hannah, can you hand me a couple of those butterfly bandages, please? Keep holding her, Roni, while I close her up.”

“You’re not going to keep looking?” Tiron asked.

The doctor shook his head. “I didn’t bring along a portable x-ray to check to see if she might have one in the other arm. But I’m not going to cut into her again just to dig around in the hope of finding one. Not in the condition she’s in at the moment.” He applied the two bandages before adding a clean gauze pad on top of them and taping it down. “I’ve done all I can. She needs rest, and she needs her blood mate. As soon as she can change back into her human form, bring her over to the clinic and I’ll screen her.”

Getting to his feet, the doctor removed his latex gloves and stuffed them into his carryall, along with the rest of his instruments. He started toward the front door, but paused in front of Jebaral, who shook his hand.

“Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure,” the physician said. “Always my pleasure. I feel extremely humbled to know you trust me with your secret and your lives.” Smiling, the man gave the rest a nod and a good night, and left, closing the door behind him.

Simolif looked over at his wife who was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop. “Anything?”

“Nope. So far everything looks clear,” Sarah replied and shut the lid as she stood. “The skies look clear tonight. No sign of Arra anywhere, as far as I can tell.”

“Cars are coming,” Tiron noted, straightening.

“Compton.” Challa had heard it, too—the muffled roar of vehicle engines. One in particular had a peculiar pinging sound. Compton’s truck had something wrong in its engine.

The sound was gradually getting louder, and her world became cohesive again. The torn parts were rejoining. Overlapping, sealing, healing. Challa felt her heart strengthening, unfolding, pumping blood again to the cold parts of her body and infusing them with heat the closer he got.

They listened to the sound of the trucks approaching the house until they stopped out front. There was the slamming of doors, and footsteps pounded up the steps.

Compton threw open the door, barely giving anyone a glance as he focused on the small figure lying on the sofa.

“Challa!”

“T’kor!”

He fell on one knee in front of the sofa and pulled her into his embrace. Several moments passed in silence as the two tightly held onto each other. Presently, Compton leaned back and turned to look at the others gathered.

“Thank you. It’s not much to offer in gratitude, but…thank you.”

Tiron reached over and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. She motioned toward the hallway. “Take her to the bedroom. Make love to her as Ruinos. When the blood line forms in her arm, then you can thank us,” she said with a smile.

* * * *

They watched as Compton stood, then picked up Challa and carried her down the hall. Once the couple had disappeared into the first bedroom, DeGrassi sighed loudly. “Thank God that’s over.”

“It may not be over yet,” Hannah said, looking at her husband. “What if the Arra show up?”

Sarah answered, “I don’t see how. Challa doesn’t have the chip in her arm, so how would they know she’s taken a blood mate?”

“So you don’t see any point in us staying up and keeping watch? Keep a guard posted, just in case?” Hannah asked. “I don’t want any more nightmares like we had after the last time.”

Chuckling, Jebaral pulled Hannah into his arms and kissed her forehead. “If it will make you feel safer, I’ll stay here tonight and keep watch.”

“So will I,” Simolif offered, adding, “Will that make you feel better?”

Hannah smiled. “Yes. Thanks.”

DeGrassi stepped forward. “Listen. Tell you what. I’ll keep watch inside. Jeb, you and Simon can watch the outside. Between the three of us—”

“Four,” Tiron interrupted, giving her husband a determined look he was very familiar with. Chuckling, DeGrassi nodded. “Between the four of us, we should be well prepared in case the Arra show up.”

The others laughed as the tension and fear from the last hour evaporated. Tonight there would be love and a new blood line formed. If the doctor was right, and there was no signaling chip implanted in Challa, then the Arra would not appear as they had in the past whenever they were notified of a confirmed mating.

Tonight was another miracle. Tomorrow everyone would celebrate the new bonding.

And it promised to be a beautiful day.

Chapter 33

T’korra

Compton elbowed the light switch that was on the wall by the doorway. A lamp on the other side of the bed was the only illumination in the room, but it was enough.

Carefully he lowered Challa onto the bed, then went back to shut the door. Turning around, he saw her lift her arms toward him, beckoning him to join her. Without taking off his shoes first, Compton lay down beside her and gathered her into his embrace, burying his nose against her neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Compton.”

“Shhh.” He tried to calm her as she clutched him. Her taloned hands were wrapped in his shirt, but he no longer cared. He no longer worried about what her claws would do, or could do. None of it mattered anymore. A tear, a rip, a cut, or a nick—they would all be small prices to pay, and he would happily pay for them all if it meant having Challa with him.

He could tell she was weak. Her arms barely had enough energy to remain wrapped around his neck. Kissing her neck and shoulder, he pressed his lips to her temple. “You didn’t know. We didn’t know, or we would have made love while you were Ruinos.” He kissed her again, this time next to the small ear. “We’re going to make love tonight, Challa. And you’re going to see that blood line, whatever it is. I promise.”

Laying her back onto the pillows, Compton sat up and began to unbutton her short-sleeved shirt. Challa kept her eyes on him, on his face and his eyes. “I never thought I would see you again,” she whispered. She sounded stronger. Compton smiled as he drew the shirt over her head, pulling her arms from the sleeves.

“You know, you weren’t the only one hurting,” he told her. At her surprised response, Compton added, “It wasn’t going to kill me. Not like it would you. But I felt like I’d been run over by a train. Every muscle in my body ached. I had a headache that bordered on being a migraine. In the past, I’ve had the flu and walking pneumonia, and with those I felt like I was going to die. I’ve been shot. Bombed. Pumped so full of painkillers, I have no recollection of how close I came to dying while I lay at death’s door. But what I felt when you were gone…” He paused, blinking back tears, and took a calming breath. “God help me. Thom told me about this bonding thing when he was talking me in on the phone. He said…he said I’ll understand better as time goes on.”

He tossed the shirt to the floor and stared down at her beautiful breasts. Small, round, and firm, with pale pink nipples. The nipples got to him. An alien with nipples. Who would have thought? Without thinking, he reached down and spread his hands over her breasts, and their tips reacted immediately, jutting into his palms.

Challa sighed and closed her eyes as he massaged her flesh, warming it, kneading it as she lifted herself slightly. Her talons closed over his hands, and she pushed them down to the tie at the waistband of her pants.

Compton chuckled. “You have a belly button. Isn’t that funny? We’ve already made love twice, but I’m just now discovering these things about you.” He bent over and licked her flat belly. Her abdomen quivered; her breathing grew ragged. Pressing his forehead to her skin, he shivered. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I can’t…I’m sorry, Challa. Forgive me.”

“For what?”

“For not believing. For not truly believing.” He nuzzled her softness, and the feeling of comfort was undeniable.

Sharp, taloned fingers tenderly brushed his face. “I’m as much at fault, my t’kor.”

He smiled and glanced up into deep, sapphire blue eyes with those jewel-colored purple flecks. “What does that mean?”

“What?”

“That. T’kor. You’ve said it before to me.”

“It means ‘my love’. My bond mate. My blood mate.” She traced his lower lip with her thumb. The nearly five-inch blade brushed gently across his mouth. At that moment Compton realized how stupid he had been to think that she could inadvertently injure him.

“I’m sorry.”

Challa frowned. Her skin crinkled around her eyes, just like a human’s. “Sorry? Again? For what?”

Taking her hand, he kissed what he thought of as her knuckles. “For all I’ve put you through. For letting you go. For not making you stay with me that day after I took you over to the sheriff’s office.” He shook his head. “Never again, Challa. I swear to you, I’m not letting you go. Not ever again. You realize that now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

She was growing stronger. How he could tell, he couldn’t begin to explain. But he knew without asking that the danger of losing her was over.

He undid the tie and tugged her pants over her hips. He wasn’t surprised to discover she didn’t wear any underwear. Tentatively, he trailed his fingertips over her bare mound. Its softness amazed him. Impulsively, Compton bent down to drag his tongue across the smooth, hairless expanse. It was like licking a firm piece of warm fruit.

“Ohhh, Challa. Is there any place on you that doesn’t smell or taste like honeysuckle?”

His answer was a light giggle, and it was enough to press his libido button. If his dick wasn’t already making his jeans fit uncomfortably, raw need shot straight to its head, leaving him harder than concrete and hurting like hell to get rid of the constricting pants.

He got off the bed and reached to remove her sneakers and socks. Dropping them on the floor, he grabbed the bottoms of her pants and quickly jerked them off. Compton paused to stare at her, paying closer attention to the details of her body that he had previously overlooked.

“How ’bout that! Your wings are translucent.”

“They’re what?” She glanced down at herself.

“Your wings. I can see somewhat through them.” Compton started to climb back on the bed when Challa held up a hand to stop him.

“Your clothes. Now. Off.” Although her voice was still somewhat weak, her tone was playful.

He laughed and quickly shed his shirt before sitting next to her to remove his boots. He noticed how she was also scrutinizing his body. Compton dropped his pants and stepped out of them before sitting back down to unbuckle his prosthetic.

“You have a lot of scars,” Challa told him. A hand tickled along his ribs.

“Yeah. Ugly, aren’t they?”

“No.” She tilted her head. “They make you look like a Ruinos male.”

That surprised him, especially since he didn’t know what the male version of her alien species looked like. He vaguely remembered the tall, dark-haired man and the short blond one who had been standing around the sofa when he walked into the house. DeGrassi had explained the family make-up, but Compton had only been listening with half an ear. His whole focus had been on getting back to Challa to keep her from getting sicker and maybe dying—a scenario the deputy guaranteed would have been the outcome if Compton and Challa never reunited.

“She’s your life mate. But because she’s Ruinos, she can’t live without you. I swear I’m not making this up.”

“How come you know so much?” Compton asked, more curious than anything. “You don’t sound like one of them.”

“I’m not, but I’m married to Tiron. She’s a female Ruinos, like Challa.”

“Did Tiron almost die because of you?”

The deputy cleared his throat. When he continued, Compton could hear the echo of past pain in his confession. “I put her through hell…in the beginning. I swore to her I would never put her through anything like that again. I’ve kept my word, and I always will. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I love her more than my own life. And once that final blood bond forms between you and Challa, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”

Dropping the mechanical leg onto the floor, Compton swung around to face her. Challa’s eyes immediately went to his erection angling upward, away from his body.

“Does that part of me look like a Ruinos male, too?” He hoped she would realize he was half-teasing. Half.

“From what I’ve seen.”

Enough of this. Scooting closer, he lightly wiped his hand over the smooth membrane running under her arm and along her side. He followed it down to her ankle, tracking the almost thread-thin veins webbed through it. The skin was warm and pliant, no more than several thin epidermal layers stretched between her limbs. Delicate, like the skin over the eyelids. Yet strong. Compton slowly ran his hand down the wings, and got a low moan in response. Surprised, he looked up to see a rapturous expression on her face. “Do you like me doing this?”

“Yes. It feels good.” She added a relaxed smile.

Well, of course it would feel good, nin-Comp-poop. After all, it’s her skin, just in a different place.

Another idea struck him, and he bent down to nuzzle the almost baby-soft membrane. As he expected, the scent of warm honeysuckle covered every inch. Compton licked the wing, and Challa’s reaction was instantaneous. She gasped, and her nipples puckered into tight buds. Her aroma thickened the air like incense. He immediately realized her wings were a major erogenous zone. He licked it again, and this time she moaned softly. Compton glanced up at her face, at her eyes now shut as she savored his caresses.

“Why didn’t you tell me your wings were a major turn-on for you?”

She peeked at him between her lashes. “A major what?”

Laughter bubbled up inside him. “Never mind, my love. My t’kor.” He started to continue lapping at the succulent taste of her wings when Challa openly laughed.

“You’re my t’kor,” she corrected him. “I’m your t’korra.”

“Well, excuse me!” He chuckled, and ran his tongue all the way up until he almost reached her elbow. It was like taking a long lick of the sweetest candy. “God help me, I could eat you up!”

Challa grabbed him by the shoulders and almost pulled him down on top of her. Her face was flushed, if the dark forest green shade meant what he thought it meant. Her eyes were wide pools, and the sparkling bits of whatever was in them were moving about quickly, like flecks in a snowglobe someone had shaken.

He kissed her, never thinking twice about the rows of needlelike teeth in her mouth. Her tongue probed his lips, and he opened his mouth to allow her access, to feel her tongue touching his own teeth and the upper roof of his mouth, until she met his tongue. Compton impulsively closed over hers and suckled it, creating a rhythmic motion. Gently, tongue slid over tongue, and Challa opened her mouth in surrender.

Compton slowly reveled in her mouth and its sweet recesses. It took him a minute before he became aware of the fact that she had somehow retracted her teeth to give him access. The moment his mind grasped the fact that she did it to protect him, a slideshow of possibilities raced through his mind…

…of Challa taking his erection into her mouth. The rough surfaces of her teeth scraping the scarred, sensitive flesh stretched taut over his member.

…of him lapping her moistness between her legs, to see how she tasted. Knowing how tasty she would be. Accepting the fact ahead of time that he would never be able to assuage his hunger for her.

Compton released her tongue and lifted himself up until he could gaze down at her. He wanted to go slow, to savor her, but his body was starting to send off flares. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. Compton nuzzled her cheek then climbed onto the bed.

Challa opened her eyes to stare up at him. Her gaze remained on him as he scooted to the foot of the bed and gently parted her legs.

“Remember what I told you in the shower the other night?” he asked her.

She nodded.

Rather than repeat himself, Compton thumbed apart her inner lips and started to dive into her when he caught sight of something that surprised him. He glanced up at her watching him, then back down.

“You have two clits?”

“Yes.”

“Two?”

She frowned. “Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”

No, there’s nothing wrong with having two clits, considering you’re an alien. Curious, he reached over with his index finger and strummed the two stiff little nubs. The effect on Challa was instantaneous. She gasped and gave a little cry as she lifted her hips toward him. The buds pulsed against his knuckle, and another gentle wave of her sweet floral scent washed over him.

He lifted her knees then bent to bury his nose and mouth in her silky wetness. It was like diving into a pool of molten candy. One lap, then another, and another. Over and over Compton dipped his tongue into the narrow slot, pressing the tip of it into her depths, and letting her tasty cream ease into his mouth. Covering one of the buds with his lips, he began to suckle it, rubbing his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerve endings in the engorged button. Challa writhed beneath him, unable to move as his hands were firmly keeping her legs separated.

It didn’t take him long to find a licking, sucking rhythm that kept her fever climbing. In his mouth her clits pulsed with increasing frequency. Her cream flowed, and Compton eagerly smeared his cheeks and chin in it. There was nothing on earth that tasted like it. That tasted or smelled like her. It was overwhelming his own senses, and his dick felt so hard, it ached.

Suddenly, Challa’s body went totally rigid. She raised her hips, almost ramming herself into his face. Compton dug his fingers into her thighs and held on. A high-pitched whine erupted from her throat—a siren song that also curled its nails into his skin, into his blood, and shot pure hot lust from his brain to his ball.

She was still riding the crest of her orgasm when Compton launched himself on top of her body and shoved his pain-filled erection into her. Almost simultaneously, he came as her body closed around him. Two, three lunges and he let go with a loud groan.

Challa’s body continued to milk him as his body sizzled in its release. Hot, moist muscles stroked his dick, tugging on the deformed head and the rough scars as she came back down to earth, until he had pumped everything he had into her. Breathing heavily, he barely had the chance to roll off of her and onto his side before exhaustion claimed him. He was vaguely aware of them clutching each other, preventing them from separating as the shudders reduced to trembling.

“I love you, t’korra,” he whispered and sank into sleep, still simmering in the afterglow.

Chapter 34

Munchies

Crickets. He could hear crickets. And breathing. The breathing wasn’t his, and for that he was grateful. It meant the past few hours had not been a dream. Or nightmare.

Compton opened his eyes and realized he’d left the bedside lamp on. Its glow didn’t hit him directly in the face because Challa was blocking the light.

She sighed and moved. It brought her body a bit closer to him until he could feel the heat coming off her. She was like a small furnace, making him wish he could curl himself around her. If he did, he knew it would awaken her, but after her brush with death, he wanted Challa to get all the rest she could.

Rising up on one elbow, Compton glanced over at Challa’s left arm where it lay across her belly. His curiosity aroused, he reached out to take her bandaged wrist and turn it over. A thin, almost iridescent trail of color shimmered from the wrapping to her elbow. He stared at the rainbow that sparkled in the filament-sized mark. Her bloodline.

Blood mates.

Damn. He had believed them when they had told him he and Challa were meant to be together, but seeing the proof the way they had described it still was a shock.

Challa stretched her legs. It was an involuntary movement in her sleep, but it reminded him that he was left with just the one leg. And she doesn’t care. He still couldn’t believe it. She doesn’t care that I’m incomplete and scarred. She doesn’t care that my johnson looks like a nightmarish dildo. She doesn’t care that my pension barely covers my expenses. She doesn’t care…

…because she loves me. And she has faith that we will endure. She trusts me with her life and her well-being.

