“Yes.”
A little thump hit inside her. “Feel this.” She put his hand on her stomach.
“That’s amazing.” Jonathan breathed against her neck. He gently rubbed her stomach, the touch soothing.
They’d been sleeping together for the past three months, and slowly Zahara had lost most of her fears. But these dreams...and I ache for his touch…more than anything. She’d been trying for a while to be intimate with Jonathan, but every time she did she’d start feeling sick inside and they’d stop.
“Jonathan?” she whispered.
“Yes?” He held her close to him.
“I want to try again…”
She heard his intake of breath.
“Don’t push it, Zahara. I can’t stand to see you hurt. I’m fine, really.”
“I know…” She turned over to be facing him, his mouth inches from hers. “I want to. Please.” She pulled his lips to her own and filled the kiss with the love she felt.
“Wow. You definitely know how to win an argument.”
“There’s more where that came from, Red.”
He gave a soft laugh at her words. “Are you sure, Zahara?” He was trembling at her passion. Without giving him another chance, she ran her hands down his chest, stroking his bare skin. He let out a pleasured gasp and kissed her again. With a bit of desperation, he removed her clothes his fingers gently touching her. He paused for a moment. “Are you alright?”
Her own hands removed anything that stood between them, pressing her body against his.
“Does that answer your question?” she said. He flipped her over onto her back, stroking every part of her body until only pleasure filled her. The world faded away. There was only them. Only this moment. Every other fear sifted away. Whatever she faced, he’d be there. Jonathan’s mouth enclosed over hers, his hands so soft against her that she wanted to cry. How did I get a man to love me like this? She thought of her parents, the love she’d always seen between them, and it finally hit her. It wasn’t that they were cowards. They couldn’t live without one another. Tingles swept through her as Jonathan pressed himself against her. She finally understood as she let out a gasp of pleasure.
“I wanted to tell you something, Zahara.”
“Yeah?” She snuggled closer to him, filled with waves of satisfaction.
“Quint is going to train me to help him rescue slaves.”
Zahara fell silent. What if he’s caught? What if he dies? The thought of losing him made her stomach clench.
“What if they…” She didn’t finish the sentence, not wanting to say the words out loud.
“I have to do something to help.”
“I know you do.” She put his hand back on her swollen stomach. “Please wait. At least until the baby is born. Please?”
He let out a soft sigh. “For you I’d do anything. I’ll wait.” He kissed her neck.
Chapter 21
A scream ricocheted off the walls. Jonathan firmly grasped Zahara’s hand in his own, praying under his breath. Mari and Lil were down below as Zahara screamed again, sweat dripping down her temple. He took a cloth and dabbed at her face.
“You’re doing great. Now PUSH!” Lil coached. Zahara’s hand tightened on his so that he winced. The girl has a grip on her.
Zahara and he had grown extremely close—he couldn’t imagine life without her. He had kept his promise and was waiting to go out with Quint to rescue humans. Jonathan pressed a kiss to Zahara’s forehead.
“Come on, sweetheart, you’re doing just fine. A little more.” Hopefully this little one comes soon, or I won’t have any feeling left in my hand.
“I see the head, come on, Zahara!” Lil said. Zahara groaned, her body shaking.
“A little more, come on,” he said. Zahara let out another scream, and Jonathan saw something slip into Lil’s hands. He’d been there when his mother had given birth to his brothers, but this was far different. A gush of water and blood came out and what looked like a bundle of black leather. Mari let out a little yelp of excitement as Lil unfurled the child and cleaned out the baby’s mouth.
“A beautiful boy.” Lil handed the small bundle back up to Zahara. Jonathan saw her face completely change from one of distress to complete love.
“Oh…wow…he’s…beautiful.” She stroked the tiny Halfsie’s face. Jonathan saw that it really didn’t matter what the baby was, he was still loved. He saw Quint standing nearby and gave the kid a smile.
“What’s his name, Zahara?” Mari asked with a gentle look at both mother and child.
“Ki.” Zahara stroked the baby’s face. “And he will help deliver us all.” She kissed the light blue face, dark hair matted to his head. Jonathan leaned down and kissed the child next.
