Shielded Heart Read online

  Low couches ran on either side of the carpeted walkway, and exotic sea creatures drifted in large tanks built into the walls. An autocannon hung from the ceiling in each of the four corners. Crimson and violet lights set the mood of the room, their relatively soft glows creating deep shadows in many places.

  Arcanthus frowned; the lights didn’t suit his current mood. With a flick of his wrist, he brought up a dozen screens—two physical, the rest holographic projections—on the desk. He navigated the menus and commands with little conscious thought.

  A moment later, the lights changed to blue; they were light-colored, with a touch of green, inside the tanks, and darkened near to black on the patches of wall in between.

  Arcanthus shook his head. “A bit much, don’t you think?”

  But he didn’t change the lights again; he shifted his attention to the screens and hacked into the Consortium’s identification database. He’d told himself it was a business matter when he started checking it daily a little over a week ago—he needed to keep informed regarding registration and immigration trends to be as effective as possible in his work. But he’d stopped several days ago, after realizing how much time he’d spent browsing the files of terran immigrants.

  He’d been unable to justify his diligent perusal of those files.

  “Drakkal is wrong,” he muttered as he entered his search criteria. “I’m not obsessed.”

  A list of the Infinite City’s most recent immigrants—all having been processed in the last three days—populated one of the screens. Seventy-eight thousand, nine hundred and forty-two names.

  Without thinking, Arcanthus sorted the list to display the terrans on top.

  “Whoops.”

  He extended a finger to undo the change, but his hand froze before touching the control. There were only eleven new terrans; what was the harm in looking a little closer? Maintaining his relaxed position, Arcanthus perused the files. Five were related to one another—a terran diplomat, her husband, and their three children. He flicked them aside, dropping their files to the bottom of the list. The next two appeared to be former soldiers, possibly here to seek work with one of the many private security firms based out of Arthos. His own soldiering days had been brief and so long ago they felt like they’d occurred in another life; he had no desire to brush up against that world again. He dismissed both files.

  Arcanthus continued his perusal, moving swiftly through three more files—a male and two females, none of whom sparked any interest in him. What had it been about the terran who’d come to him that set her apart from the rest? What about her had intrigued him?

  He reached the last terran file. The name, translated phonetically into Universal Speech, was Samantha Dawn Wilder. He opened the file.

  His eyes widened, and a tingle sparked across the qal marks on his arm, chest, shoulder, and face when the terran’s life-sized head appeared as a hologram over the desk.

  The slightly bewildered, overwhelmed expression on her face was oddly endearing. Dark, naturally arched eyebrows rested over large brown eyes with thick lashes. Long brown hair framed her delicate face, contrasting her pale skin and pink lips. She was beautiful.

  For an instant, a strange, disorienting feeling overcame him, like he knew her despite the impossibility of it. The only terran he’d ever met—Abella—hadn’t produced nearly this strong a reaction in him.

  Arcanthus raised his hand to touch Samantha’s cheek; his fingertips moved unhindered through the insubstantial hologram. He lowered his fist to the desk’s surface, his pang of disappointment swallowed by growing excitement. He hurriedly read the information in her file—no registered family in Arthos, no listed employment, and a residence in one of the city’s many Consortium-sponsored immigrant housing complexes.

  He returned his gaze to her eyes and smiled.

  “Samantha,” he said. “I think you’re the one.”

  Two

  Today was the day, Samantha decided, that she would venture out into this new, amazing world in search of work. The day she would start her new life. Nothing would stand in her way.

  Well, nothing except her apartment door.

  And her jerk of a neighbor.

  And her own damn anxiety and fear.

  Samantha clenched her fists at her sides and stared at the first of her obstacles. The metal door stared back at Sam, mocking, taunting, and tormenting her. It spoke in her mind in a cruel, familiar voice.

  You’re worthless. Weak. That’s all you’ll ever be. I protect you. You need me.

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  No, I don’t.

  Samantha drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “You can do this, Sam. Just one slap of the button and you’re done! Door open. Easy.”

  The door glared at her.

  She glared back.

  I can do this.

  Squaring her shoulders, she strode forward and swung her hand up.

  Her hand stopped mere centimeters away from the button, trembling as dread chilled her from the inside.

  What if Rakkob was waiting for her in the hall?

  Samantha carefully pressed her ear to the door, closed her eyes, and held her breath. She heard nothing from the hallway, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t home, didn’t mean he wasn’t out there. The beating of her own heart steadily loudened to fill the relative silence.

  She’d only encountered her borian neighbor—a large, powerfully built male with long, elf-like ears—once face-to-face. It had been two days ago, when she’d first moved into her unit. The same day she’d arrived on Arthos.

  Since then, Rakkob had come to her door several times. He’d attempted to coax her out, calling her little terran and trying to sound sweet, but he’d resort to pounding on the door and demanding she come out when she didn’t respond to his coaxing.

  During those times, Samantha had cowered in her bathroom, wondering why she’d come to the Infinite City. This was supposed to be a new start, a safe start, and she’d yet to feel safe here. She felt foolish to have left everything she’d known to come to this wholly alien place.