He reached up to scratch the stubble on his chin and glanced at both of his own inner arms to see if he also sported a blood line. Not seeing one, Compton felt somewhat disappointed. All right, Challa. What happens now? How will I be changed?

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Compton tried to ignore it and closed his eyes to go back to sleep when his belly clenched painfully. Back in the military, there had been many, many days and nights when he’d been forced to subsist on bare minimum rations, if any at all. There had been nights when he rarely slept, followed by days when he was on constant patrol. Men who came fresh from training were in the best of health. But it didn’t take long before their mental and physical condition deteriorated under the stress until the seasoned veterans were easily recognizable by their gaunt, tough-as-steel bodies, and their nearly psychotic sense of self-preservation.

After his release from the hospital, Compton had promised himself he would never again go hungry, or cold, or need any basic physical comfort. He had paid his dues while in the military. He now had the rest of his life to look forward to. The bullies who had made his life miserable before he’d left town were either gone or looking at him with new respect. The only thing Compton didn’t have up until now was someone to share his ever after with.

He opened his eyes again to see Challa’s face turned toward him. She was in deepest sleep, and with a start Compton realized he knew that fact although he couldn’t explain how. Challa was unconscious to the point where he knew he could get up and leave momentarily without waking her. And get a bite to eat. Wonder what’s in the fridge?

The fact that he was a guest didn’t deter him. If this was his place and he was the host, he would not fault his visitor from getting something to eat. However, he knew that some people wouldn’t take kindly to having strangers paw through their pantry without permission. Strangely, though, Compton had the feeling if he went snack hunting, he wouldn’t be tossed out if he was caught.

Carefully, he tried not to jiggle the bed too much as he scooted down to the foot and retrieved his prosthetic where he’d dropped it. After that, he slid on his jeans, foregoing a shirt and shoes despite the slight chill in the room. The sweat he’d worked up earlier had dried. The unusually cool evening felt good.

Behind him Challa rolled onto her stomach, unconsciously seeking his warmth. Compton grabbed the quilt that had slid to the floor and covered her with it. He caught a glimpse of platelike scales overlapping her spine, and made a mental note to check them out the next time they made love.

Hmm, haven’t gone the doggie route yet. Compton grinned. The thought of having Challa bent over to take him from the rear made his dick quiver. The realization he had a promising sex life now nearly made him laugh out loud for joy.

He peeked out the bedroom door, into the hallway. To the right there was a door at the end of the hall, plus another door on the other side of the hall directly across from him. To the left he could make out the living room. Compton pulled the bedroom door, until there was barely a sliver of light to guide him down the corridor.

Feeling his way along the wall, his fingers found a light switch. He closed his eyes before flipping it on, giving himself to the count of ten before opening them. As he’d expected, the kitchen was off the living room, to his right. The light he’d turned on was a lamp near the sofa. But it was bright enough for him to see the refrigerator.

Compton always believed a person’s fridge said more about his lifestyle than the kind of house he lived in, or the model of car he drove, or even the brand of clothes he wore. By his estimation, it was evident from peering inside that somebody had a sweet tooth.

Someone was behind him.

Past training took over. Compton immediately dropped and rolled away from the fridge. There was nothing within reach to use as a weapon, but that didn’t matter. He was well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Crouching, he raised his arms to defend himself, which he knew he was very capable of doing, when the figure leaned against the doorframe.

“You know, other people in this house might get the midnight munchies, too,” a deep voice drawled.

Compton paused then slowly stood. The deputy stood outlined in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. The man was built like a wall, and he cast a long shadow.

“Sorry. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. I mean yesterday morning.”

DeGrassi waved it off. “No need to explain. I’m probably the only other person on this earth who knows exactly what you’re going through.” Pointing at the open refrigerator, he added, “I brought a bucket of chicken home last night. Help yourself.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“Roni makes a damn delicious carrot cake.” DeGrassi chuckled. He stepped into the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light. Compton realized with a start that the man was nude and totally comfortable being that way. It was also obvious the man worked out. Although Compton knew his own physique wasn’t shabby, despite his deformities, DeGrassi had a six-pack Compton could envy.

“Grab some paper plates, would you? I’ll get the goodies.”

There was a pantry to his right. Compton found the plates inside. He also tore some paper towels off the roll near the sink before taking a seat, but not before he noticed the deputy staring at his artificial foot.

“I’d seen the hitch in your giddy-up when you got out of your truck,” the deputy remarked, placing the container of fried chicken on the table in front of him. He added another bowl of something, along with the cake, then went over to the cabinet to get a couple of glasses. “Milk or water?”

“Uhh, milk. Thanks.”

DeGrassi poured two glasses, grabbed a couple of forks from a drawer, and brought them back to the table. “Eat up. The girls won’t hear us.”

Compton stared at him, slowly digesting the fact that they indeed had a lot more in common that what appeared on the surface. He tried to be oblique about studying the naked deputy, but DeGrassi snorted under Compton’s observation.

“You’re wondering how Roni and I got together, right?”

“It had entered my mind.”

The bowl contained a fruit salad. DeGrassi spooned a large helping onto his plate. “Long story short, she was a hooker and I was the cop who busted her.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Here?”

“No. In Crescent City.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“I was tired of being a homicide detective. I wanted Roni and I to have a new start, and I practically grew up in Tumbril Harbor.”

“Got kinfolk here?”

“My aunt. She raised me after my parents died. I thought Roni would love the national park and all here. Ruinos love being around trees and flowers. Their homeworld was one giant forest, from what I understand. That’s why they love to go running at night.”

That was a fact Compton was unfamiliar with. He stored it away for future reference. “Did you know Jeb and Simon were here?”

“Nope. That was a shock. It’s pretty special how they ended up here in Tumbril Harbor. Incidentally, Simon and Sarah don’t live here. They live in Templeton. Simon works in construction, and Sarah’s a professor of astronomy at the university there. She keeps tabs on the Arra for us. Sometime you need to listen to Hannah tell their story.”

Compton looked around. He started to ask if any of the other Ruinos were in the house, when DeGrassi answered ahead of him. “Simon and Sarah are staying at Jeb and Hannah’s, but the men are outside right now keeping their eyes open for the Arra.”

“What do you mean?”

DeGrassi took a drink. “Every time a Ruinos found a blood mate, those damn pus balls would swoop in to take them away. It happened to Jeb and Hannah, to Simon when he and Sarah made love, and to Roni and me. Thankfully we all barely managed to defeat the bastards. It was Sarah who discovered the Arra had implanted the Ruinos with little homing chips, so that when the blood lines were formed, it would tip them off. Dr. Fitzhugh checked Challa for the implant, but he didn’t find one. We think it’s because Challa was still a child when the Ruinos escaped, and the Arra didn’t put in the implants until a Ruinos reached adulthood.”

“If Challa didn’t have an implant, why are Jeb and—” Compton closed his mouth before finishing his question. He didn’t need to ask because he already knew the answer. And as ex-military, it made perfect sense. In short, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Roni joined them for a couple of hours, but after Sarah said she saw nothing on the radar to indicate the Arra were on their way, I convinced her to come to bed.”

They ate in relative silence for a short while until Compton spoke again. “You said Jeb and Simon are brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Tiron related?”

“No, but they treat her like a sister. Just like they look on Challa as a younger sibling.” DeGrassi eyed Compton’s bare chest, especially the small scars. “What’s your story? What branch of the military are you in?”

“Was. Army.”

“Wounded in action?”

Compton nodded, grabbing another piece of chicken. “Yeah. My unit got hit with an RPG. Lost my leg at the thigh, tore away one of my balls, and left my schwang looking like a chewed-up dog toy.” He paused, still amazed by the miracle of it all. “I’m having a hard time believing all this.”

The deputy grinned. “Trust me. I was in that twilight zone, too. Okay, don’t get pissed at what I’m about to ask, but you never got laid before you met Challa, did you?”

Compton stared at him in surprise, which made DeGrassi chuckle.

“It’s a cold, hard fact, Compton,” DeGrassi stated. “True blood mates have their first orgasms together.”

“Now I know you’re shittin’ me.”

DeGrassi raised his hand. “God’s truth.”

“Are you sitting there telling me you never—”

“I had a serious case of E.D.,” DeGrassi admitted. “It was a bitch, let me tell you. I must have gone to a dozen doctors and shrinks, but no one had an answer.” His grin widened into a warm smile. “Fortunately, Roni cured me. Sure you don’t want a piece of this cake?”

“No, thanks. Listen, what I’m really wondering about is where Challa and the others came from. What else can you tell me?”

“Short and sweet? Their entire race was kidnapped from their homeworld by those Arra I told you about, and sold as slaves. Sometimes those sick fucks would eat the weak ones, the ones they couldn’t sell. The Ruinos would have become extinct if it hadn’t been for Jeb and Simon. Jebaral and Simolif.”

“The guy with dark hair? Or the blond one?”

“Jeb’s the dark one. Simon is the shorter blond one,” DeGrassi explained. “Anyway, when they saw their chance, Jeb and Simon led a revolt against the Arra. They managed to round up thirty-one of the remaining Ruinos and escape in a tiny ship. It took them two years to reach Earth, but by that time they were out of food and fuel. So they scattered, hoping to live out the rest of their lives in peace.” DeGrassi gave him a narrow-eyed look. “If you think Challa looks wicked with those teeth and talons, just wait until you see Jeb and Simon.”

“Challa said they were an agricultural species,” Compton said.

DeGrassi nodded. “They are, although the Arra forced them to learn how to use their claws to fight.”

A minute passed in silence as they continued eating, and Compton also digested what he’d been told. Wiping his mouth, he said, “You said you took Challa from the carnival to save her and to check her for a homing beacon?”

“Yeah. We initially went to let her know there were other Ruinos still around. That she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t until we got to the carnival that we found out she was dying. At that point our simple visit became a mission of mercy,” DeGrassi confessed. “Roni didn’t want her to die alone. She wanted Challa to be among her own kind. We knew she was dying, but we couldn’t piece together why. It wasn’t until we were bringing her back here that we found out about you.” He grinned. “I contacted the office and had them get me the number of the sheriff’s department in Cooper. I spoke to a Sheriff Barstow, and he gave me your cell phone number.”

That solved that mystery. “Call me dense, but I still don’t understand. Why do the Arra wait? You said they were still looking for them. Why not home in and pick them up now?”

DeGrassi stopped spooning out more diced fruit. “Because the Arra have decimated the Ruinos population so drastically the Ruinos are almost extinct. On the ship the Arra tried to force the Ruinos to mate, but finding a blood mate is a biological thing. It can’t be forced. So they implanted those goddamn things in each adult Ruinos’ arm, and when a blood mating takes place, the beacon goes off, notifying the Arra. They swoop down to kidnap the Ruinos and the mate, take them back to their slave ship, and force the couple to bear children.”

Compton felt the blood draining from his face. “Force the couple? You mean…”

“Yeah. Torture them.”

“Good God. So, how many Ruinos do you think are left on Earth?”

DeGrassi sighed loudly and grimaced. “Jeb said they used to have communication links between nearly a dozen of them, but most of those links have been severed. He doesn’t know why or how. They don’t know how many of the thirty-one who had been onboard the escape craft are still alive, or if there are any left at all on the Arran mothership. That’s why finding Challa is such a miracle. It’s a celebration. More so because she and you were joined.”

The deputy stood to clean up their mess. Compton rose to help.

“Did you get the implant out?”

DeGrassi shook his head. “Didn’t find one. At least, the doc couldn’t find one where the others had had theirs. We figure it was because of Challa’s age.”

“Her age?”

“Challa was born on the slave ship. She was a child when the revolt took place, and she didn’t reach adulthood until just before the escape ship landed here. We figure the Arra didn’t put the implants in them until they reached puberty. Had enough to eat? I know where Roni hides the deviled eggs.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. Appreciate it, Thom.”

“Hey.” The big man turned to face him. “I’m happy to know there’s now someone else like me, who understands what I’m going through. If you have any questions about anything, anything, just ask, okay?”

Compton hesitated. “Anything?”

DeGrassi paused, waiting.

“Uhh…other than having the usual, like wings and talons and green skin…and two clits?”

DeGrassi gave him a wide grin. “Shocked you, didn’t it?”

“Uhh, yeah. A bit,” Compton admitted, surprised he wasn’t blushing. “Is there anything else I need to know? I mean, so I won’t accidentally hurt her or anything?”

“Did you notice she doesn’t have an anus?”

Compton felt a slight shock go through him. “N-no. Haven’t gotten that far…yet. I guess a little anal play is out of the question, then?”

After chuckling, DeGrassi said, “Trust me. You’ll never miss it. By the way, did you know those evil-looking teeth retract?”

“Already noted.”

“Plus she can see in the dark. In pitch black. You can see their eyes glowing.”

“Yeah. It’s cool. And her wings? They really work?”

“They’re more like gliders,” DeGrassi explained. “She can’t flap them.”

“But they’re sensitive as hell.”

This time it was the deputy’s turn to look puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you lick them, she practically comes.”

DeGrassi’s eyebrows rose an inch. “Really?”

Compton chuckled. “Ohhh, yeah. Major erotic zone. You mean you haven’t tried it?”

“To be honest, no. Thanks for the tip. Oh, one other thing. What does Challa smell like to you?”

“Smell like? Like honeysuckle. Why?”

“Because blood mates have a unique scent to each other.”

“Challa told me that already. What does Roni…Tiron?” At DeGrassi’s nod, he continued, “What does Tiron smell like to you?”

“The sweetest damn maple syrup you ever tasted.” The deputy grinned. “You know about their ability to smell emotions, right?”

“A little, yeah.”

Compton suddenly sensed a disquiet within himself. A gentle worry from missing a beloved presence. It tickled. He started to comment on it when DeGrassi spoke first.

“Roni’s starting to realize I’m not there. That’s my cue to get back to bed before she wakes up.”

“Yeah. I feel it, too. It’s kind of…freaky. But a nice freaky.”

“See you in a few hours, then. Goodnight.” The deputy left the kitchen. A second later, his head popped back around the doorway. “Licking the wings?”

Laughing softly, Compton nodded. “And they taste exactly as you expect them to.”

“Sweet. ’Night, Compton. Thanks.”

DeGrassi disappeared again, this time for good. By the time Compton reached the doorway, the hall was empty except for the sliver of light spilling out of his bedroom. Smiling, he went to rejoin Challa.

Chapter 35

Reunion

He heard giggling. Laughter. People talking. The smell of coffee and bacon wafted through the room. The bed and the room felt strangely empty, but he knew Challa wasn’t far away. Compton barely had time to open his eyes when the bedroom door flew open and she danced into the room.

“Good morning, t’kor! I felt you starting to awaken!” She laughed, jumping on the bed and on him. She was human, and in the morning light shining through the window, she never looked more beautiful.

Challa straddled his chest and bent down to kiss him. She tasted like applesauce.

“Good morning, yourself, t’korra,” He chuckled when she finally sat back. “You’re in an especially good mood. You must be feeling better.”

“I feel wonderful! I have a blood line, and I have you.” She leaned over to whisper, “And I love you more than you’ll ever know.” She kissed him again, opening her mouth to taste him further. Allowing him to delve into her, into her moist sweetness that now sported a cold appleness. Her hands braced his face, and Compton could feel her joy trickling into him. Long moments passed as she suckled on his tongue, building the flames in his blood into a bone-afied hard-on. He started to pull her down onto the bed when his stomach chose to rumble with hunger. Challa giggled into his mouth.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen having breakfast. Hurry and get dressed so you can say your thank yous and goodbyes before they have to leave for work.”

He slid his hands over her hips and gave them a wiggle. She wasn’t sitting directly over his groin. Not yet. But a couple of inches back would put her there. Challa giggled again.

“Later, t’kor. I want you to come meet everyone properly. Please?”

Damn it. She was right. Compton had forgotten this was the middle of the week. Their hosts had jobs to go to. By the same token, he and Challa needed to think about heading back to Cooper. He groaned. “All right. But when we get back home, it’s you, me, and the J.P. Got it?”

“J.P.?”

“Justice of the Peace, Challa. The man who’ll marry us so that it looks legal on my end.” He eyed the blouse and jeans that were a bit big on her. Obviously they were borrowed. “We have a lot to talk about on our way home.”

“That’s okay.” Challa smiled, and the whole room seemed to brighten. Her dark red hair shimmered like miniature fireworks in the sunlight. “I’m looking forward to going back with you. I’m ready to begin our lives together.”

She watched him strap on his prosthetic before pulling on his jeans. When he reached for his shirt, she crawled off the bed to head for the door. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

At her comment, Compton remembered DeGrassi’s remark the night before about Ruinos not having an anus. He smiled. The idea of mapping out Challa’s alien topography was going to be an interesting challenge.