“What do you think, Red?” she whispered.
“He’s beautiful. Just like his mother.”
Zahara smiled up at him, running her finger down the baby’s face. “He’s smart. Look at how he’s already looking around the room.”
Lil placed a blanket over the top of Zahara and Ki, her face all smiles. “You did it.” She leaned over and kissed both mother and child. “And congratulations to a proud papa.” Lil gently touched Jonathan’s arm. “Treat her and Ki well, Red.” She kissed Jonathan’s forehead.
“I will.”
Epilogue
The room was shadowed in dancing lights as Ki made his way over to his work table. Stretched out before him was a glistening black material, copper symbols intertwined into it. Muffled voices were in the background. Humans and Halfsies interacted just beyond the walls of the small room he’d sanctioned off for himself. His mind spun with the possibilities that were unfolding in front of him. Books were piled in one corner, chalk marking the wall with numbers and letters.
His webbed fingers touched the black material lovingly, his eyes glistening with hope. Tubes of liquid were on a table beside him—papers with formulas piled on top of one another.
“One day,” he whispered to the material. “One day you will save us all.”
Chapter 1
Cold laughter jerked Lend into reality. He struggled to open his eyes, but only suffocating darkness met his gaze. A series of strangled cries nearly pulled his heart from his chest.
Bree! He tried to rise, but something held him down. Air was punched from his lungs at the sound of his little sister’s torment.
"Scream, little girl," an eerie, disembodied voice said from somewhere in the darkness. Something cold brushed up against Lend’s arm—a form moving forward. A blue flame sizzled, lighting up the face of a creature. He was seven foot tall, blue-skinned, webbed fingers and toes, pointed ears, and black wings that choked the small space around them. The alien danced his flames in front of Bree’s face, and Lend could see her chest rising and falling in panic.
“Get away from her!”
The thing turned his cruel eyes on him, a maniacal smile spreading.
“Be patient, I’m coming for you next.” The creature’s wings unfolded wider, blocking out the sight of Bree’s terrified expression. He snaked a hand around her throat and lifted her two feet off the ground.
"Scream," hissed the alien’s voice with twisted pleasure.
Bree whimpered, and Lend yanked on his restraints. Why can’t I break free? His muscles burned.
“Lend,” Bree choked, her body flailing under the grip of the creature.
“Hang on!” With a bestial groan, he struggled to free himself once more. “I’m coming!”
Snap!
Lend watched in horror as the creature broke his sister’s neck. A wail escaped from his throat as she fell limp in the monster’s hand.
Tears and sweat blinded Lend as he jolted awake. It’s just a dream. Just a dream. His head turned in frantic motions about the hut, searching for his younger sister. She’s alright. His dreams had been haunted for weeks now, and every time the ancient prophesy would rise up in his mind.
There will be one. One who rises a
bove them all. A man of valor and great strength who will free us from the fall… Lend scrubbed his hands down his face, his muscles trembling from the terror he’d seen in the unconscious parts of his mind. Why do I keep having these dreams, and why do I always think of that prophesy? His mother had recited it to him over and over, until his mind dwelled on it like an imprint on his soul.
Lend forced himself out of bed, walked over to Bree, and kissed her forehead, brushing back her hair from her face. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to her. He drew in a deep breath and went out the door of the hut.
The morning air was crisp, dew cold against his bare feet, the sun casting orange streaks across the sky. Citizens won’t find us. We’ve been hidden here for years. After every nightmare, he’d always reassure himself that their village was safe. I have nothing to worry about.
Later that morning, Lend sat near the fire listening to his mother hum a gentle tune. He sharpened his knife on a stone as he sat. Bree stirred the stew, her small frame swaying to and fro to the music. Lend tried to push the disturbing dream from his mind, but it lingered there like a bad aftertaste. His father and brother were preparing the meat.
"Mom, is there anything else you need for the stew?" Lend asked.
His mother glanced up, her eyes squinting at the sun’s brilliancy. "Could you gather a few herbs from the garden?"
