Shielded Heart Page 3
Moving slowly, he tipped his chin down and took her wrists in his hands, turning her arms so her scraped palms faced upward. “You should get these cleaned up.”
Sam glanced down. He was wearing gauntlets of some sort, made of charcoal-colored metal with segmented fingers. The undersides of his fingers were padded by a softer material, all of it strangely warm.
She trembled in his grasp; she told herself it was just the aftereffects of adrenaline overload after nearly being trampled to death—not because he was so close, not because of the way he was touching her, not because of the way he was staring at her.
Her awareness of her injuries returned in the wake of his words. In addition to the burning, stinging scrapes on her hands and knees, she was sure she’d have bruises in several places.
“I-I’ll get them taken care of. Thank you again for what you did.” She tugged on her arms.
He frowned, and his center eye remained on her face while he looked down at her palms. Though he seemed to make no effort to mask his reluctance, he released her after several seconds. “You’re new to Arthos, aren’t you?”
Nodding, Samantha dropped her hands to her sides and loosely curled her fingers. “I’ve only been here for two days and…” She glanced toward the ceaseless flow of people on the street. “I’m a bit out of my element.”
“Sometimes I think these crowds are connected by some animalistic hive mind.” He turned his head to follow her gaze. “That they sense when someone doesn’t belong and subconsciously seek to devour them.”
“That’s, um…”
“Not very comforting, I know.” He turned back to her and smiled, the expression as warm as it was hungry, as charming as it was devilish. “What is your name, little terran?”
Little terran. It was the same thing Rakkob called her, and yet it didn’t make her feel uncomfortable coming from this male.
“Samantha. Some people call me Sam. And yours?”
His lips parted, and he hesitated before replying, “Alkorin. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance”
It was a pleasure just to look at him.
His grin widened; for a horrified moment, Sam wondered if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, or if she’d said it out loud without realizing.
“I can bring you somewhere to clean up if you’d like, Samantha. I know this city can be daunting to navigate.” He eased a little closer, and his tantalizing scent filled her nose again. “It would please me to assist you.”
Tingling warmth spread through Samantha. She squeezed her fists despite the pain it caused in her battered palms. Why was she reacting this way? Why did it feel like her panties were wet just because of the way he said her name? Alkorin was gorgeous; his three eyes, horns, and tail only heightened her desire to touch him, to run her hands over his skin and feel its velvety smoothness over the hard ridges of his muscles.
And his lips… Would they be soft or firm against her own?
Samantha’s powerful attraction to him scared the hell out of her. He was an alien. She didn’t know him, and even if she did, she’d already proven herself a poor judge of character. She couldn’t let herself fall into another trap because of a charming smile. Not when she’d come here seeking independence.
“No. I…I should go,” she said. “It’s getting late, and I need to find my way back home.”
“I could walk with you, if you’d like. Just to make sure—”
“No!” She winced at the sharpness in her tone, and softened her voice when she said, “No. It’s okay. I’ll find my way back. You’ve...already troubled yourself enough. Thank you.”
“You’ve not troubled me, Samantha.” He stepped back and offered her a slight bow, the sleeves of his robe swaying as he put his arms to the sides. “Have a good evening. And try not to fall again.”
Sam smiled as she backed away. “I’ll try not to.”
She forced herself to turn around before she was tempted to linger and hurried back into the street. She kept to the outskirts of the crowd, walking close to the buildings and booths.
Don’t. Don’t look back.
Unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder.
He was gone.
Disappointment struck her harder than she’d expected it to.
Well, what did you expect? That he’d stare longingly after you?
Samantha looked down at herself, and her cheeks blazed with shame. She was a mess; her clothes were filthy, her hands torn and bloody, and her hair disheveled. She couldn’t imagine what her face looked like. Alkorin had probably been laughing at her behind his smile—laughing that someone like her had the nerve to ogle someone like him as though she stood any chance of having him.
You’re worthless.
Sam’s throat tightened, but she refused to let those terrible memories rise to the surface. That life—and James along with it—was behind her.
She crossed her arms and kept her head bowed as she continued back toward her housing unit. It was hard not to feel like a failure, but she took pride in the effort she’d put in—even if she’d nearly died because of it.