He grabbed his boots and socks, and headed for the kitchen. Reaching the doorway, he paused to take in the sight of a roomful of people already sitting around the table. He vaguely remembered everyone. When he had arrived last night at the DeGrassi home, his sole focus had been on Challa. Now he had the chance to separate who was who. Dropping his boots against the wall, he walked in. It was DeGrassi who spotted him first.

“Good morning, Compton! Have a seat.” The deputy gestured to the chair next to him.

A dark-haired man stood up at the other end of the table and extended a hand. “I’m Jebaral Morr. Jeb. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Compton stared mutely at the way the man’s warm brown eyes had gold-colored flecks swimming around in them. His examination was cut short when another man with the same build but shorter in stature also stood to shake his hand. This one was blond, and his blue eyes had greenish flecks in them. At that moment, Compton realized the unusual eyes must be a Ruinos trait.

“I’m Simolif Morr. You can call me Simon.”

The Ruinos brothers.

“How do you like your eggs?” a woman asked, getting to her feet and moving over to the stove. She was a stunning beauty, with her jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She also wore a forest ranger uniform. Like the two men, her accent gave her away.

“Uhh, I don’t care,” Compton managed.

“Good, because you’re getting them scrambled. There should be bacon still on the table. I’ll pop you some more bread in the toaster.”

A chuckle behind him diverted his attention away from her. Compton turned around to see DeGrassi sitting at the head of the table. Unlike last night, the man had on his deputy sheriff uniform, complete with badge and name tag. A holstered gun hung from the back of his chair.

“Guess I’ll get our guest of honor some coffee,” another woman seated beside Jebaral said. She was also a blonde. Strikingly cute and pert like a hometown Prom queen. She wore her long hair in a ponytail, as well. “It’s not like I haven’t done that a time or two,” she quipped as she slid out of her seat. Her wry comment got chuckles from everyone, and Compton vaguely remembered DeGrassi explaining that Hannah, Jebaral’s wife, worked as a waitress at the downtown diner.

Jeb and Hannah, Thom and Roni, Simon and… Compton glanced around.

“Something wrong?” Jebaral asked.

Compton turned to Simolif. “Where’s Sarah?”

“In Thom’s office,” Challa supplied, entering the kitchen. She took the only seat left, which happened to be next to Compton. Leaning over, she gave him a warm kiss. “I take it you’ve met the family?” she commented as she pulled back.

Compton gave her a warm smile. He continued to be amazed at the change in her since last night. Glancing around the table, he answered, “Basic introductions have been given. It’s going to take me a while, though, to get used to it all.”

Hannah reached over and squeezed his hand. “That’s to be expected. We sort of come on strong when we gather. Sorry about that, but it can’t be helped.”

“We don’t come on full-force unless we feel it’s necessary,” Jebaral added.

Compton frowned slightly. “How necessary?”

“To defend the Ruinos,” DeGrassi said, giving a nod in Challa’s direction as she sat down. “In this case, to save Challa’s life.”

Compton felt the blood rush from his face. He remembered the deputy explaining to him that once blood mates were found, the loss of one could lead to the death of the other. In the case of the Ruinos, it was almost a certainty. But since he was human, he wouldn’t suffer as debilitating a fate. Unconsciously, his other hand found her waist, and he pulled her closer to him.

“Thank the stars we were in time,” Tiron said. She brought the skillet over to the table to drop scrambled eggs onto Compton’s plate. At the sight of them, he realized how hungry he was.

“Dig in. I’ve already eaten,” Challa said and grabbed a piece of toast from the platter in the middle of the table. Compton thanked Hannah for the cup of coffee she set in front of him and began eating.

“All right! I’m done!” Tiron placed the skillet in the sink and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “The cook is now a forest ranger, and I have to get my ass over to headquarters quick, or else Folson’s going to file another report on me for being late relieving him.” She gave an exasperated sigh and went over to the table to give her husband a kiss goodbye. She followed by giving both Compton and Challa a peck on top of their heads. “Tol raha, kolli. Di marandi,” she told Challa with a smile, then hurried out of the room. There was the sound of keys jingling as the front door opened and closed with a slam.

“What did she say?” Compton asked.

Challa giggled. “She said I had good taste in mates.”

Simolif snorted as he shook his head. Getting to his feet, he picked up his bowl and coffee cup, and took them over to the sink. “We need to think about hitting the road, t’korra,” he commented. Pausing slightly, he then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll give the boss a call and let him know.” Turning around, he smiled at the rest of them still seated at the table and pulled out his cell phone from his pants pocket. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Compton watched as the man disappeared into the living room to place his call. He realized that the more he saw, the more confused he became. Of course, this was all part of their normal, day-to-day lives. But how often did one see a man talk to thin air and get an answer?

A hand on his arm drew his attention back to Challa. For several seconds he stared into her blue eyes with their purple flecks, when a bright sense of comprehension opened up inside him.

Life mates. Blood mates.

You’ll understand once you and Challa become blood mates.

“You can talk to each other mentally?” he whispered to her. “Like telepathy?”

“No. Not like telepathy. It’s a bit more emotional than that,” Challa replied.

“Don’t worry, Compton,” Hannah reassured him. “You’ll get the hang of it real quick like. Honey, I gotta run, too.”

“Same here.” Jebaral rose and gave Compton a nod. “Planning on staying another night? We’d love to get the chance to catch up with Challa on what she’s been doing since we landed.”

“I-I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it,” Compton admitted, glancing over at the woman who was giving him a pleading look. Grinning, he started to say more when someone’s cell phone jangled.

DeGrassi threw them an apologetic look as he reached into his breast pocket. “’Scuse me,” he said, glancing at the display window first. “It’s the office. DeGrassi.” The big man was immediately all business. “Yeah, George. Yeah.” He waved at Jebaral, who quickly came back to the table. “Yeah, I did. Yeah, they’re right here. Want me to bring them in with me? Yeah, they are. Okay. Will do. We’ll be leaving here in about fifteen minutes. See you at the station.”

Closing his phone, DeGrassi grimaced. “Lawson Hall is at the sheriff’s office, filing a report. He says we trespassed on carnival property and kidnapped Challa.”

“No such thing!” Hannah protested.

Challa added her own denial. “You can’t kidnap someone who goes voluntarily!”

DeGrassi raised a hand. “Hey, the man has a valid complaint. That woman you were with, she must have given my name to Hall, and apparently he tracked me here. You gotta give the man kudos for being resourceful.”

“What should we do?” Compton asked.

“What the law says we should do,” DeGrassi told him. “We go to the office and face Hall.” He turned to Challa. “The man knows you’re Ruinos, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyone else in that outfit know the truth?”

Challa shook her head. “No. Not that I’m aware of.”

“George asked me flat out if Challa was family. It’s code for Ruinos.” DeGrassi took a deep breath. “There’s probably a dozen people here in Tumbril Harbor who know the truth. Good people. Trustworthy people. Some of them have even put their lives on the line to help protect us. Challa, you’re safe here. I just wanted you to know that up front.”

“So we go in and confront Hall. Then what?” Compton wanted to know. “Challa’s an adult. She’s not being held here against her will.” He looked at the woman leaning against him. “Is there any reason why Hall would be so adamant to have you back?”

“Did you sign any kind of agreement with him?” DeGrassi added.

Challa nodded slightly. “I signed a contract.”

“But I’m willing to bet she has no idea what the contract contains or what it meant at the time,” Compton said. The others agreed.

Jebaral rubbed the back of his neck. “Somehow we need to convince Hall to let Challa go. Let her lead her own life now.” The Ruinos male looked directly at Challa. “Do you want to go back to the carnival?”

“No,” she firmly answered. Underneath the table, her hand squeezed Compton’s thigh, but he could also feel how it trembled. “My life is where Compton is, and he’s not part of the show.”

“That’s good enough for me,” DeGrassi said, scooting back in his chair and getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get over to the office and get this mess cleared up, the sooner the better. Hurry up. I’ll meet you two outside.”

“What about us?” Jebaral asked.

DeGrassi waved him off. “You and Hannah go ahead and get to work. This shouldn’t take too long, or be too complicated. Simon?”

“Yeah. I’m here.” The other Ruinos man stood in the kitchen doorway.

“You and Sarah heading out?”

Simolif nodded. “As soon as she’s finished in your office. You know how thorough she is.”

“Not a problem. Lock up when you leave, would you?” The deputy gave the man a pat on the shoulder as he walked by.

Compton hurried into the living room to pull on his socks and boots as everyone exchanged goodbyes. Five minutes later, he and Challa were following DeGrassi’s truck back into town.

Chapter 36

Confrontation

“I can tell you’re fearful,” Compton said in a soft voice. He was following the deputy as they headed back into town. In the passenger seat, Challa remained silent, although her hand crept over the console and clutched his thigh. She was trying to control her fear. Her emotional battle vibrated inside him. “What is this man holding over you? Why are you afraid to face him down and tell him you’re not going back to the carnival?”

He noticed her attention had been directed toward the thick trees lining both sides of the road. In fact, ever since DeGrassi had mentioned the fact that Ruinos loved running in the woods, Compton had been eyeing the surrounding forest with a new perspective.

Her hand squeezed his thigh again. He glanced over at her. He was trying to send her calming reassurance, but had no idea if he was succeeding. How he knew he could give her emotional support, he couldn’t explain. Neither could he pinpoint when he became aware of this gift. Ever since last night, he had felt like a human advent calendar. Every so often a new door in his psyche would open up to reveal an unknown part of himself, and of his connection to Challa.

“Challa?” He sent her an unspoken nudge along with his verbal one.

“Those years right after landing were…the worst. When Lawson found me, I was starving,” she told him in a dull monotone, as if she had disassociated herself from her confession. “He knew what I was. He understood I was a real alien. It was his idea to use my true self as one of the acts in the sideshow.”

Compton nodded, keeping silent so as not to interrupt her. A sideways glance at her saw she was looking out the windshield, but her gaze was focused from within.

“He gave me food and clothing, and a place to sleep. A place to feel safe. Pretending to be a dangerous alien girl for his sideshow was a small price to pay…until I wanted to make friends.” She paused for a moment before continuing.

“Lawson said my friends were the carnies. My family was the carnies, but he was the only person who knew I was a real alien. He made me swear not to tell anyone else, and then he threatened me if I dared to reveal the truth about myself. He told me…he said that people on this world are afraid of real aliens. He said if people knew I didn’t wear a costume, they would attack the carnival. They would find me, and drag me away, and probably put me in some sort of scientific research facility and perform all kinds of horrible experiments on me.”

She finally raised her eyes to look at him, but Compton already knew how gut-twisting the man’s threat had felt to her. “He took care of me, Compton. He protected me from those people who feared me…and they believed I was wearing a costume!”

“He put you in a cage, Challa. They put you in a real cage, and he put you in one up here.” He tapped his temple for emphasis. “He kept you hostage with threats and fear. That makes him no better than the Arra.”

“No. No, you’re wrong. Lawson isn’t anything like the Arra,” Challa told him. A wave of unimaginable fear crashed down on him. Cold and heart-stopping. Compton gasped as he fought control of the steering wheel. Bits and pieces of the horror she had witnessed and been subjected to stuck to his brain like poisonous burrs. Shaking his head, he gave her a look of pure shock. Challa nodded her head. “Lawson’s never hurt me. Not physically. He needs me to keep his carnival afloat.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your days with the carnival are over. You’re staying with me, and his threats won’t work this time,” Compton told her. Mentally steeling himself, he added, “Lawson thinks you’re one of a kind. He’s going to be surprised to discover he’s dead wrong.”

Their conversation ended as they entered the outskirts of town and stopped at a red light.

Tumbril Harbor was a relatively small town. Its main street was actually a state highway that ran through town, with half a dozen side streets crossing it perpendicularly. The town hall and jail sat at the corner of one such intersection. Challa pointed out the carnival owner’s ancient bus parked in front, across the street.

They pulled into the tiny parking lot behind the county jail and entered the offices through the back door. Compton could feel Challa emotionally holding his hand as they followed DeGrassi to the sheriff’s office. At first glance, Compton’s impression of Sheriff Klotsky was that the man was a seasoned officer. Although a bit on the heavy side, Klotsky still managed to project an aura of confidence and fairness, as well as common sense. Lawson Hall was already seated inside. “Gee. It feels like deja vu all over again,” Compton drily commented as the door was closed behind them.

Lawson Hall barely glanced at Compton as he jumped to his feet and rushed over to Challa, taking her by the shoulders. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Lawson,” she told him, staring him straight in the eye. To further make a point, she pulled his hands away from her shoulders and stepped back toward Compton. “It’s time, Lawson. It’s time to let me go. I no longer want to be with the show.”

Surprised, Hall also took a step backwards. He redirected his attention toward Compton and glared at the man. “You put her up to this, didn’t you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything,” Challa answered. “I’m in love with Compton. I’m staying with him.”

Hall frowned. It was evident by the growing redness in his face that the man was trying to control his temper. “You can’t stay with him, and you know why.” He turned to Compton. “You don’t know anything about this girl. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Compton grinned. “You mean because she’s a Ruinos?”

Hall froze. Someone could have smacked him in the face with a two-by-four, and the man would have never felt it. Compton’s grin widened.

“I’m her true blood mate, Hall, in case she’s ever told you about finding a life partner.”

Hall searched the faces of the others in the room, the sheriff and the deputy. DeGrassi gave the man a nod. “Yeah. We know about Ruinos, too. In fact, I’m married to one. Challa’s not the only one.”

“Dear God, how many are there?” the carnival owner whispered.

“Still alive? We figure around two dozen. That would definitely put them on the endangered species list,” DeGrassi said.

“You kept Challa close to the vest because she was your meal ticket. I understand that,” Compton continued. “But you knew that at some point it would all come to a halt. You knew sooner or later you would have to let her go. Because she is a Ruinos, and a real alien, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep her in the carnival forever.”

Hall appeared to wilt. “No, I couldn’t. But give me points for trying.”

Taking a step closer to the man who had watched over her for the past two years, Challa laid a hand on his chest. She wore a tender look on her face. “You protected me. You gave me food and a place to sleep. You made sure I was warm and taken care of and I thank you. But I have found a miracle here on your world. I have found my blood mate.

“Earlier, when I was so sick, it was because I was dying. It was because my body was reacting to being away from him, and I would have died if Thom and Tiron and the others hadn’t brought me here so I could be with Compton again.”

She started to say more when the door suddenly opened, and another deputy stuck his head inside. “We got problems, Sheriff.”

“Hold off,” Klotsky told him. “We’re almost finished here.”

The deputy shook his head. “This can’t wait. You have to come look at this now.” He disappeared, leaving the door open. At that moment DeGrassi’s cell phone went off . At the same time a vacant, distant look fell over his face. Almost mechanically, he answered without checking the caller I.D. first.

“What’s wrong, Roni?”

Compton felt Challa stiffen, and she instinctively backed against him, seeking his touch. DeGrassi turned to give the sheriff a warning wave of his hand.

“Get back to the house, Roni,” the deputy told his wife. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He closed the phone without saying goodbye. “Roni couldn’t get to work because six miles outside of town the road’s been blocked by at least a dozen large, full-grown trees that were pulled up by the roots and piled from one side of the road to the other. The way’s completely impassable by car.”

“Sheriff?” It was the other deputy again, peering back into the room.

“Let me guess,” Klotsky rumbled. “Roadblock?”

The man gasped. “How’d you guess?”

“Off 223?”

The deputy frowned. “No. Off 2A south. About six miles out.”

“Fully grown trees that seemed to have been pulled up by the roots?” DeGrassi added.

“Yeah.”

“Who could have done something like that?” Compton asked, just as astonished that something so unusual could have occurred twice in the area.

Instead of answering, DeGrassi and the sheriff hurried out of the office. Compton, Challa, and Hall followed them as more calls began to flood the station.

“Sheriff, we have another roadblock sighted six miles north of 2A,” the woman manning a computer console called out.

“Ditto that for 802!” another voice shouted.

Klotsky swore. “We’re being circled.”

“By someone pulling up trees?” Hall asked.

“Not someone,” DeGrassi corrected the man. “By the Arra. They’re caging us in.” He looked at others, and Compton could see the man’s terror in his eyes. “Roni smelled the Arra on the trees. She’s contacting Simon and Jeb.”

“Can’t you fight back like you’ve done before?” Compton asked as he felt Challa’s rising fear as well.

DeGrassi ran a hand over his pale face. “You don’t understand. When we fought them before, it was in the middle of the night. It’s daylight out there now. The Ruinos are locked into their human forms until sunset. They can’t change. And if they can’t change, they can’t fight.”

Giving Compton and Challa a little push toward the hallway leading back to the parking lot, he ordered, “We have to return to the house. If we’re going to have a chance against them, it’ll have to be with all of us together. But we have to hurry! There’s no telling where the Arra are landing, or how many of them there’ll be.”