Lend nodded and rose, sliding his knife into its holster against his thigh. He followed the small trail, his eyes glancing at the familiar markings.
The further he went, the more an uneasy feeling grew in his gut. Lend’s eyes darted to the brush, where anything could hide if it chose to. Something feels off. Again his mind drifted to his dream.
Lend tried to shrug it off, knowing he was on edge. He stopped to gather the herbs, his mother desired, when the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Movement nearby grabbed his attention, and he pulled out his knife. His keen eyes darted to the trees on either side of him.
Suddenly, a blue bolt of lightning struck the ground beside him. Lend tumbled forward and into a hard run, his arms pumping with fury, panic spreading in his chest. A creature howled somewhere behind him.
Something crackled—a blue flame dashed the earth inches from his feet, scattering rocks. Lend dove into the forest dodging trees and swiping branches from his face.
“Get him! Round up the others!” a Citizen roared.
Oh, no. There are more of them, he thought. The forest sizzled behind him as the ballistic creatures went into a rage. Run, run, his frantic thoughts screamed. His family's faces raced through his mind as the cool air whipped around him. What if they’ve already been captured?
Lend plummeted into a deep ditch hitting the earth hard. His lungs burned as he fought to stand back up again. Something struck him back down, and a heavy foot pressed up against the side of his face. Twisting hard he managed to push the Citizen off of him, but when he turned around he faced a group of power-crazed creatures. They glared at him with deep-set scowls. Two walked forward holding heavy chains in their webbed hands.
"There's nowhere to run," rumbled a deep voice. Lend pulled out his knife and gripped the handle tightly.
“What is that?” One of the Citizens laughed.
A brown-haired Citizen lunged for him. Lend swung his knife slicing a thin trail of blood down the creature’s arm.
“This human thinks he can fight.” More laughter followed. They charged at him again. Lend swung his knife in a wide arc, dodging and pushing the creatures into each other.
“Just grab him,” one said in annoyance.
Heat hit the back of Lend’s leg. He jumped to the left as one of the Citizens flew over his shoulder slamming into the ground.
The brown-haired Citizen swore as he made a grab for Lend’s legs. Lend jumped back turning in a circle, his eyes dark with fury. Pain suddenly exploded in the back of his skull. He staggered. Another blow knocked him off his feet and onto his face; his body hit the dirt with a thud. Lend heard someone hissing as another jumped onto him, pinning him to the ground.
Lend growled trying to shake the heavy body off of him. Blue flames slammed the ground near his face crackling and exploding, scorching his cheek. The brown-haired Citizen pulled him up by his hair and shoved him against the side of a metal vehicle. He could smell burnt flesh as the webbed hands pulled his arms tight behind him. The other Citizens hissed and laughed as they shoved others from his tribe into the back of the speedcars. He tried to see if his family was among the group, but he was forced into the horde of humans and prodded to the back of the vehicle.
***
The city loomed large and beautiful; buildings scraped the bright blue sky. Streets were streaked with flames of color as speedcars blared by. Signs blinked simultaneously retching their product or business with ferocious flare. The noise was deafening. Children played, Guardians barked orders, and the city radio squawked from flashy speakers. It was pandemonium at its best.
Morthane stood in his airy office staring down over Cathrach. The streets were filled with glistening speedcars, dots of blue-skinned Citizens, and humans lapping at their masters' heels. He watched as neon signs blinked, advertising the latest gadgetry and fashion. He glanced down at his tight black pala, a strong material toga, stretched across his blue skin and toning his perfectly formed muscles. The fashion really hadn’t changed since they’d invaded Earth some thousand years ago. He got a glimpse of his own reflection in the massive window and narrowed his eyes. He was 6’7, his chest muscular and broad; his blue skin was a shade darker than most Citizens. He ran his fingers through his short black hair that was neatly styled. His jaw was strong, and his face was handsome.
Morthane’s office was spacious, too large his mate always had told him. It fit his personality. The windows filled the wall behind him so that he could look out over Cathrach anytime he wanted. He loved space, and the fifty some odd feet ceilings gave him plenty. The opposite wall was filled with black files; every human who’d ever crossed Human Co’s doors was recorded.