  Beneath her fear ran the knowledge that she couldn’t hide in her apartment forever. The residence had been provided by the Consortium—the group of alien species who ruled Arthos—as part of their immigration policy, and the United Terran Federation’s Emigration Assistance Initiative had arranged for a monthly credit allowance to pay for her necessities. But both were temporary—the support was guaranteed for only one year.

  The only thing Samantha currently had to her name was the bag of personal belongings she brought from Earth. The UTF’s Emigration Assistance Initiative had allowed for more, but she hadn’t owned anything else. She was completely dependent on governmental support for now; they would ensure she could buy food and clothing for herself, and she was a registered citizen, meaning she could find work—so as not to wind up homeless and destitute when the assistance ended—but all of that was only attainable outside the damned door!

  Before she could think on it any longer, she hit the button and ducked aside, flattening herself against the wall.

  The door slid open.

  After a few seconds of silence, she peered around the doorframe. The door across the hall—Rakkob’s door—was closed. She leaned out and looked up and down the corridor.

  Empty.

  Releasing a relieved breath, Samantha slipped out of her room, waved her wrist in front of the scanner on the wall—which was programmed to respond only to her Consortium-implanted identification chip—and hurried down the hallway once her door was closed.

  Her anxiety grew when she entered the elevator, which was not empty. She eased to the back, nestling herself in the corner with shoulders hunched and head bowed as aliens entered and exited on almost every one of the twenty floors on the way to ground level. Some were silent, others chatty and boisterous, and several stared at Sam curiously when they noticed her.

  She wiped her sweat-dampened palms on her pan
ts. She’d never been surrounded by such a diverse crowd. Several alien species had become commonplace on Earth—primarily volturians, azhera, vorgals, and borians—but there were more peoples on Arthos than she could count. They were all so different from each other, so different from her, that she couldn’t help but feel as though she were the strange one.

  Once the elevator finally reached the ground floor, Sam quietly followed the large group into the lobby and proceeded out onto the Undercity streets. It was by far the most unusual place she’d ever been—not that she’d traveled very far from her hometown before this—and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it. Everything was enclosed here. There was no sky, no clouds, no moon or stars, only an uneven ceiling riddled with catwalks and supports high overhead. Day and night didn’t exist here; the Undercity ran nonstop, never slowing, never quieting.

  The city above the surface was just as busy, but at least there was a sky and natural light up there. The Undercity was lit primarily by neon lights and pulsing holograms. She’d never thought she would miss the sun—her pasty complexion was a clear indicator of her lack of a relationship with it—but she had a feeling she would grow desperate for its warmth after long enough down here.

  Samantha did her best to study her surroundings, noting anything particularly unusual she could rely on as a landmark. Though her breathing had eased since leaving the tight confines of the apartment complex, her anxiety had not. It would be so easy to get lost in the crowd, so easy to vanish; there were many beings near her size or smaller, and many, many more who were big enough to make her feel like a child.

  She eventually worked her way through the flow of bodies to reach the outskirts of the crowd. The streets were lined with food stands, merchant booths, and storefronts. Standing on her toes, she strained to see over the heads and shoulders of the nearby aliens and get a better idea of her surroundings. It all seemed so big, so impossible; a dark shroud of doubt settled over her mind.

  No, I can do this. I just…just need to go talk to people.

  Sam approached a booth with shelves of footwear on display, seeking out the owner—she assumed it was the dacrethian kneeling before a volturian male, holding a pair of shoes in each of his four hands.

  Samantha cleared her throat. “Um, hello?”

  The dacrethian and the volturian continued their conversation without acknowledging her. They probably hadn’t even heard her meek voice considering all the noise from the bustling street.

  Sam brought her hands up to her middle and nervously clasped her fingers together.

  “Hello?” she said a little louder.

  Their conversation ceased. The volturian lifted his faintly glowing blue eyes to meet Samantha’s; there was only coldness in his gaze.

  The dacrethian twisted his torso to look at her and said in Universal Speech, “Yes?”

  Samantha swallowed and forced a smile. “Hi. I was…wondering if you were hiring?”

  The dacrethian’s gaze dipped to trail over her body before returning to her eyes. “No.”

  He turned back toward the volturian.

  “Nothing?” Sam asked. “I don’t mind doing tedious jobs. I—”

  “Are you here to buy?” the dacrethian asked.

  Sam frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “No. I’m look—”

  “Then leave.”

  Ouch. Guess I’m dismissed.

  The volturian, now smirking, stared at her a moment longer before looking down at the shoes the dacrethian presented to him.

  With a sigh, Samantha left the booth and returned to the crowd.

  She visited a long string of shops and booths. Despite the diversity of their wares and operators, most of the people she spoke with reacted similarly—they gave her a once-over, found her somehow lacking, and sent her away.

  Her discouragement was so deep that she was caught completely off-guard when someone said in a deep voice, “I can put you to work, terran.”

  Samantha’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned to find a bulky, shirtless vorgal with black, moving tattoos depicting various beasts looking at her.