“I’m staying in town to see what comes down,” Sheriff Klotsky told them. “Keep a line open, Thom!”

DeGrassi promised as they rushed back to their vehicles.

Chapter 37

Road Blocks

Compton watched DeGrassi on the phone all the way back to his house. Lawson Hall rode with the deputy.

“Challa.” He could tell when she gave him her full attention. “Tell me about the Arra. Tell me everything you know and remember. On this world, we know that the best defense is the best offense. ‘If we know our enemy, then they are ours’,” he semi-quoted.

It was amazing how easy it was to slip into his lieutenant skin. The danger factor started his adrenalin pumping, and the fear surrounding this unknown enemy brought him back to a point of clarity. Compton, the easy-going country boy from Cooper sloughed away, leaving behind the rock-hard and hewn military man bent on a single mission.

“They’re large, but they have no bodily form,” she answered.

“What do you mean, no bodily form?”

“They…they’re like water. They’re fluid. They can assume any shape they want. And they’re white.”

“What about arms and legs? How do they maneuver?”

Challa shrugged. “They don’t have arms or legs. They sort of flow over things, and around things, and through things.”

Compton got a mental image of a smokelike creature, but with more substance than smoke. “What about weapons? What kind of weapons do they have?”

“They use an adjac, which is kind of like a knife only it does more damage than a knife. And they have a paralyzer.”

“What does the paralyzer look like?”

“Round.” She formed her fingers into a circle about the size of a coffee cup. “Like a disk. It’s silver, like the adjac.”

“Any other weapons?”

“I was told there were others, but I haven’t seen them. You’ll have to talk to Tiron or Jebaral about them.”

Compton started to ask more when DeGrassi took the turnoff onto his property.

As they pulled into the short drive leading to DeGrassi’s home, they spotted the vehicles already parked. Apparently no one had been able to leave. Pulling the truck up behind DeGrassi’s, Compton told Challa, “Go inside. I’ll be right there.”

She glanced at him, knowing he was preparing himself. Preparing to fight for her and the others. Although she didn’t know how he was planning to do that, she nodded and hurried into the house.

Compton unlocked the tool box seated across the back of the cab and pulled his deer rifles from beneath the olive drab blankets folded over them. He was vaguely aware of the front door closing and someone approaching as he stuffed cartridges into his hunting vest.

“How many of those things do you have?” DeGrassi asked. Compton looked over at the man who had exchanged his uniform shirt for a plain blue t-shirt. In addition to the pistol he wore around his waist, DeGrassi had strapped on a shoulder harness, complete with a 9 mm.

“Three. Want one?”

“No, thanks, but bring them inside with you.” The deputy started to say more, but stopped when he saw Compton pull up one leg of his jeans. The artificial prosthesis gleamed like it had been freshly waxed. Compton pulled one side of the calf away to reveal a small compartment with a sling. The SIG Sauer dropped snugly into the makeshift carrier, and Compton slid the covering back into place.

“Your invention?” DeGrassi asked with amusement.

“Yeah.” Slinging the rifles over his shoulder, Compton followed the man back into the house where the others were waiting in the living room.

A woman he hadn’t met yet was sitting at one end of the couch. Simolif stood directly behind her, leading Compton to believe she was Sarah, his mate. She was speaking when they entered.

“—must have approached from the southern hemisphere, which is why we didn’t get any advance warning of their approach.” She paused as the two men came through the door.

“Give it to us again, Sarah,” Jebaral asked.

Unlike Hannah, Sarah wasn’t a striking beauty. Neither did she have a lithe figure or a beauty queen quality like the other women. But there was a sense of great inner strength and intelligence about her that immediately earned Compton’s respect. That and the fact that the others looked upon her as their group advisor.

“From what we can gather, it’s one ship, but it’s a large one. It’s keeping low so that conventional radar can’t track it,” she stated.

“Then how do you know it’s there if it’s invisible to radar?” Compton queried.

Sarah threw a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m hooked up to SETI and UNICOR at the moment. They’re bouncing signals off two weather satellites, one in the northern and one in the southern hemispheres. That’s how we finally caught sight of the Arran craft approaching from the southern tip of the planet.”

“So, rather than come down directly from above us, they came up from below?” DeGrassi clarified.

The astronomer nodded. “That’s exactly what they did.”

“And you’re certain there’s just the one ship?” Tiron asked. DeGrassi moved to stand behind her, and Compton caught the Ruinos woman leaning back against him for emotional and physical support. A moment later, Challa walked over to do the same. Compton stared at the tableau of all four couples in the living room, mate to mate.

“We’ve double-checked and triple-checked. It’s just one ship, but it’s a big one. Bigger than what I’ve tracked before,” Sarah said.

DeGrassi opened his phone and called the sheriff’s office. “This is DeGrassi. What’s the status on the roadblocks? Uh-huh. Okay. Okay. Keep me posted. Yeah, let me speak to Klotsky.” As he waited to be connected, he told them, “Every road leading to and from town has been barricaded. Yeah, George.” He turned back to the phone. “What’s the latest? Okay. I’ll let you know what we decide to do. Okay.”

“What brought the Arra back?” Hannah whispered. “I thought Dr. Fitzhugh said Challa didn’t have an implant.”

“It’s very possible it’s pure coincidence,” Simolif suggested. “They’ve already been here twice. Once when you and Jeb mated, and then for me and Sarah. It’s possible they decided to close in, hoping to capture at least one mated pair.”

“It doesn’t matter what brought them back,” DeGrassi said. “The only way that hasn’t been blocked is through the harbor. George told me the mill is sending both of its large cranes to help clear 2B south and 223.”

“The Arra will expect us to try and clear the way,” Sarah added. “They’re going to make their move before we succeed.”

Compton looked around the room. “Well, if we stay here, it won’t take much effort to round us up like cattle. If they’ve been here before, they’re definitely going to come back and check the place out. We need to leave. Now.”

“And go where?” Hannah asked.

“To the only place that’s ever been really safe for us,” Tiron softly replied. “To the one place where the Arra can’t follow us.”

DeGrassi nodded. “Let me get the rest of my gear and I’ll meet you out back.”

As one, they filed from the living room into the kitchen and out the back door. Thirty yards away the forest rose up like an enormous wall. The vegetation was dense, so thick as to be nearly impenetrable.

“Care to let me and Hannah have one of those?” a voice asked behind him. Compton turned around to see Sarah giving him a smile that made her look beautiful. “Hi, I’m Sarah,” she added, holding out a hand to shake his. Compton complied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“In spite of current circumstances?” She laughed lightly, accepting two of his extra rifles, one of which she slung over her head and shoulder.

DeGrassi soon joined them, carrying a large knapsack on his back. “Klotsky phoned again. Seems the mill’s cranes are missing.”

“Missing?” Simolif repeated.

“Probably at the bottom of the river,” Jebaral surmised.

DeGrassi nodded, and everyone turned to head into the forest.

It was not quite ten o’clock in the morning.

Chapter 38

Cabin

DeGrassi was in the lead. Compton took the rear. Between them, the others walked in single file down a barely visible trail between the trees. Deeper and deeper into the woods they hiked for several hours. When they reached a small clearing, DeGrassi called a halt.

“We’ll rest here for a few minutes. Then Roni is taking us the rest of the way.”

“Where are we going?” Challa asked.

“To a ranger cabin. In the winter it’s used whenever there’s a search for a lost hunter or camper, and the weather is too severe,” Tiron explained.

“Just exactly where are we?” Compton inquired.

DeGrassi produced a map from his knapsack and laid it on the ground. He also brought out a package of peanut butter crackers, and Hannah handed a serving to everyone. A canteen of water followed.

The map was of the Flatlock National Park Forest and the Beering Game Preserve. “Our house is here.” DeGrassi pointed to a spot at the far southeastern corner of the map. “Jeb and Hannah’s place is here.” He noted a place closer to the southwestern corner, back-to-back with the southern end of the game preserve. Pulling a pen from his duffle, he placed Xs on the four roads leading in and out of Tumbril Harbor. “I’m guesstimating six miles from town to be here, here, here, and here.”

Compton eyed the map with a trained eye. “Where are we?”

“About here.” They were deep inside the park and not far from the game preserve.

“And this cabin is where?”

“Not far. Another couple of hours in,” Tiron said. “We’ll keep parallel to the game preserve.”

“And then what?” Hannah asked. “We get to the cabin and do what? Hide out?” Her tone was part sarcasm and part fear, with a smidgen of irritation.

Jebaral reached out to run a hand over her hair. “We wait and plan what we need to do next.”

“Like what?” Sarah spoke up. “We don’t know how many of them there are.”

“Not to mention the fact that those pus balls can split into two…or three,” DeGrassi added. “No, we’re going to wait until it’s after sunset. By then we should have a plan of action.” He pulled out his cell to check the reception. “I can’t get a signal this far in.”

“Not a problem.” His wife smiled. “The cabin has a ham radio and satellite phone.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Sarah suggested.

This time Tiron took point. DeGrassi stayed right behind her, and Compton held up the caboose. Challa chose to keep close to him.

Strangely, he didn’t feel tired or weak from the hike as he’d expected. The terrain was among the roughest he’d ever encountered, but he seemed to be as full of energy as when they started. Compton eyed the woman walking in front of him. Unconsciously his gaze dropped down to her tight rear, and memories of last night came back to him. A smile crawled onto his face.

Challa turned around to see him smiling. She answered with one of her own, and it hit him. She was feeding him some of her strength. His jaw dropped slightly as he tried to absorb the enormity of what he was feeling.

In front of Challa, Simolif and Sarah walked close together. Compton watched them, and presently he saw Sarah falter slightly. The woman stumbled, but Simolif was quick to grab her by the elbow. Almost immediately she straightened up and continued on as if nothing had happened. Compton caught the grateful, loving look that passed between them.

They didn’t stop to rest again until they reached the cabin. It was made of roughly hewn logs, not constructed from a kit. Compton admired whoever had the talent to put the thing together. The structure was a thing of beauty.

DeGrassi opened the door, surprising Compton that the place wasn’t kept locked. Then again, keeping track of a key or locking code would be too ponderous. They entered the small cabin that smelled dusty and unused. There was a table constructed of more shaved logs, along with four chairs. A few folded cots leaned against the wall, and an empty stone fireplace was built into the corner. Attached to the opposite wall was a long, low shelf containing the radio band and phone. Below it was a cabinet which Compton suspected held cooking utensils and other items.

Tiron went immediately to the satellite phone and checked it. “Battery’s fresh,” she announced, looking around. “This place was reserviced within the past month to get it ready for the winter.”

“Can you call the sheriff’s office?” DeGrassi asked.

Tiron punched in the code to activate the receiver then dialed the number, handing the phone over to her husband. Everyone stopped to listen.

“Cynthia, this is DeGrassi. Yeah? Okay.” DeGrassi placed his knapsack on the floor. “Hey, George. Yeah, we’re here. What’s the latest? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Got it. Okay. We’re keeping a low profile here until sunset. I’ll call you then. All right. Okay. Later, then.” He handed the phone back to Tiron, who closed connections. “The mill has logging trucks wrapping chains around the trees and dragging them off the road. So far nothing and no one has shown up to stop them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. Klotsky says the crews are staying on it until the roads are passable.”

“Do you think the Arra will be able to find us here?” Challa asked.

“I don’t see how,” Jebaral said. “Even so, I think it would be wise if we took turns keeping watch outside.”

“I agree,” Compton said. “We can’t assume the Arra being here is a coincidence. Maybe it is, but who’s to say they didn’t track me and Challa some other way? Or maybe they have another way of keeping tabs on the Ruinos?”

Sarah nodded. “He has a point. As much as I’d like to believe the Arra showing up now like they did is merely coincidence, I think that doing so would be a dangerous thing to do. We can’t make assumptions when it comes to the Arra. Never make assumptions about the enemy.”

“Do you think they blocked the roads because they knew Compton and I were here?” Challa asked.

“We have to think that way,” Tiron said. “We can’t take anything for granted. Not when it comes to the Arra.”

“So…what’s the next step?” Hannah spoke up. “Once the sun sets and you guys can change into your Ruinos selves, what do we do then?”

“That depends on what the Arra do next,” Jebaral said.

“What do you mean?” Hannah asked.

Compton snorted. “You want to wait to see if the Arra come back to put the roadblock up again. Maybe sneak up on them while their concentration is on the rebuilding?”

DeGrassi grinned. “You’re sharp. How’d you figure that one out?”

“Easy. The map.” Compton smiled. “When you showed me the location of the cabin on the map, I noticed how close it is to one of the roadblocks. How near do you think we are?”

Tiron and DeGrassi exchanged looks before DeGrassi answered. “About two or three miles, give or take.”

Compton cocked his head. “The only thing I haven’t figured out is why you’re targeting that particular roadblock.”

“Because it’s the one closest to our homes,” Tiron answered. “It’s also the road we all take every day to go to work.”

Chapter 39

Arra

DeGrassi shot a couple of rabbits, which Hannah cooked over a fire in the fireplace. The Ruinos ate a salad of mixed greens which Tiron and Challa gathered from the woods. When they were finished, DeGrassi once again laid the map out on the table and revealed his strategy.

“Hopefully the Arra won’t be suspecting a direct assault on them while they’re rebuilding the roadblock.”

“I thought you said you had defeated them before?” Compton reminded them. “Wouldn’t they be aware by now that you’ve become a force to be reckoned with?”

Jebaral shook his head. “We destroyed the ships and all trace of their presence when we encountered them. The ones sent from the mothership never had a chance to report back. So it should be safe to assume the other Arra don’t realize we have the means and power to defeat them.”

“I think you’re wrong there,” Compton argued. “I think the fact that they sent how many squadrons to this area? Two?”

“Three, counting the two Arra who tried to take Roni and me,” DeGrassi said. “If they sent out others to pick up other Ruinos, we don’t know about them.”

“They did,” Jebaral interrupted. “Simolif and I know of at least three other Ruinos who have been picked up and returned to the Arran mothership.”

“Well, think about it,” Compton continued. “The other captures aside, if you sent three squads out and none of them came back, what would you think? The Arra aren’t stupid. They probably realize something’s happened to the others. They just don’t know what. My guess is these roadblocks are there to draw you out. To see if you’re really here like they suspect. If you show up, they may send for reinforcements.”

“But if we don’t show up, what then? Do you suggest we remain hidden until they go away?” Tiron challenged him. “What if they don’t go away? They could set up a sentinel and go away physically, but still keep an eye out for us.”

“But if you go in gung-ho and kill the Arra with this ship, what then?” Compton calmly replied. “Another ship sent, another ship that doesn’t report back. More Arra unaccounted for.”

“What we’re hoping,” Jebaral stepped in, “is that they’ll attribute all the disappearances to the inhabitants of this planet. That they’ll finally determine that these humans are too intelligent or too hostile to risk confronting.”

“Do you have a plan?” Compton asked.

DeGrassi grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I guess you could say that. They show up, we show up, and we best them.”

Compton grunted and frowned.

“It worked before,” Hannah argued.

“Against how many?” Compton looked around, challenging them. Already he could see where they could be in bigger trouble than they expected, and he had to make them understand that their so-called ‘plan’ had more holes in it than chicken wire. “Jeb, you said the Arra confronted you here when you and Hannah mated. How many of them were there?”

“Two.”

“And how many of you fought against them?”

“The three of us. Simolif and me, and Sheriff Klotsky was there providing backup in case we failed.”

Compton turned to DeGrassi. “You and Tiron fought off the Arra?”

“Yeah, but in Crescent City. There were two of them, and it was just Roni and I.”

“Even odds,” Compton noted. “How about you, Simon?”

“There were four of them. They kidnapped Jeb and Hannah, and managed to overcome me. If it weren’t for Sarah and Thom and Tiron coming to our aid—”

“And the sheriff and his deputies,” Sarah reminded him.

Simolif nodded.

“It makes sense,” Compton told them. “The Arra sent two scouts to round up two of you, but they were expecting one Ruinos and a human mate. Instead, they met up with two grown Ruinos males, plus a couple of pissed-off humans. Thom? Was it just you and Roni against the two scouts?”

“Yeah. Except I had my weapons with me.”

“Guns?”

“A pump action shotgun with double aught buckshot, along with my police issue.” He grinned and motioned to the rifle leaning against the wall.

Compton’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Did the shotgun make a dent?”

DeGrassi chuckled. “You better believe it. Turned them into lumps of soggy mayonnaise.”

“Then it was definitely your firepower that tipped the scales. Who wants to tell me about the last time the Arra showed up here in Tumbril Harbor?”

Sarah leaned forward in her chair. “Simon and I were at Jeb and Hannah’s. I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I heard something moving in the house. Simon came up behind me, and that’s when we realized the Arra were inside. They got Hannah and Jeb and were taking them away when Simon went ahead to confront them. I stayed behind to wait for Thom and Roni to arrive.”