Eventually, the crowds of the busy main streets were behind her, and she found herself walking down relatively quieter side streets, many of which were lined with large residential complexes like the one she lived in. There were still people around—other pedestrians and alien beings standing or sitting around the apartment building entrances, often talking in languages that sounded strange but were totally understandable due to her translator implant.
She was a couple minutes away from her apartment complex when a voice from behind chilled her blood.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here alone?”
Three
Samantha glanced behind her to see four aliens approaching. She only knew the species of one of them—a reptilian ilthurii. They were all dressed in dark clothing with glowing, electric blue accents; and the two aliens who had hair sported the same color within it.
Sam faced forward and quickened her pace. She clamped her jaw shut and struggled to remain calm, but she was terrified.
Almost there. Almost home.
But it wasn’t really home, was it? She’d lost her real home, her only home, to time and space. Why had she thought Arthos would be safer than Earth? She’d only been here two days and had already been threatened, knocked down, nearly trampled, and now…
Her chest constricted as her fear solidified, making it difficult to breathe.
Now…
A hand clasped her upper arm and brought her to a halt.
Samantha spun and swung her fist. She hit the alien in the face, and something crunched against her knuckles.
The alien cursed as his head snapped back, dark green blood running from his nostrils to stain his bared teeth—jagged, pointed teeth that could put a shark’s to shame. He had no lips to conceal them. Raising a hand to his face, he wiped the blood away from his leathery skin.
Samantha stared in horror as he narrowed his beady eyes on her. She backpedaled quickly, turned, and ran right into a living wall—the ilthurii.
He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off her feet, and chuckled. “Looks like this pretty little thing is mine. You’re too weak for her, Jurgol.”
“I demand the first taste, Te’shek!” Jurgol snarled, grasping a fistful of her shirt.
“Let me go!” She fought Te’shek’s hold, her breaths so quick and strained that black spots danced in her vision.
No! Not this, not here! Please!
“I’m really not in the mood to kill anyone tonight, so please let go of the female and leave,” said a familiar voice.
Samantha looked toward its source to see Alkorin standing at the entrance of a dark alley. She stilled. Had he followed her? Why? And why would he place himself in danger for her? What could he hope to do against f
our people?
She thrust her questions aside; they didn’t matter. She didn’t give a damn about his reasons—she was immensely grateful that he’d followed her home.
One of the other aliens snickered.
Jurgol spat blood on the ground and tightened his grip on her shirt. “You’ll have to find your own pretty. This one is ours.”
Alkorin stepped out of the alley and walked toward the aliens at a casual pace, empty hands in full display. “While I’d hate to disappoint you, I have to make it clear that the female is under my protection. Let go and walk on.”
Te’shek snorted. “You are terrible at your job, sedhi.” He moved his scaly face closer to Sam’s, and she cringed when he extended his long, thin tongue to lick her cheek. “Next time you ought to tell your ji’tas to watch themselves in our territory.”
Alkorin stopped a few meters away from the group, his stance startlingly nonchalant. He sighed. “Last chance, my friends.”
“Fuck off, sedhi,” one of the aliens said. “This ji’tas is in our territory now.”
Raising his arms, Alkorin rolled back the sleeves of his robe, revealing the sleek, charcoal-colored metal, which was run through with yellow highlights matching his tattoos. The armor on his right forearm was bulkier, as though it were reinforced.
“Should’ve taken a moment to stretch,” Alkorin muttered as he splayed his fingers and curled them into fists. “I’m not quite as spry as I used to be.”
“Deal with him already,” Te’shek snapped.
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” Jurgol growled as he and the other two aliens stepped toward Alkorin.
The fear coiling through Samantha’s insides knotted, making her stomach churn. These aliens were all big and rough-looking—not that Alkorin was small, but he seemed so refined compared to them, like a pampered movie star facing down three street-hardened thugs.
One of the thugs lunged, and everything seemed to blast into light speed.
Sam barely saw Alkorin move as he slammed his fist into the side of the attacking alien’s face with a meaty thwap. The alien was knocked aside with the impact, spinning as he fell. Something clattered to the ground at Sam’s feet; she glanced down to see a pair of bloody, cracked teeth on the concrete.
Jurgol took a swing. Alkorin blocked the blow with his forearm. Sam heard bone crack before the alien yowled in pain. Alkorin twisted his hips and kneed the alien in the gut, the sides of his robe fluttering apart to reveal what appeared to be a thigh-high armored boot on his leg.