  A swell of hopefulness spread through Sam’s chest. “Really?”

  He smiled, revealing wicked teeth that would have had to be called tusks if they were any longer, and nodded.

  Sam’s stomach sank when she looked past the vorgal; the door behind him was unmarked and dingy, with faded graffiti on its face, surrounded by similarly grungy walls. She lifted her gaze to see a holographic image projected over the doorway—a naked, dancing volturian female. As the dancer went through her motions, her body morphed, cycling through various species, all nude, all undulating to the dull beat thumping from behind the door.

  “Oh.” She returned her attention to the vorgal and offered him an uneasy smile, stepping back with her hands up and palms facing him. “No. No, that’s okay. Thank you though. That’s uh…not really the kind of work I’m looking for.”

  “A terran would make good credits. More if she takes cock.” The leering vorgal stepped toward her, reaching out with one hand. “Why don’t we see what you—”

  Samantha leapt back as though his hand was aflame. “No!”

  She slammed into something hard. It took her an instant to realize it was a person—a purple-skinned tralix who was three times as wide as her and at least a meter taller.

  Before she could utter an apology, the tralix spun toward her.

  “Watch it!” he snarled, swinging an arm as thick as a tree trunk.

  The action reminded Samantha of how someone would move when swatting at an annoying insect. Unfortunately, she was the insect in this case. His arm struck her with enough power knock her off her feet. She hit several other people on her way down, getting spun around and disoriented in the process.

  She cried out in pain as her hands and knees struck the concrete. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Shakily, she lifted her hand and turned it. Her palm was scraped, with droplets of blood oozing from the torn flesh.

  A heavy foot came down on her leg. Samantha cried out again, struggling to stand. Before she could get her footing, someone bumped into her, sending her sprawling back to the ground. Reflexively, she drew her limbs inward in a desperate attempt to protect herself; the crowd rushed around her in an endless stream, none of them caring about Sam or her predicament as they bumped, kicked, and stepped on her.

  Trampled to death on an alien planet. Not how I thought I’d go.

  A hand closed around her wrist in a powerful but not painful grip. Before she understood what was happening, the hand yanked her up. Her legs wobbled, unwilling to accept her weight, and she felt herself falling again.

  She was stopped when a solid arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close to the alien to whom it belonged.

  “This is why I avoid going out,” said a deep, smooth voice very near her ear. “So few decent people in this city.”

  Samantha threw her arms around the male, clutching tight in fear she’d get swallowed up by the crowd once more. He was slightly stooped, leaving her looking over his shoulder and unable to get a glimpse of his face. But she certainly felt his body; he was dressed in a black, silken garment that lay in a thin layer over the sculpted muscle of his torso.

  And his scent? It reminded her of sandalwood, woodsy and sweet, at once comfortingly familiar and enticingly exotic. Unable to help herself, she tightened her arms around him and inhaled, drawing in his smell to fight back the pervading stench of too many bodies crammed into too small a space.

  Her mysterious savior lifted Sam off her feet and carried her toward the edge of the crowd, shoving people aside with his free arm as he moved. He showed them as little regard as they’d shown her; as mean as it was, she took satisfaction in it. Finally, they emerged from the flow of alien bodies, and he stopped in the entryway of a wide alley.

  “Are you all right, little terran?”

  “…little terran?” Samantha blinked away the moisture in her eye
s. A strange haze had settled over her mind. Only a few seconds ago, she’d been sure she was about to die, but then she’d been picked up by strong arms and enveloped in the most delicious scent. “I…think so. Thank you. For saving me.”

  “No need for thanks.” He eased Sam onto her feet. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  Samantha took a step back to look up at her savior, and her breath hitched. Her gaze met not two eyes, but three, all a luminous yellow with slitted pupils. They were utterly alien and utterly captivating—especially the one in the center of his forehead, which was turned vertically. Dark, slashing eyebrows rested above his other two eyes, leading to a straight, sharp nose, and full, sculpted lips. His dark gray skin was contrasted by glowing yellow tattoos on his face and neck—angular, flowing lines on the left side of his face, including a crescent around his left eye. There were smaller marks on his lower lip and chin. His ears were long and pointed with identical piercings—a loop and three studs—in each one.

  Her gaze flicked up to the pair of dark, curved horns at his temples, which swept back from his face. His long black hair hung around his muscular shoulders, some of it arranged in thin braids, with a shorter portion swept to one side of his face. Her eyes dipped lower. His silken robe was reminiscent of a kimono. The garment was partially open, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest—where there were more glowing tattoos—and abdomen.

  As Sam stared at him, her heart quickened, and her pain vanished.

  Call me a sinner, because he looks like a demon and I am tempted.

  A flicker of movement called her attention lower still to find a long, thick tail swaying lazily behind him.

  “I certainly hope you like what you see,” he said, drawing her eyes back to his face. One corner of his mouth was upturned in a lopsided grin that offered a glimpse of white fangs.

  Annnnd I’m just standing here like a creep checking him out. Way to go, Sam.

  Heat flooded her cheeks and she took another step backward. “I’m so sorry!”