“How many were there?”

“Four, from what we could tell.”

“Tell me how you overcame them,” Compton asked.

“Firepower and numbers,” DeGrassi said. “Sheriff Klotsky and his men backed us up when Sarah and I went to rescue the others from inside the ship.”

“Exactly.” Taking a deep breath, Compton took a couple of seconds to get his thoughts in order. “From what you’re telling me, the Arra’s actions are much like typical human actions, even if they are an alien species. The first time they came to Tumbril Harbor, they sent two scouts to pick up Jeb and Hannah. The same way they sent two scouts after you and Roni in Crescent City. Two scouts to each location to pick up one mated couple. However, the next time they approached Tumbril Harbor, they sent a stronger force since a two-man team didn’t work the first time. For the third time, the team never reported back, much less return with the Ruinos they were sent to recover.” He pressed a finger to his lips, tapping the lower one. “I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that if the Arra picked up any other Ruinos, they didn’t have the kind of difficulty they encountered with you.”

Jebaral nodded. “What we know of the other Ruinos who’ve been recaptured, as far as we know, they were taken by a two-scout team.”

“So you’re saying the reason we have a bigger ship this time is because there are more Arra coming for us?” Tiron said.

Compton grimaced. “They know there’s at least two Ruinos and their mates here. They know that they’ve already made two attempts to recover them, and failed.” He smiled. “Those chips you said you found in every Ruinos’s arm? The ones that sent out a beacon whenever they found a blood mate? You said you notified all the other Ruinos you could to tell them to get the chips removed, right?”

Jebaral nodded. “Right.”

“Then that’s your first ace. Because they aren’t getting any signals, the Arra are assuming the other Ruinos who landed here aren’t finding their mates. And because of your shape-shifting ability, you’re practically invisible to them. Well, maybe not invisible, but you blend in perfectly. Can the Arra track you when you’re human?”

The two brothers looked at each other. “We don’t know,” Simolif finally admitted.

“But you know they’re desperate to recover some of their lost cargo,” Compton continued. “Therefore they have no choice but to go after the Ruinos they know for certain have found their mates. You and Hannah, Roni and Thom, and Sarah and Simon.”

“You said it was our first ace,” Hannah said. “Is there a second ace?”

Compton laughed softly. “Of course there is. Challa and me.”

“Uhh.” Sarah held up a finger for attention. “There’s four aces in a deck, in case you forgot.”

“Yes, there is, and our third ace is the fact that we have the local sheriff and his men, not to mention some good old-fashioned firepower, to back us.” Compton smiled.

Challa reached out to lay a hand on her mate’s knee. “And your ace number four is?”

He gave her a loving smile. “Me, t’korra. A man versed in military procedure and tactics. I was a first lieutenant when I was discharged. If we play our cards right, we’ll not only defeat the Arra, but convince them it’s not worth their time or effort to ever come back here again.”

Chapter 40

Dark

Compton was on guard duty when Jebaral came outside. The sun was beginning to go down. Every now and then Compton could spot a star sparkling between the leaves and branches of the trees.

The Ruinos male walked up without making any sound, but Compton sensed him approaching until the alien stopped just behind him. “I have a question for you, Jeb,” he asked.

There was a chuckle. “How did you know it was me?”

“A good guess.” Compton glanced over his shoulder, and discovered the man was totally nude. Not even shoes. He figured clothes might hamper them when they shifted. “Have the Arra ever come after you in the daylight?”

“That we’re aware of?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Never.” Jebaral’s answer was immediate. He didn’t need to think about it. “Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking. The Arra had to have created those roadblocks during the night because they weren’t discovered until this morning. The mill has been working all day to remove the blockage, and not once have the Arra shown up to stop them. That begs the question why not?”

The cabin door opened, and Simolif emerged. Like his brother, he was naked. Compton’s eyes automatically took in both men’s flaccid penises, and a small amount of envy went through him. Even flaccid, their equipment was impressive. Were Ruinos men built that way naturally? Or was it part of their disguise?

Dusk was quickly falling. Simolif stopped beside Jebaral and waited. Waited to change.

“We’ve never known the Arra to avoid the daylight,” Jebaral said.

Compton persisted. “Of all the times you’ve been attacked, was it always at night? Were any of the attacks during the day?”

Jebaral glanced over at his older sibling. “They were at night,” he said, then directed his next question at his sibling. “Have you ever heard of or remember the Arra attacking during the day?”

Simolif shook his head. “No. Why? Is it important?”

“It could be. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and speculating. Let’s just assume…hear me out. Humor me. Let’s assume the Arra don’t want to move about in the daylight because they can’t. Maybe…I know this is going to sound crazy, but what if they’re restricted during the daylight hours like you are?”

“How restricted? In what way?” Simolif asked. “Our only restriction is that we can’t shape-shift during the daylight hours. If we’re in human form when the sun hits us, we have no choice but to remain in that form until sunset. Same for if we don’t change and we’re Ruinos at sunrise. But whether or not we’re human or Ruinos, we retain our strength and abilities.” He started to say more when Jebaral lifted his chin. Both men went silent and closed their eyes.

Compton watched in amazement as the males changed into what Challa called their “true” selves. To his surprise, it wasn’t so much a morphing as it was a “costume” change. Their body hair slid back into their skin. The skin darkened, becoming rough and scaly in spots. He saw nodules resembling armor plating rising and firming around their shoulders, arms, and legs. Not unexpectedly, their penises didn’t change size, although it appeared the genitals sprouted a third testicle.

Overall, their body size and mass didn’t change. Neither did their height. It was as though they simply slid on a green-colored Halloween body suit.

None of it was frightening until he saw the enormous claws expand and harden on their hands and feet. Numbly, Compton looked at a face that vaguely resembled human features, until he reached the eyes. Amusement twinkled within their flecked depths. Luminous flecks.

“I’m glad I got to witness the transformation,” Compton admitted. “Otherwise, I might have had a heart attack if you had approached me in a dark alley.”

Jebaral chuckled. “At least you get an idea of how strong our mates are, to accept us as we truly are, and to make love with us like this.”

The two Ruinos suddenly swiveled around as the cabin door opened. Two Ruinos females walked out into the growing twilight and walked up to join them. Hannah and Sarah followed behind them, and DeGrassi brought up the rear. Like Compton, the other three humans toted their weapons.

From the moment Challa stepped outside, Compton knew which one was her. Despite the fact that the two females looked almost identical in appearance, build, and height, he felt himself being emotionally pulled toward the one on the left.

Like their male counterparts, the females were naked. Compton gave Tiron a single once-over, noting her luscious curves and full breasts, but it was more for curiosity’s sake. He felt absolutely nothing sexual for her. No hint of interest or desire, nothing. And from a man who, in the past, treasured his collection of nudie magazines because of the wood he could get from them, it was surprising.

Looking at Challa, however, was an entirely different story. As his eyes roamed down her beautifully proportioned body, it felt like the hairs on his skin were rising from a charge of static electricity. His erection pressed uncomfortably hard against his jeans, forcing him to turn his back to them just long enough to reach down and tug on his crotch, hoping it would ease the pressure.

“You said you might have a plan when it got dark,” Simolif said, looking at him.

Compton nodded. When Jebaral had taken first shift at watching outside the cabin for sign of the Arra, the others had plied him with all the information he asked for regarding the enemy, while keeping notes in his head. He hadn’t had to do these mental exercises since his release from the military, but now he was finding himself easily getting back into the swing of the routine. In a way, it almost felt comforting, knowing his intellectual acuity was just as sharp as it had always been. When it been time for him to take watch, Compton had used the opportunity to formulate a plan of action. Or what he hoped was a viable plan.

Turning to face them full-on, Compton realized everyone was patiently waiting. And listening. Not only had they all completely accepted him without reservation, but they were placing their trust in his expertise. Which meant they were also placing their lives in his hands.

He looked up at DeGrassi. “Did you ever get hold of that sheriff you were telling me about?”

“Yeah. Klotsky said they’d meet us at the roadblock.”

“Is he bringing the light?”

“He promised to.”

“Good. All right.” Compton cleared his throat. “These are my observations and suggestions. If at any time you see a possible problem, jump in.”

A couple nodded. They all remained silent.

“I’m thinking the Arra don’t attack during daylight because it restricts them. I don’t know how, but I have a few ideas that I hope to test if we meet them at the roadblock tonight. That is, if they show up, but I’m willing to bet they will. And if I’m right, it’ll be a new weapon against them.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s get to moving. I’ll fill you in with the rest of it on our way.”

Jebaral stepped forward. It was easy to discern the two males because of their difference in height. “I’ll take the lead.” Glancing over at his wife who handled the deer rifle like an experienced hunter, he told her, “Remember to stay in the center with Sarah and Thom.”

Hannah nodded. It had already been determined that the Ruinos would lead them, as well as watch their collective backs. DeGrassi and Compton would keep in the middle with the two human females.

Each mated pair gave their spouses a warm kiss and a wish for success before taking their places. Challa met Compton in the middle before she went to take her place in the rear. He expected her kiss to be melting, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I’m keeping my word, t’korra,” he returned. “After this is over, I’m marrying you. This is for keeps.”

“Then you think we’ll succeed against the Arra?”

“I don’t think,” he told her, lightly caressing her lips with his. “I know.”

She giggled softly and went to take her place, but not before leaving him in a cloud of delicate honeysuckle scent.

Chapter 41

Reinforcements

Tiron took the easiest trails she could find, but the route was still difficult to manage. The forest was thick with wild vegetation, despite the fact that fall was approaching. When the foliage got a bit too dense to push aside, she would clear the way with swipes of her talons, which proved to be much more effective than a machete.

Compton glanced overhead where Challa leaped from treetop to treetop, gliding effortlessly on the night breeze. Every so often he would shine his flashlight skyward to see her grinning down at him from the dense foliage. Her unique eyes, as well as the eyes of the other Ruinos, were like reflective orbs. The effect was both eerie and comforting.

Once darkness had completely fallen, the human mates turned on their small flashlights, which they kept next to their weapons. The constant sway of the thin beams was enough to keep them focused, and to help them avoid any obstacles in their way.

From the time they left the cabin, talking had ceased. Tiron kept them going at a steady rate, although Compton got the impression she did so to prevent the humans from tiring out. It was a good thing, as he was sometimes finding himself struggling and breathing heavier than normal, in spite of Challa’s attempts to keep him energized. Compton cursed himself silently, knowing that less than a year ago this kind of trek wouldn’t have had any effect on him. Then again, he reminded himself that he was traversing with an artificial leg, and the prosthetic wasn’t exactly built for this kind of terrain.

They reached a small stream where Tiron called a short halt. “There’s a natural artesian spring here, so it’s safe to drink. Have some. You’ll be surprised how good it tastes.”

Challa dropped to the ground to join Compton as they all took turns cupping the cold water in their hands and drinking. Compton was especially surprised by its distinctive taste. He was having a third handful when Jebaral approached him. Shaking the drops from his fingers, Compton got to his feet, already knowing what the man was wanting. “How far are we?” he began.

Tiron stood beside her fellow Ruinos. She pointed off to her left. “Not far. A few hundred yards. We should start seeing their lights pretty soon.”

Compton nodded. “Good. All right. Here’s what I’m proposing. Ever hear of the story of the Trojan horse?” As he suspected, the Ruinos hadn’t, but Sarah, Hannah, and DeGrassi had.

“In brief, two factions were fighting. One faction was holed up inside a citadel, a fortress surrounded by high, impenetrable walls. The other faction was attacking the walls from the outside. The outside faction got the idea of creating this giant wooden horse and leaving it as a gift for the people who were inside the fortress. But the interior of the horse was hollow, and the opposing force hid inside it. When the people of the fortress opened their gates and took the horse inside, the opposing force was able to slip out and capture the city.”

Simolif frowned. “I follow the idea, but how does it relate to us?”

Waving a hand at the Ruinos to indicate their bodies, Compton said, “I’m going out on a limb here. I’m thinking the Arra wouldn’t be able to identify you if you were in your human forms and mixed among other humans.”

He caught the look that passed between the Ruinos males. “We had thought the same thing at one point,” Jebaral admitted. “So, what you’re suggesting is we use our human forms like this Trojan horse?”

“Yeah. Exactly. From what you’ve told me, in the past whenever the Arra attacked you, you were Ruinos. They attacked first, and you retaliated. Here’s what I propose. Let’s give them a taste of their own medicine. We mingle among the sheriff’s men and the loggers at the roadblock, and wait for the Arra to show up, which you know they will. When we determine how many there are, we’ll surround them. Wait for my signal before you shift back into your true selves and attack.” Compton grinned. “Think of a doughnut with the Arra in the center and the rest of us on the outside.”

“Do you really think the Arra won’t be able to differentiate the Ruinos from the other humans?” Sarah spoke up.

“I’m not betting on it,” Compton admitted. “But we’ll never know until we try. Either way, we have to turn the tables on these creatures. Make the hunter the hunted. They’ll be expecting you to fight back and so far every time you’ve done exactly as they expected. But since none of their scouts have returned or reported back, the Arra are going to send in more troops and more firepower to prevent it from happening again.”

The rest digested what he said, and Compton noticed the two males slowly nodding.

“Do you want us to change now, or when we get to the roadblock?” Simolif asked.

Compton turned to Tiron. “Can we get there without having to clear the way?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Then change now and wait for my signal to change back.”

The four Ruinos morphed quickly as Hannah pulled their clothes from the knapsack. Again, Compton eyed Tiron as she slipped on her pants over her bare ass. Like the males, she went commando, even sans bra. Her nipples were evident through the tan ranger shirt she buttoned.

He had to admit to himself that the other Ruinos woman was a stunner, but he had absolutely no interest in her. Again, he was surprised to find himself devoid of any sense of sexual feelings for her.

Sliding his gaze over to where Challa was dressing, he got a different reaction, and it took a lot of self-restraint not to go over and rub her firm curves against his growing hard-on. The sudden unexpected thought of what their honeymoon would be like didn’t help, either. Compton softly groaned, gritting his teeth against the heat building at the base of his dick.

“Let’s go,” Tiron announced and took off without waiting to see if they were ready or following. Waving Sarah to get in front of him, Compton took his place in line.

As promised, the rest of the way through the brush and grass was not as strenuous as it had been initially. They emerged near the edge of the road, a barbed wire fence and narrow culvert separating them from the shoulder. Jebaral and Simolif used their Ruinos hands to separate the strands, allowing the others to slip through.

“This way,” Tiron told them, going right. “They’re not too far up ahead.”

The two-lane gradually climbed up a small hill before reaching a wide curve in the road. Lights bounced around from behind the tree line that shielded the crews from sight.

Once they reached the curve, they could see where the road swung back to the left. The curve was partially obscured by what remained of the massive pile of trees that had been puzzle-pieced together to form an almost solid wall. So far several of the trees had been hauled off the pile, as cutting directly through the trunks to provide a temporary tunnel of sorts would be nearly impossible.

But what caught their attention was not the logjam blocking the roadway. It was the number of men working to clear it. Some were using chainsaws to remove limbs so that the stripped trunks would slide off more easily when the trucks dragged them away with chains. Other men scrambled over the trees to aid in wrapping the trees in chains.

More loggers were helping to cut the dragged trees into manageable sections and getting them loaded onto the flatbeds, which hauled them away. From the size of the wall still facing them after a day’s worth of hard labor, Compton gave a slow whistle and wondered how big the structure had been before they’d started.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. At the same time, DeGrassi strode forward, his big pump action shotgun held pointed downward, hunting style. The group waited until Sheriff Klotsky met up with them.

“So far, we haven’t seen or heard a thing from those Arra,” the big man said by way of greeting. His gaze slid over the group. “You people not going to change?”

“We’re waiting,” Jebaral told him. “Compton’s got a plan we want to try, to see if the Arra can spot us in our human forms.”

It was Simolif who gestured toward the crowd of men working below. “Sheriff, do those people know what they may be facing?”

The sheriff glanced back over his shoulder, and a big grin came over his face. “Yep. Every single man was told the truth about you Ruinos. Every man was given a detailed explanation about why you’re here, and what you’ve had to face. And every single one of them volunteered to help you in any way they can.”

“I didn’t expect to see so many,” Jebaral confessed.

Klotsky pointed back down the road, adding, “The state troopers have set up barricades a mile down the road on both sides so that we don’t have to worry about traffic.”

“It could get dangerous,” DeGrassi said. “I know we’ve been up against these things before, but we suspect there may be more of them this time, considering none of them made it back to tell the mothership what was going on.”

“And they could have more weapons,” Jebaral added.

The sheriff placed his hands on his hips. “These guys were told that, but they’re here by their own choice.” His grin widened. “They also know the consequences if any news of this leaked out to the big cities and newspapers. Hell, with technology like it is, it’s going to be hard enough to keep this kind of thing under wraps, but I think it’s doable, taking in the fact that Tumbril Harbor is so isolated. Let’s go down, and you can tell us what kind of plan you have in mind.”