Morthane’s eyes zeroed in on the other side of the wall where a portrait hung of him and his family. His two children, Jania and Boron, looked down on him with wide smiles. His family. He sighed softly to himself. He was losing them; Rasa had been clear about that. He’d ignored the warnings, instead focusing on building an empire.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care for his family; he was just focused. Morthane blew out a slow breath but could still feel the tension in his muscles. What’s wrong with me? He walked over to his black marble desk, as cold air blew through the air ducts.
I like it cold, he thought.
Morthane sat down pulling up a file that had been on his mind. He touched the screen with the tip of his webbed finger and saw several human faces—he needed to get them sold. Citizens didn’t buy humans like they used to. They were so particular now about the breed, the bone structure, and health of the slave they purchased. He sent Guardians out every three to six months to track down more of the creatures and bring them into his warehouse. They were becoming more and more difficult to find. Humans were getting smarter, if that was possible. He smirked.
Rasa’s face came into his mind, her long brown hair, lean figure, and pale gray eyes pleading. She hated Human Co; she thought it was cruel.
Morthane couldn’t help but replay what he’d said to Rasa just before she’d packed up their two kids and walked out the door. She’d given him a choice: Human Co or her. He’d chosen his business. He couldn’t let it die. His father had run this business, and his father before that, and generations past. It was a part of who he was—a part of his legacy. He glanced up at the family portrait on the wall. It was almost as if he could feel the disappointment in those eyes staring down at him. He'd threatened to have her banned. A muscle jerked in his face. That was stupid, but did he really feel like he could be with a mate who hated his business?
Morthane pushed the thoughts away as an employee suddenly appeared befor
e him. He raised his hand in greeting and she bowed.
“Sir, your shipment has just arrived. There's an unruly one that needs to be tranqued,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. Morthane raised his hand in dismissal. Humans are still humans.
“Fine, do whatever is necessary. I have a lot to do today. Ship him off to the first Citizen once he’s been detained.”
The woman nodded and left him. He felt a strange pang at her departure. Maybe I’ll go detain the animal myself.
***
Morthane stood near the window of his warehouse, his eyes taking in the new batch of humans. He looked at a file in his hand scanning the page. Five hundred. A small shipment. It was always a messy business when they brought in the new ones from the wild. He watched for a moment as his Guardians corralled the women to one side and the men to the other. They’d be taken to the disinfecting chamber where they’d be washed thoroughly and given fresh palas to wear. He pressed his hand against the glass getting a good look at them.
They always cling to each other. It was something he didn’t understand. He observed one woman who was wailing, her arms outstretched toward a man on the opposite side. He found it easier to handle them when he pulled the women and men apart. You’d think he was the devil himself the way these humans carried on.
A man in the back corner grabbed his attention. This must be the man who needs to be tranqued. He was tanned, around 6’3, with long black hair that fell almost to his waist. He was leaping and dodging, avoiding any attempt to corral him. Morthane’s Guardians were warned not to damage his goods, but this display was downright stupid. The other humans were staying out of the crazy man’s path as he continued his manic attempt to avoid the Guardians. Humans. Stupid things. But they are wonderful animals once they are trained.
Morthane grew annoyed—this human was making a fool out of them. He thrust his hand on the scanner, and the door swished open.
“Morgel, I’ll handle him myself.”
The small Citizen scampered away like a rat as Morthane entered the warehouse. He saw the wild human pause and stare at him for a heartbeat. Morthane pulled out his tranque gun and aimed it at the man’s chest. A flash exploded, and in a moment the human fell convulsing to the ground. His mouth twitched into half a smile. Problem solved. Morthane slid the tranque into its holster and strolled over to the man. The other humans scattered from him like cockroaches in the light. He leaned down to take a closer look. This one looked strong; muscles bulged from his arms and legs. His skin was bare except for a homemade pair of human pants. He let out a satisfied grunt then turned and left the warehouse.