Compton agreed with the rest, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, and altogether they began to head over to where a couple of men were acting as foremen, directing and shouting instructions to the rest of the crew. Suddenly, a chill more shocking than being bathed in icy cold water washed over him. At the same moment, Challa clutched his arm and whimpered. He turned to see her and everyone else staring up into the sky.

A strange cylindrical ship was hovering right above the wall of trees, poised like a hammer over a nail. Without being told, Compton knew it was the Arra.

Everyone took off running toward the site.

Chapter 42

Deception

“Blend in! Blend in!” Compton yelled over his shoulder at the Ruinos who were passing him up. His fake leg was handicapping him, slowing him down.

Challa glanced back at him, her fear like a frozen mask on her lovely face. Compton managed to wave her onward. “Go, t’korra. Protect yourself.”

She gave him a nod and put on the speed, zipping ahead with the other Ruinos as the humans lagged behind. By the time he managed to join them, the officers and loggers had closed ranks around the Ruinos.

Several minutes passed as everyone kept their necks craned to watch the glistening, dark, can-shaped ship. The saws and trucks ceased operating as attention was given to the sight overhead. No sound pierced the night as all work halted.

Compton roughly estimated the thing had to be a good three hundred yards tall and about fifty yards across. The bottom had a flat, wet-looking surface—rough and pockmarked like a badly-surfaced road. From what he could tell, the thing was either a dull gray or muddy brown color. It continued to hover overhead in eerie silence, a little over a mile overhead, lit only by the half moon.

“Ho-lee shit.”

Compton tore his eyes away to find Sarah standing a few yards away. She glanced over at him. “No way our satellites can spot that thing,” she added as she gasped for breath.

He nodded. “The ship has to have some kind of cloaking device to avoid detection.”

“Cloaking device, my ample ass,” the woman replied sarcastically. “Look at its outer hull. No wonder it was able to slip under the radar.”

“What about the troopers? Think they or anyone driving this way will spot it?”

“Don’t see how,” the sheriff remarked. “Bet that thing just blends into the darkness.”

“I agree,” Sarah said. “Its surface is perfect for keeping it disguised. People won’t be able to tell if they’re seeing more stars or a reflection of them.”

Looking around, Compton saw everyone’s gaze was glued to the ship. Thank goodness Sarah had broken its hold on him. He recognized the danger they were putting themselves in by standing around and doing nothing.

“Listen up, people! Everyone!” Putting two fingers to his mouth, he blew a shrill whistle. “Eyes here!”

The group’s attention slowly shifted over to him. Mouths remained open as they gave him his ten seconds to make his point.

“They want us to be in awe of them!” Compton yelled so he could be heard. “These creatures succeed by intimidation and fear! Go back to work! Get back to work, everyone!”

“And then what?” someone shouted.

Raising his rifle to where the barrel pointed upward, Compton answered, “You do your job, and we’ll do ours. Sheriff Klotsky, can you get your men to meet over by the van?” He had spotted the National Forest Service vehicle sitting off on the side of the road, away from the main activity.

After another glance or two skyward, everyone broke away from where they were standing and went back to what they’d been doing. The clearing away and cutting resumed, along with the grinding and whirring noise that drowned out most conversation.

Compton hurried over to the van where at least two dozen men, some park rangers, but mostly law enforcement officers, were gathering. He saw Tiron standing on the fringe, next to DeGrassi. To his surprise, he also spotted Lawson Hall bobbing around in the back of the crowd. Compton grimaced. He hadn’t thought about the man not being able to get back to his carnival. The guy was stuck here as much as anyone else, but what made him think he could come here? Compton started to ask when the sheriff spoke up first.

“Tell them what your plan is,” Klotsky said, getting the ball rolling.

Compton shrugged off the carnival owner. The man was no longer a problem. “Okay. It’s simple. We’re going to try and draw them in. If we’re lucky, get the Arra in a cluster where we can surround them.”

“What about those Ruinn—” The man, a deputy from Big Oak, stumbled.

Didn’t Thom say the piece of equipment he’d asked for would be coming from Big Oak? Compton started to answer when he saw Tiron lift her chin.

“We’re counting on the fact that the Arra can’t separate the Ruinos from humans when we’re in human form,” she answered. All eyes immediately locked onto her, and Compton saw DeGrassi move closer to his mate. At the same time he sensed Challa right behind him. She was fearful, but he could tell she trusted him explicitly to keep her safe.

One man made a casual motion with his hand. “Can these Arra shape-shift, too?”

“No,” DeGrassi replied. “But they can split into two separate beings, maybe three or more, like amoebas. They also carry weapons.”

“What kind?” another man asked.

“There is the adjac,” Tiron said. “It’s about this long.” She held her hands about nine inches apart. “It’s pointed at one end. They’ll try to stab you with it. If it hits you, it will literally boil a hole through your skin, your muscle, even your bones. And it will cause you pain like you’ve never experienced before in your life.”

Compton glanced around to see how everyone was reacting to what she was telling them. A few men looked dubious, but at least no one was laughing or cracking jokes about it.

“They have a neuron paralyzer,” Tiron continued. “It is a round disk that shoots a thin beam of light. If it hits you, you remain conscious, but you can’t move.”

The first deputy from Big Oak crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that it?”

“Don’t underestimate the enemy,” Compton broke in. “Never forget who and what you’re facing down. If you do, you’re ground meat. Sheriff, did you manage to get that UV gun like you hoped?”

“You betcha.” Klotsky threw a thumb behind him. “Big Oak sent us two of them. They’re sitting in the backseat of my cruiser.”

“Great! Go ahead and fetch them.”

The sheriff nodded and turned to leave.

“Compton!” Challa’s shout from behind him reached him an instant after that cold water rush hit him a second time.

Every eye looked upward, but Jebaral yelled, “The trees! Look to the trees!”

Compton whirled around, rifle at ready. Four asexual, formless shapes stood at the edge of the tree line. The white blobs glowed a pale greenish-white, like phosphorous.

Training took over. Dropping to a crouch, Compton turned to look behind them. Four more carbon copies stood on the other side of the road, near where the logging trucks were parked. “We have Arra to the rear!” he yelled.

A quick glance behind him saw Challa was sticking close to him. For a split second he debated whether to send her away where she might be safer, then nixed that thought. If he sent her away, there was the chance he couldn’t protect her as well. But if the Arra figured the Ruinos would keep close to their blood mates, it was a risk he was willing to take. The safest place for her was with him, and always would be. Period.

Several men lifted their guns and aimed them at the shapes. Compton quickly stood up. “Don’t fire! No no no no no! Hold your fire!” he yelled again. “Wait for my signal! Jeb!”

The Ruinos were crouched, arms out, a defensive at-ready stance, but they managed to maintain their human forms. Jebaral looked over to him. Compton realized then it was taking every effort by the Ruinos not to change into their true selves, their more powerful form with the razor claws. They had to be feeling very vulnerable at this moment, and he didn’t blame them. But they understood that to shape-shift could bring the Arra directly down upon them if the enemy wasn’t able to discern Ruinos from humans.

“Can the Arra understand our languages? Do they use any interpretation devices?”

“No. They speak to us mentally,” Jebaral answered.

“So they wouldn’t know what we’re saying?”

“No, but they can read your emotions. They feed off of your fear and anger. They know when you intend to attack them because of your fear.”

“Your fear and terror is like a potent drug to them,” Simolif added. “They get off on it.”

It made sense. When wild animals sensed fear, it often led them to attack. Another glance around the perimeter showed the Arra hadn’t moved. Compton wondered how many of them were armed.

“Try to control your fear, people!” he called out, knowing it was nearly impossible. All around, people looked panic-stricken. Compton glanced over at Jebaral and Simolif, wondering how he was going to get everyone to pay attention to him, much less obey. He was surprised when Lawson Hall stepped up to the plate.

“All right, all you pansy-assed wusses! Listen up and pay attention! The Arra aren’t after us! They don’t give a whoopee shit about humans because they consider us nonproductive cargo. To them we’re weak, and we probably taste bad on top of that. We could no more survive on the worlds where the Arra do business, which is why they won’t do us any harm if we don’t make any threatening gestures toward them.”

He gave Compton a wink before continuing. Compton realized the man probably had a lot of experience getting rowdy crowds to pay attention and follow his orders.

“Here’s the drill, so pay attention because there won’t be time to repeat it. Keep working. Keep your attention on the job. Everyone else, mingle. Look disinterested. Remember, the Arra want their lost cargo, not you. Stay clear and don’t fear them. Think of them as…as walking raw meringue.”

“What’s meringue?” a male voice piped up behind them.

Several feet away, Sarah rolled her eyes. “Calf slobber! Now, get back to work, and let the experts do their job!”

Amazingly, the loggers went back to dismantling the barrier. Several officers holstered their weapons and offered their help. Compton saw Jebaral helping with the chains, along with DeGrassi and the deputy from Big Oak. Everyone spread out, allowing the Ruinos to roam among them, while Hannah and Sarah remained close by.

When Klotsky rejoined them, he carried a portable ultraviolet light with him. The Arra never moved.

Impasse. Compton kept checking back and forth to see which side would make the first advance, or if all of them would make their move simultaneously. He would have given his fake leg to know what the Arra were thinking. Or planning.

One thing was certain. The humans weren’t running in panic, and they weren’t showing any fear. Neither were they making any threatening gestures toward the Arra. And because they weren’t, the Arra were probably wondering what kind of life forms inhabited this world that didn’t flee at the sight of them and their ship.

They were hesitating. They were thinking. They were unsure. They were stymied.

They are the enemy, and they are mi—

The Arra began to close in.

Chapter 43

First Blood

The Arra slowly drifted toward them, eight semitransparent globs of iridescent gelatin. They had no legs or feet. It was almost like watching white slugs advancing as one united front.

Compton automatically reached behind him, searching for Challa. Her hand went to his back to let him know she was there. The sense of her love warmed him to the core, and at the same time strengthened his determination.

All eyes were on the creatures that continued to move closer and closer. Compton caught Sheriff Klotsky trying to get his attention.

“Let’s see if they mind us going around them,” Klotsky suggested.

“Go for it. I’ll watch your back.”

The sheriff nodded and motioned to one of his deputies. Compton watched as the man easily walked down the road, back toward town, not stopping to look back at them until he was in the clear. The Arra continued to inch toward the crews from opposite sides.

Without any urging, the sheriff tried to follow the man when the Arra nearest him raised an armlike extension and aimed a round, silvery disk at him. Klotsky froze.

Challa grabbed the back of his shirt. “It’s a paralyzer!”

At the same time, DeGrassi yelled, “Hold off, George! Don’t move! It’s the UV ray! They think it’s a weapon! Don’t lift it! Don’t do a thing!”

“Anything in your hands they’re going to consider to be a weapon!” Compton said. “Try putting it down and seeing if they’ll let you pass!”

The Arra paused to watch as the sheriff carefully laid the UV gun on the tarmac. As he straightened, he held out his hands to show they were empty then continued down the road toward where the deputy was waiting. As expected, the creatures allowed the man to pass without further incident.

There was a moment when the machines began to power down, but several logging foremen waved for the crew to continue cutting and clearing. Yet the strain of trying to maintain a casual demeanor in front of the aliens was beginning to tell on everyone. Fear and expectation for the worst hung thick in the air. The men were reaching their breaking point. Soon, very soon, something was bound to erupt, and Compton hoped it wouldn’t be the humans.

“No!”

Compton jerked around to see Jebaral slowly walking toward the Arra, taking the same route as the sheriff and deputy. Behind him, Hannah was reaching out to him.

“Jeb! Please, no!”

The Ruinos glanced over at Compton. “We’ll never know if your theory is correct unless someone challenges it. If this doesn’t work…”

Compton nodded, understanding.

All eyes watched as Jebaral casually strolled down the road, straddling the center stripes. He ignored the UV gun as if it didn’t exist as he breached the imaginary outer ring.

Compton kept looking from Jebaral to Hannah, watching both closely and knowing how tightly strung the woman was over watching her mate make such a life-threatening move. But she stood her ground and bit her lips to keep from crying out any further. Compton’s respect and admiration for the woman rose considerably.

Keeping his hands out where the Arra could see they were empty, Jebaral acted as if having the creatures around was a common occurrence. Incredibly, the Ruinos was able to join the other two men without any problems.

One minute passed, followed by another. Without warning, the Arra resumed closing in. Compton took an involuntary step backwards and glanced over at where he knew DeGrassi was standing, when Challa’s fear solidified inside him.

An Arra on the other side of the road was holding out an instrument Compton didn’t remember having described to him. “Challa, what is that thing?”

“I don’t know!” she whispered back, and her fear grew colder inside him, until it was a block of ice completely filling the center of his being.

He looked over at where Tiron was watching the aliens with a mixture of fear and anger evident in every line of her body. Her eyes never wavered from the Arra, and a few feet away her mate DeGrassi never shifted his gaze away from her. It was almost as if he was more fearful of what his wife might do, than what the Arra would.

Compton had no idea where Simolif was. One thing, however, was rapidly becoming clear. The next move on this chessboard belonged to the Arra. Unfortunately, they were bringing in an unqualified player. That or they were changing the rules in mid-game. Neither option bode well.

“Tiron?”

The woman didn’t avert her eyes, but she responded, “What?”

“You’ve never seen that thing they’re holding, have you?”

“No.”

“But in all the time you and the others were prisoners aboard their ship, don’t you think you would have seen every kind of torturing device or weapon they had?”

Behind him, Compton sensed Challa thinking. Mentally diving back into the past, into memories she dared to dredge up only because he needed her to. From where he stood, Tiron appeared to be doing the same.

“It could be a new weapon,” Challa suggested softly.

Compton immediately slammed that idea. “I don’t get the impression that these giant glowing zits are the research and development type. No, I think this is something they’ve had all along, but just didn’t bring it out because it wasn’t needed until now. Which leads me to believe it’s not a weapon, or else they would have used it on you in the past.” He added a shrug. “Of course, I could be wrong.”

“If you don’t think it’s a weapon, what could it be?” DeGrassi asked, loud enough to be heard. “A communications device?”

“Maybe a translator? Something that would tell them what we’re saying?” Hannah ventured. Her nervousness was still very apparent by the quiver in her voice.

Compton winced. “If it is, we’re in deep shit.”

He stared at the grayish-colored contraption, looking for buttons or a trigger, anything that might give him a clue. But for all intents and purposes, it resembled an oven mitt. If there was a button, it was inside. Or maybe the creatures used some sort of mental trigger to fire it.

An oven mitt for a creature with no arms, no hands, no legs or head, or anything resembling a face, for crying out loud! The irony was almost laughable.

A movement from the corner of his eye made Compton glance over at where the deputy from Big Oak stepped down from the trailer where he’d been helping load the cut logs. “Let’s see if they’re still allowing us to walk past them,” the man said and began to make his way toward where the others were standing just outside the invisible boundary.

The deputy took two steps when the Arra swung around and pointed their new device directly at him. Several people screamed as an intensely bright bubble of light closed around the man, encasing him from head to toe inside a milky sphere.

Compton barely had time to grasp the suddenness of the attack when he noticed the deputy trying to break through the membrane. The man didn’t appear to be in any pain as the pale, translucent walls dimmed, and the rest of them could see—

A skeleton.

No, not a skeleton. The deputy’s internal bone structure. And his organs. Even the shadows of his clothing and the gun resting in its holster at his hip.

The man obviously called out, although there was no sound. Compton watched as the jaws opened and shut, the vague shadow of the tongue forming words that were muffled by the bubble. The deputy beat futilely against the inner walls.

“What the fuck is that thing?” someone from behind asked aloud.

“It looks like an x-ray machine of sorts,” someone else answered.

An x-ray machine? An x-ray bubble? Compton frowned. Why would the Arra bring along an x-ray—

“Oh, fuck!”

He never had the chance to yell out a warning when the Arra aimed the gray glove at the Big Oak deputy and fired again. This time the ray was a pale blue, and when it hit the bubble, the whole thing exploded outward in a spray of white, red, and pink fluid. Compton and the rest nearly collapsed to the ground in horror.

“Dear God, no!” It was Sarah who managed to find her voice first.

The Arra with the glove swiveled in her direction and raised it. What happened next was so quick Compton had a difficult time following it. Simolif saw the Arra aiming at his mate, and he immediately jumped in front of her to protect her. The white ray struck him, enveloping him in another opalescent bubble.

But this time the skeleton that reflected back looked nothing remotely human. And the crested ridge of bone running from forehead to the back of the skull was only the beginning.

“Simon!” Sarah reached the bubble and began beating on it. Compton could hear her fingers scrabbling for purchase, for any fold or opening that she could grab so she could tear the bubble apart. Her sobbing sounded unusually loud in the night air.

An unseen force rammed a steel post up his spine. Gasping, Compton shook the terror that was cementing his feet to the ground and cocked his rifle. “Sarah, back away!” he yelled, and aimed at the lowest edge of the bubble, opposite from where she was standing. He fired, and gasped again as the shot was absorbed as if it had hit a wall of marshmallow creme.

He never saw the yellowish ray coming from the Arran oven mitt until it poured over the bubble. Sarah screamed Simon’s name again, but instead of the bubble disintegrating, it started to fold in on itself. Closing in over Simolif, shrink-wrapping him. Turning him into a neat little package they could trundle back up into their slave ship the same way a spider spins a sac around its prey.

Compton glanced back at the Arra. At the same time a bone-freezing roar filled the night sky. He barely had time to see Jebaral morph into his true self before the Ruinos launched himself at the bubble to begin clawing at the membrane closing in around his brother. A split-second later, both Tiron and Challa changed and leaped in.

“The Arra!” someone yelled, and another gun went off.

Unbelievably, the Arra were advancing toward the bubble and the group of Ruinos around it. Except this time there weren’t nine Arra coming at them—there were sixteen.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” DeGrassi pumped his shotgun and fired again at the advancing Arra.

The creature that had started to aim at the group of Ruinos turned and aimed the x-ray mitt at him. Before it could fire, the mitt was blasted into a hundred pieces. A shrill keening sound pierced the air, and the Arra that had been holding the mitt semi-melted into a quivering heap.

DeGrassi glanced over at Compton to give him a mock salute, congratulating the ex-Army lieutenant on his marksmanship. Compton nodded then raised his shotgun again, as did DeGrassi.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Chapter 44

Attack

The loggers and other law enforcement personnel joined in, meeting the Arra head-on with saws, axes, and guns. The fierce onslaught by the humans must have stunned the aliens. The creatures halted in their advance, and their hesitation proved costly.

Compton fired his rifle at the globs, delighting in the way they exploded upon impact. It was because of their coordinated effort that the humans were able to take down the Arra with little resistance. Meanwhile, the creatures did little to defend themselves.

He saw Challa alongside Tiron as the two women launched themselves into the air and slashed at the blobs with their sharp talons. Hissing and shrieking, the pair were doing major damage just by themselves as more runny white pus oozed from the Arra, and chunks of the aliens splattered the ground.

The Arra with the round paralyzing disks were the first to begin firing, but it was already too late. Compton saw Lawson Hall get hit. The carnival owner fell to the ground, the large piece of wood the man had been wielding rolling away from him.

Compton was reloading when he caught sight of Sheriff Klotsky running for the UV lamp Compton had asked him to bring. Once the man had it in his hands, he turned it on and shone it on the Arra.

It was like watching marshmallows burn.

“You were right!” the man crowed. “Them sons of alien bitches can’t take the UV!”

There was little time to congratulate himself on getting one theory proven correct. He’d guessed that the UV rays from the sun were what kept the Ruinos from being able to shift during the day, and why the Arra only hunted the Ruinos at night. By sheer coincidence, both species needed the nighttime to change or hunt. And since ultraviolet rays bounced off the moon at a drastically lower level…

Other Arra turned toward the sheriff. They were thwarted by the ray and half a dozen men with chainsaws and axes.

It was only a short matter of time before the Arra would be defeated. That left Compton to see how the others were faring with getting Simolif out of his cocoon. Running over to where the Runios were tiring, he pulled his specially designed hunting knife out of its sheath. But stabbing at the membrane was tantamount to stabbing a block of plastic resin. The knife would only go in partway and no more. Neither could he cut through it, and the blade was as finely a honed piece of steel as could be made.

Sarah was sobbing. The Ruinos were exhausted and breathing heavily from trying to shred the material. Challa was on the ground, on her knees, trying to gather enough strength for another go at it.

Tiron turned to him with tears rolling down her cheeks. “We’ve never seen this before,” she whispered, her voice hitching.

DeGrassi joined them, and Tiron sought his embrace. “Isn’t there anything that’ll cut through that shit?” the deputy asked no one in particular.

Jebaral stopped to think. Blood ran down both of his arms from his useless attempts to free his brother. He started to reply, then simply turned and ran over to where one of the loggers was standing and holding a chainsaw. The logger backed up, momentarily startled by the Ruinos approaching to speak to him. A few seconds later, the man nodded and followed Jebaral back to the cocoon.

“Stand back, everyone,” the man ordered, raising the saw. The machine roared, and the logger slowly lowered it onto the milky mass.

An ear-splitting screech rent the air. The chainsaw bounced off the surface, nearly upsetting the logger as it flew up and backwards. The chewing blade narrowly missed Challa as Compton grabbed her to jerk her away.

“Fucking thing’s like rock!” the logger explained. He gave the group an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but a chainsaw’s not going to cut through it.”

“What will?” Challa asked. She turned to plead with Compton. “He’s dying, Compton!”

Compton stared more closely at the still figure inside the shell, then back at Sarah. He was stumped, but not defeated. Not by a long shot. He opened his mouth to say so when he was interrupted.

“We got ’em!” Sheriff Klotsky hurried over to let them know. “We got those damn aliens. Well, most of them.”

Compton and the others turned to look at him. “What do you mean most of them?” DeGrassi spoke up.

The sheriff pointed towards the woods. “One of them damn things, the one that held that glove gun? It got away from us before we could stop it.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jeb, but we were so busy trying to melt them suckers, we lost count of how many there were.”

“Oh, my God! You mean one got away?” Hannah gasped. She turned to her husband. “Jeb, it’s going to go tell the other Arra!”

Compton silently cursed himself for not following through. With his training and experience, he knew from past encounters that the enemy always tried to send away a survivor to relay the news to others. Alien species or not, the Arra behaved just like humans in too many aspects. “Well, if it’s gone to warn the others, then we better get Simon out of that damn thing, the sooner the better,” he said.

“But how?” Challa asked.

Instead of answering, Compton looked around, trying to spot something that might be a viable weapon. He noticed a sharp spike lying on the ground several yards away. Maybe the cocoon could be chipped away.

Hurrying over to grab it, he reached down to pick it up when Challa called out to him. “No, no! Don’t touch it!”

He froze. “Huh?”

Tiron detached herself from her husband’s embrace and ran over to where Compton was standing. “It’s an adjac,” she said, and bent down to retrieve it. “If you’re not careful, you could do some serious damage to yourself.”

A light bulb turned on. “Didn’t you say that thing was used to burn holes in people?” he asked her.

Tiron stared at him. “Yes.”

“Can it burn a hole in that thing?” he asked, pointing toward the cocoon. “Maybe we need Arran technology to fight Arran technology.”

She started, then rushed back to the group and handed the weapon to Jebaral. The Ruinos curled his claws around the slender tube, and with a determined look on his face, jammed the weapon as hard as he could into the bubble.

There was a spurt of steam. Sarah shrieked. “It punctured it! It punched through! Hurry! He’s dying in there!”

Jebaral continued to ram the adjac into the cocoon, creating several deep holes. DeGrassi ordered him, “Stay in one spot. Try to get all the way through to him with that thing.”

Compton looked back at where the other men were cleaning up. More than a dozen white puddles still pulsated on the ground, the last remains of the Arra. He spotted two more adjacs, and he nudged Tiron to point them out. She nodded and went to get them, but DeGrassi’s comment had gotten him thinking.

“Where are you going?” Challa stopped him.

Compton gave her a smile. “Wait here. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

She gave him a worried smile as she nodded and watched him hurry over to the sheriff.

Compton waved down Klotsky. “Hey, Sheriff! You wouldn’t happen to have a Jaws of Life in the trunk of one of those cop cars, would you?”

“Yeah! There’s one in the back of my cruiser,” Klotsky answered. “Here. I’ll come help you. Reynolds! Give us a hand, would you?” The man motioned for the deputy to join them.

“I was thinking we could stick it into that hole Jeb is chipping away and maybe pry that cocoon open,” Compton told him. He turned to wait for the sheriff and deputy to catch up with him when he heard Challa’s scream in his head. Looking over at her, he felt her terror slam into him. Instinctively, Compton dropped to the ground.

Klotsky grunted. At almost the same time, the sheriff appeared to trip over something lying on the ground. The big man fell without uttering another sound.

“Compton!” Challa screamed again. Compton started to rise to see if he could spot what terrified her, when he sensed her coming toward him. She literally jumped over him as she shrieked again, anger overriding her fear. Right behind her was Tiron.

Compton got to get to his feet to see what the two Ruinos were going after when incredible pain charged through his body. He barely had the chance to gasp when he fell heavily back onto the ground, on his side. Stunned, he tried to roll over but his body wouldn’t obey him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t call out. He was totally without any control over his body.

He couldn’t see what Challa and Tiron were fighting, but he could hear them. He could taste Challa’s anger, bright and rancid, like chewing on aluminum foil.

Someone grabbed him under the arms and hurried to pull him out of what must have been the line of fire. He swore he heard some kind of buzzing or electrical sound as he was propped against a tree. Unfortunately, he remained staring upward, unable to look down or around.

Breathing was difficult. The best he could manage was to gasp for air. In his head he sensed Challa fighting within a mist of hot blood.

Compton fought the debilitating effects of whatever was affecting him as he listened to his mate and Tiron fighting. There was a rifle blast, which told him DeGrassi had entered the fray, plus the burr of chainsaws. He wished he could see how the sheriff was faring, but there was nothing he could do but stare up into the night sky and listen to the chilling sounds he could not identify.

Somehow the lone Arra who’d escaped earlier must have gotten reinforcements and returned. Compton cursed himself again for not paying closer attention. He tried once more to move, but he still felt as if he was encased in invisible concrete. Even his throat was numb, preventing him from speaking or calling out.

Where are you, Challa? What are you fighting? How many are there? How are you managing?

A trembling sensation went through him. It was a fluttering as faint as a leaf moving in a breeze, but it was enough to let him know the effects of whatever he was suffering was beginning to lose strength. It gave him hope.

There were more screams. More Ruinos shrieks of anger. Another gunshot blast. But the sounds of fighting were gradually lessening.

There was a twinge of pain in his real leg. Compton recognized a cramp coming on in his calf. He managed to grunt, and he felt the rough seam of his jeans under his fingertips. The immobility was slow to fade, but it was fading.

Hold on, Challa. Hold on. Another minute. Hold on for another minute.

Unfortunately, he knew all too well that a lot could happen in sixty seconds.

Chapter 45

Trojan Horse

Something crawled up the side of his neck. Compton’s automatic reaction was to reach up and brush the insect away.

I can move!

Only partially, he quickly found out. Freedom was restricted to some arm and hand movement. But from his waist down, the novocaine effect of the Arra’s paralyzing ray kept him pinned down. At least the heavy weight had lifted off his chest, and he could breathe more easily.

Fortunately, having his arms back under his control was enough to allow him to roll over onto his belly and crane his neck for sign of Challa.

Compton stared in wide-eyed horror. Three Arra stood in a small clearing approximately fifty yards away. Before them was a diamond-shaped bubble—with rounded edges, glowing butter yellow in color, and sending out yellowish rays in every direction.

On the ground, from what he could see, four piles of steaming Arra were all that was left of four more Arra. But that’s not what horrified him. It was the limp, humanoid forms lying scattered across the grass and tarmac.

Challa. He sent a mental nudge, hoping he was doing it right. Hoping she would respond.

There was nothing. No answer. Not even the sense of her sweet presence filling his head or heart.

Challa!

From where he was laying he couldn’t tell which forms were human and which were Ruinos. With the Arra watching the diamond ray keeping everyone at bay, Compton didn’t dare draw attention to himself. Not when he could feel a tingling in his good leg. He was almost back to one hundred percent. Whoever had moved him to the tree had done him a favor. The tree had blocked the ray from hitting him full-on, and lying flat on the ground had kept him underneath more line of fire.

He kept his eyes focused on the Arra. At least some of his unasked questions were answered now. Sometimes slavers had to chase down single individuals, or small groups. For the Arra, the paralyzing disk sufficed. But there would also be times when the Arra would face large crowds, and that was what Compton had wondered about. How did these walking lumps of putty handle bigger numbers of recalcitrant victims?

The diamond made no sound as it hovered four feet off the ground. The rays were not direct or solid like rays of sunshine, or beams of light from a flashlight. These rays were glittery, broken mirrors varying in color and intensity. They vaguely reminded him of the reflective flecks in Challa’s eyes, only larger and broader.

Apparently the lone Arra that had escaped earlier had gone back and gotten more than reinforcements. Compton wondered what their next step would be. There was no doubt in his mind that every logger and law enforcement officer, not to mention the Ruinos, was unconscious.

The silence was agonizing.

Compton knew the Arra would take the Ruinos with them. That had been their prime mission—to retrieve their escapees. However, there remained the question of the blood mates, and Compton was willing to bet the Arra were just about to realize they may have made a mistake. They must know the blood mates were among the others lying on the ground, but which ones were they?

Compton silently uttered a challenge to the Arra. What are you going to do? Take all of us up in your ship, and slowly weed out the wrong ones? What will you do to those who aren’t their mates?

He couldn’t get the image of the exploding deputy out of his head. The horror of that moment would stay with him forever.

Two Arra moved away, leaving one behind to stay with the diamond. Compton remained silent and still, and watched as they moved among the bodies. One Arra produced what looked like a foot-long length of silver pipe. They bent over, lowering the pipe. A minute later, they straightened, lifting the pipe between them. But there was a body attached to the pipe. A Ruinos. A female.

Compton went numb with fear. Challa!

Her head lolled forward between her up-stretched arms, her body limp as it rose on invisible wires. Her hands appeared to be inside the opposite ends of the pipe. It reminded Compton of handcuffs.

A sudden gust of wind came down over the road, sending debris flying. Compton narrowed his eyes and resisted the effort to turn his head, afraid the movement would alert the Arra that his paralysis was gone.

The Arra continued to glide slowly over the ground until they reached the blacktop road. Challa remained suspended between them. The wind increased, almost gusting like a gathering storm, except this wind wasn’t being generated by Mother Nature. The distinctive smell of ozone that announced a coming rainstorm was missing

It had to be the Arran ship.

Gritting his teeth, Compton closed his eyes and willed himself into a state of preparedness. Reverting to methods the military had drilled into him. He had made too many mistakes in not trusting his training, or allowing his training to guide his common sense. He swore to himself it would not happen again.

Rule Four: Never try to guess what the enemy will do next. Go with what you know for sure.

The Arra had Challa and were taking her to their ship. He couldn’t waste time wondering or betting that the Arra would take every Ruinos, also. Whether or not they would also take the humans with them and weed them out one-by-one as they paired up blood mates was a moot issue. He had to stop them from taking Challa, but how? No telling where his rifle was.

If I get up to look for it, or to go after Challa, the rays will get me. But how do I get them to turn off that damn thing?

And do it now. The wind was kicking up, becoming more turbulent as the ship approached.

There was a groan coming from a few feet behind the Arra with the diamond. The creature moved to look. That was Compton’s cue. Reaching behind his fake knee, he lifted it until he could find the bottom of his jeans.

The Arra turned back around. The other two Arra continued to wait for whatever the ship was going to do, and weren’t paying attention to what was going on behind them. Obviously that was the diamond Arra’s job.

Slowly, agonizingly slow, his fingers crept up his fake leg, looking for the seam.

Off to his left, someone moved. It alerted the Arra with the diamond, and a sheet of golden light lanced outward, striking whoever had moved. There was a grunt and nothing more.

Compton waited until things had settled down again before he continued to reach for the gun hidden in the compartment of his prosthesis. Glancing over at where the two Arra stood with Challa, he found the small panel. It worked with a simple magnetic latch. Push on it, and it opened outward. Compton pushed it, letting his fingers slide over the small door.

The gun dropped into his hand, as welcome as an old friend. Now all he needed was another diversion. Something to attract diamond Arra’s attention so he could rescue Challa.

His whole focus was on getting her away from them. The Arra had given him no choice when they’d selected her to be the first one to take aboard. And even if they hadn’t…

He had the pistol firmly in hand and clear of his jeans. Diamond Arra remained statue still. Compton cursed the fact that there was no way to tell if the creature was looking in his direction or not.

Rule Eleven: If the enemy won’t do what you want them to do, then give them a reason to.

Everything suddenly became crystal clear. If he waited for someone else to attract the Arra’s attention, it could be too late to save Challa. Therefore…

Compton sat up, aimed at the diamond bubble, and fired four swift rounds directly into it.

The object shattered like a crystal vase. The Arra behind it squealed in pain as it was embedded with hundreds of sharp splinters.

Before the other Arra could react, Compton swung around, lined up on the silvery pipe suspended in midair, and fired. The bullet hit the pipe and ricocheted off, but he got the effect he was hoping for.

The bullet’s impact made the pipe jump out of their grasp. Challa slumped onto the road as if someone had cut her strings. Taking aim again, Compton put four slugs into the two Arra. The creatures screamed shrilly and moved backwards. Compton was about to fire a third time when he heard a loud blast. The alien in front of him lost the upper third of his body and dropped to the ground. A second ear-splitting blast followed immediately after, and the second Arra exploded like a milk-filled water balloon.

Compton stared at the Arra as they slowly oozed to the ground. The things were either dead or permanently down for the count. Either way, neither they nor that diamond bubble would ever hurt anyone again.

“Comp?”

It was DeGrassi’s voice.

“Over here!” He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to where Challa remained unmoving on the ground.

“Compton!”

Hannah. It was as though a switch had been thrown. Everyone began to rouse since the diamond bubble no longer had any control over them.

Falling to his knees, Compton gathered her up into his arms. Challa remained completely out of it. There was no use in trying to talk to her or call out her name. She couldn’t hear him, much less sense he was with her. Or even know that she was safe.

“Compton?”

Jebaral reached him. The alien was still in his Ruinos form. He laid a hand on Compton’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“That Arra that got away earlier came back with reinforcements and some kind of ray that knocked everyone out. But the tree protected me, and I managed to get to my pistol I had stashed in my prosthesis.” He looked up at the Ruinos male. “Can you help me get her out of this fucking thing?”

“It’s a burla,” Tiron hissed, coming to stand beside her mate. “We have no idea how its locking mechanism works.”

Compton glanced up. Overhead, the Arran ship remained where it was—unmoving, silent, and invisible to radar. “I wonder what they’re thinking up there? I wonder if they know what’s happening down here?”

Lawson Hall limped over to where they were gathered. The carnival owner snorted at the questions. “I don’t care if they know now, or find out later. Sooner or later those walking zits are going to have to learn that they better not fuck with humans if they know what’s good for them.”

Compton looked over at Hall, who was standing near DeGrassi and Tiron. Behind them, he could see… He started, surprise and relief sending goosebumps over his skin. “Simon! Thank, God! Simon!”

Simolif nodded weakly, held up with the help of Sarah and another man as they joined the group.

“One of the deputies got the Jaws of Life over to the bubble and managed to pry Simon out of it before it was too late,” Sheriff Klotsky explained, coming up from behind.

Simolif placed a hand on Compton’s other shoulder and nodded at the woman lying unconscious in his arms. “Can you sense her?”

Compton shook his head. “No. I can’t sense anything.”

Tiron growled softly. “Then we’ll have to wait for her to come out of it on her own.”

It was Sarah who asked, “What if they send more down here?” Like the others, her attention was divided between Challa and the ship hovering almost directly overhead.

“Good question,” DeGrassi said. “How many more do you think are up there?” He pointedly asked Jebaral, “Is that the mothership?”

Simolif scowled, shaking his head. “It’s a slaver. A slave ship. A cargo carrier. The mothership looks different.”

“We don’t know how many Arra it takes to run a slaver,” Jebaral added. He started to say more when an immense wave of air slammed down on top of them, knocking everyone to the ground. Before anyone could cry out, the Arran ship lifted upward in a straight line. It took off perpendicular to the Earth until it disappeared in the night sky.

They waited, watching, straining their ears for any sound that would signal the ship’s return. Finally, Hannah murmured, “Think they’ll be back?”

“Count on it,” DeGrassi answered.

“I don’t know,” Compton said. “Maybe they realized that we’re not a species to be trifled with. In all the years those creatures have spent roaming the universe, dealing in slave trading, don’t you think they’ve encountered a world or two where they realized it wasn’t worth the headache? Maybe…if we’re damn lucky, maybe they’ve decided to write us off. If we’re this dangerous over a handful of Ruinos, imagine what kind of shit we could deal out if there were more of us.” He gave them a weak smile as relief filtered through him. As much as he wanted to hope this was the last they’d see of the Arra, there was no way anyone could guarantee the possibility.

Hell, maybe the Arra couldn’t make the same prediction. What were the chances those creatures would change their minds, if not tomorrow, then in the near future?

“Come on.” The sheriff gestured for them to follow him. “It’ll be daylight soon. We can take a couple of the county squad cars to get you home.” Motioning toward Challa, he added, “By that time maybe we can figure out how to get that thing off of her.”

Chapter 46

Freedom

Compton rode in the backseat with Challa held tightly against his chest. She remained out of it, although her breathing was more like someone who was in a deep sleep.

“What did those fuckers do to her?” he asked Tiron, who sat next to him while DeGrassi sat in the front seat with Klotsky.

“It has to be the burla,” the female Ruinos told him. “There’s something inside that gets into the bloodstream, keeping her docile. Makes it easier for the Arra to cart away the unruly prisoners. Some Ruinos succumb completely to it. My guess is as soon as we get her out of it, she’ll come to.”

DeGrassi turned partly around in his seat and glanced back at them. “Roni, do you remember how you got out of your burla?”

“No. Sorry. All I remember is waking up with it already off. Either it wasn’t locked properly, or…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Compton glanced down again at the pipe keeping Challa trapped. He gave a huge sigh and leaned his head back against the seat. He was exhausted. The adrenalin was gone, leaving behind a dozen aches and pains from their ordeal. He could still feel the pistol poking him in his pants pocket where he’d stashed it, which reminded him…

“Hey, DeGrassi. Guess things are going to be a bit different in Tumbril Harbor, now that a lot more people know about the Ruinos.”

The deputy nodded as he watched the road. “But I have a feeling this is going to draw the community closer together. Tumbril Harbor has always been a tight-knit town.”

“Yet they accepted aliens from outer space?”

Klotsky spoke up. “Jeb and Hannah earned the town’s respect by fitting in without causing any problems. They get along with the townspeople, and they actively participate in a lot of our community activities. Same goes for Thom and Roni, although Thom grew up here. He’s considered a local, anyway.” He chuckled, then added, “Of course, every time they’re in public, Roni and Jeb are human. So is Simon when he and Sarah come to visit. I think tonight’s the first time the men have seen them as they really are.”

The car topped a hill and began its descent. Through the windshield Compton could see the sun peeking between the trees, although the moon still hovered in the sky when he glanced out the back window. He turned back around in his seat in time to see Tiron morphing into her human persona as she casually watched the passing scenery. For some reason he got the impression she had changed without having to think about it.

Actually, I’ve managed to adapt to changing into a human just as my body senses it. Sort of. I mean, I can still be asleep, but I change anyway without having to be awake to think about it.

Compton paused with his mouth open. The car slowed as it rounded a tight curve.

He could feel Challa changing. In fact, he could sense her subconscious sending a signal to her body, and slowly, more slowly than Tiron’s transformation, Challa became human. When the sunshine finally blazed through the window, it bounced off her scarlet hair with an almost ruby-red glow.

Tiron noticed the change as it happened. The woman glanced up at Compton. “How did she do that?”

“You mean, change?” Compton countered, slightly confused.

“Yeah. She’s still unconscious, right?” Tiron asked. “How did Challa change if she’s unconscious?” Her question caught the attention of her husband, who turned around in his seat to look. Compton glanced from one to the other.

“She told me once that she’d learned how to change while she sleeps. Sort of like having an internal alarm clock that goes off to let her know she needs to humanize herself before the sun rises. Why? Don’t you do the same thing?”

“No,” Tiron said. Clearly the woman was impressed by Challa’s ability. “I have to set the alarm so I don’t miss my chance.”

“Roni, have you tried seeing if you can go without using the alarm?” DeGrassi suggested.

Tiron shook her head. “No. But if Challa can do it—”

Challa groaned softly and moved in Compton’s arms. Lifting her head so that it rested on his shoulder, he waited. Presently, she opened dazed, unfocused eyes.

“Compton?”

“I’m here, honey.”

She lifted her face toward the sound of his voice. “The Arra?”

“They’re gone. Or, at least we think they’re gone.” He looked at where Tiron’s face reflected her astonishment. Curious, he asked her, “What’s the matter?”

“She’s still wearing the burla!”

“Yeah. So?”

The Ruinos woman’s eyes widened to where he could see silvery flecks dancing against gray. “That’s impossible. The burla keeps its prisoner under sedation. She shouldn’t…there’s no way she should be able to change!”

Challa shifted in Compton’s lap, and the movement sent fresh heat through his groin and belly. He watched as she noticed the odd handcuff pipe containing her arms. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Challa pulled her hands free of the device.

DeGrassi exclaimed first. “Oh, shit! How did you manage that?”

“It has to be because she’s human,” Compton guessed. “When she put on her outer skin, it must have blocked the effects of the sedative inside the tube, letting her wake up.” He could see reddish rings encircling her wrists and just below her elbows. Motioning toward them, he said, “I’m taking a stab in the dark with this, but this thing probably lost its grip on her because of her transformation.”

“We gotta get that information out to the others,” Klotsky announced. Compton saw the man watching them from the rearview mirror. “We gotta let the other Ruinos know that those Arra can’t stand ultraviolet light, and that their burla, or whatever it’s called, loses its potency if the Ruinos change their forms when they’re caught in it.”

DeGrassi nodded. “Once we tell Sarah, she can get the word out the same way she let the others know about the chip.”

“But it’s only theory. I could be wrong,” Compton reminded them.

Tiron picked up the tube and examined it more closely. “But, in theory, it worked. If there’s any truth to it, it’s one more weapon we can use against the Arra. Sarah needs to take this back to the university and have it examined. Anything we can learn about it, the better for us.”

“How many other Ruinos are you in contact with?” Compton asked.

“At last count, eight,” Tiron told him. “We’re hoping the Arra didn’t get the others.”

“T’kor?”

Compton looked down at where Challa continued to rest against him. “What?”

“Promise to fill me in later on what I missed?” Although she was awake, she remained groggy. He contributed it to the remaining sedative still in her system.

“Not a problem.”

“Speaking of,” DeGrassi said. “Are you two going to set up house back in Cooper?”

“We hadn’t discussed it, to be honest,” Compton admitted. “Challa’s home was the carnival, but she’s quitting it. I grew up in Cooper, and with my folks dead, I have the property free and clear. With my disability pay, we can live comfortably. Why?”

“I would think an old Army veteran like yourself would be thinking about how you would be able to protect yourself if the Arra did decide to return.” The deputy raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t have to remind you there’s always safety in numbers.”

“Tumbril Harbor has a lot to offer,” Tiron said. “Please keep it in mind when you two sit down to decide.”

Compton nodded and readjusted his grip on Challa, who continued to doze in his lap. DeGrassi was right. Should the Arra find him and Challa in Cooper, there was little chance he could adequately protect her. On the other hand, there was a ready-made Ruinos family already here, and with the full backing of the local law.

“We’ll discuss it as soon as Challa can stay awake for longer than two seconds,” he promised, grinning, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

His smiled broadened. He had a future now. A real future that promised to be filled with life and love. And surprises. Don’t forget the surprises. Compton held Challa closer to his heart. Which won’t be a problem. We’ll just take it one day at a time, beginning today.

Today. A new day, and their very first day of complete freedom.

Chapter 47

Imitation

“This stuff is good!” Challa pulled another piece of blue cotton candy from the roll and shoved it in her mouth, promptly licking her fingers afterwards. Her lips and tongue, as well as her fingertips, were the color of a robin’s egg.

Compton laughed. “I can’t believe in all the time you worked at the carnival that you never had any of that stuff.”

Shrugging, Challa grinned. “When you smell it day in and day out, you lose interest in it,” she told him. “But I can see now why people like it so much.” She tore off another piece.

The carnival was crowded, as was expected. Friday’s turnout had been huge, according to Lawson Hall. Tonight’s looked like it might top last night’s sales figures.

“What time is it?” Challa tilted her head to look at Compton’s watch. His arm was around her shoulder, his hand both guiding her and keeping her close.

“Should be soon. Let’s head for the tent.”

As they neared the huge sideshow tent, Compton glanced up at the banner announcing Challa, the Alien Girl. It was still Challa pictured up there, but the woman who would be performing tonight would be a real human, not Ruinos.

Lawson Hall, dressed in his straw hat and striped vest, appeared from inside the main tent and climbed up to a small podium. He spotted Compton and Challa in the crowd and gave them a conspiratorial wink before beginning his spiel.

Fortunately, Hall had slipped them a couple of tickets earlier, so they didn’t have to worry about being allowed in. Like before, they entered the main tent, which was divided into four separate sections, with the alien girl act in the last section.

They stayed in the back of the tent and observed the woman who had taken over the part. Like Challa, she was green from head to toe, but in this instance it was body paint, plus a few artificial prosthetics to make her appear inhuman. She hissed and growled, and tried to swipe at the squealing crowd with her artificial talons.

“She’s good,” Compton whispered next to Challa’s ear.

Challa nodded. “Beatrice has been wanting out off the high wire for months.”

“Her agility is a plus in imitating you.”

Challa shot him a curious look. “Do you think she really looks like me?”

“Well, you have to admit, she does do your little first act gig to a ‘T’.” He grinned at her.

The fake Challa grabbed some entrails from the bucket and began to gnaw them. She tossed her head so that blood sprayed those customers closest to the cage. There were more screams as the crowd backed away, then surged forward again to watch more closely.

Compton felt Challa’s revulsion. “Lawson wanted me to do that,” she whispered, “but I can’t stomach flesh, much less the raw kind. Or the blood.”

“It’s a good addition to the act,” he said. Challa nodded as she agreed with him.

After the show was over, they followed the crowd outside. Lawson Hall was waiting for them not far from the exit, and gestured for them to join him. “Well, what did you think?” he asked.

“She’s good.” Challa smiled. “I bet you’re happy she’s willing to do that raw meat thing. That’ll really pack the seats.”

Hall chuckled. “She’s not you, but she’s the next best thing.” The carnival owner looked over at Compton. “So you’re staying in Cooper?”

“Yeah. It’s my home, and I’m going to do my damndest to make it Challa’s.”

“What about the Arra?”

“Right now, we’re thinking that if the Arra come back, they’re going to descend over Tumbril Harbor. Cooper is just a couple of hours’ drive away in case the others need our help. Then again…” Compton smiled. “You never know what the future holds. Maybe I’ll find a buyer for the farm, and we’ll go join the others. But right now Challa and I want our alone time.”

“Our honeymoon,” Challa said, grinning. The two men laughed.

Hall held out his hand, and the men shook. “Here’s wishing you many happy years. Challa…” He held out his arms, and the Ruinos woman happily gave him a hug. “Promise me no more stealing vegetables.”

“I promise.”

Hall gave her a quick kiss to the forehead before releasing her and giving them both a little salute. Turning around, the man walked back through the exit and into the sideshow tent without another word or looking back.

At the same time, Compton draped an arm around Challa’s shoulder and led her back into the carnival midway. Tonight was the show’s first night in Tumbril Harbor. By this time Sunday the carnies would be packing up so they could head out first thing Monday morning for the next town.

After enjoying the carnival, he and Challa planned to spend the night at a quaint little motel that was run by DeGrassi’s aunt. There they could make as much noise as they wanted to without having to worry about bothering their hosts. And in the morning they would return to Cooper and Compton’s family farm.

Reaching the front entrance, they paused underneath the banner, and Compton looked back at the rides and games and food booths. “You sure there’s nothing else you want to do?” he asked her. “No one else you want to say goodbye to?”

Challa shook her head. She had gone to the carnival that morning as soon as it arrived, and packed what little she had. Before she left, the carnies threw her an impromptu combination going away party and bridal shower.

“No. I’m done. I’m ready to leave this part of my life,” she softly answered. The expression on her face was a mixture of trust, anticipation, and love.

“Yeah,” Compton said, nodding. “That’s a good way to think of it, leaving behind this part of my life. I will, too. Starting now, I will no longer look upon myself with a ‘poor me’ attitude. I am what I am, and that will never change. And since it doesn’t matter to you how I look, it no longer matters to me, either. As of right now, I am Compton Scott, soon to be the husband of Challa Doon, my blood mate.” Dropping a kiss to her forehead, in the same place where Hall had just kissed her, he added, “Let’s go check in at the motel and get to know each other a whole lot better. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful. I hear the motel has a whole forest right behind it!”

Compton heard the excitement in her voice as they strolled toward the parking lot. It triggered another memory. Something that had been said to him about Ruinos loving to go running in the woods at night.

“A forest big enough to go running in?” he half-teased.

“Yes! That’s right! How did you know?” At Challa’s wide-eyed astonishment, he laughed loudly. “Compton! Who told you Ruinos love to run? Was it Lawson? No, Tiron told you, didn’t she? Didn’t she? Compton! Come on, tell me!”

She continued to pester him all the way to the motel. It wasn’t until he got her sidetracked by more interesting and sensual things that she stopped asking. Even so, he knew that eventually he would have given in. There was nothing he would ever be able to deny her, and the thought of sharing a future with her filled him with more happiness than he ever believed possible.

But he wasn’t surprised.

After all, they were meant to be.