Eyes bulging, Jurgol doubled over and crumpled to the ground.
Te’shek threw Sam aside. She cried out as her hip took the brunt of her heavy landing. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on her elbows and watched the reptilian alien charge toward Alkorin.
The ilthurii and the other alien still on his feet drew weapons from their coats; at the touch of a button, pulsing energy blades formed from the hilts in their hands. Alkorin backed away, dodging their swings as both aliens attacked simultaneously.
“I said I didn’t want to kill anyone.” Alkorin raised his right arm as one of the blades sped toward him in a downward arc. The bulky armor piece on his forearm lit up, and a round, segmented shield formed in the air above it, comprised of a translucent yellow material; it took Sam a moment to realize the seemingly crystalline substance was hardlight.
The energy sword struck the shield with a flash. Alkorin deflected it to his right, twisted his arm to grab the alien’s extended wrist, and hammered his left fist into the alien’s elbow. The joint snapped inward, bending the alien’s arm in the wrong direction.
The alien dropped his weapon and stumbled aside. He grasped his broken arm with his other hand and screamed in pain, dropping to the ground.
Te’shek pressed his attack, swinging wildly. Alkorin danced backward, swaying to avoid the sword, and swept his tail forward between his legs. It wrapped around the ilthurii’s ankle and pulled.
As his leg was lifted high by Alkorin’s tail, the ilthurii threw out his arms and fought for balance, but his struggle was in vain; he crashed onto his back. Before he could recover, Alkorin swung his right arm. The shield darted forward and struck Te’shek in the face, knocking his head back against the concrete.
The ilthurii went limp.
Releasing Te’shek’s leg, Alkorin straightened. The shield dissipated, and he rolled his sleeves down. His third eye fell upon Sam before he turned toward her fully. She stared in stunned silence as he hurried over to her.
He crouched in front of her and offered a hand. “Are you all right, Samantha?”
She glanced at the aliens; two were unmoving, while the other two were on the ground, writhing and groaning in pain. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in Alkorin’s and looked up at him. “You…followed me?”
As he rose, he drew her upright in a smooth, effortless motion. “I did.”
Sam searched his face, meeting his third eye briefly. “Why?”
Alkorin held her gaze—and her hand. “I saw them tailing you. This city isn’t the safest place for your kind, little terran. You’re considered an exotic race, so I assumed their interest in you was neither passing nor innocent.”
Something in his gaze suggested that his interest in her wasn’t passing or innocent, either, and part of her thrilled in that. Despite that thrill, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“If it’s so unsafe, then why…why would the UTF pay to send me here?”
He shrugged. “Who can guess at the motives of governmental organizations?” His gaze dipped, roving over her from head to toe. “Now answer honestly—are you hurt?”
Sam tugged her hand free from his. “Just a few more scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious…thanks to you.”
He lifted his now empty hand and swept back a few strands of his straight, black hair, tucking them behind his pointed ear. “As understandably reluctant as you must be to trust anyone in Arthos right now, I insist on walking you home. Your day has been difficult, I imagine, and I’d like to spare you further terrible experiences. This city isn’t all bad, but it seems you’ve stumbled into a lot of it, anyway.”
Samantha looked at the ground; her hair fell into her face, shielding the tears welling in her eyes. She tugged her sleeves down to cover her wounded palms and curled her fingers into the fabric.
This city isn’t all bad.
Alkorin was the first good she’d experienced in the Infinite City, and it wasn’t quite enough to change how weak, defeated, and miserable she felt. Her entire body felt like one big bruise; that was a sadly familiar sensation, one she’d hoped never to have again. She wished she could just disappear, wished she could leave all this suffering behind.
Even if she couldn’t bring herself to believe there was more good to be found out there, Alkorin was right about one thing—she didn’t trust anyone here. She had a neighbor who wanted to do questionable things to her, she had been snubbed, looked down upon, and nearly killed. And then there was whatever these thugs had wanted to do—she didn’t want to even spend the mental energy to speculate.
Alkorin was it; a single shining beacon of kindness in the vast darkness.
He’d saved her twice in a single evening—twice in an hour. Either time, he could’ve easily walked away, could’ve decided she wasn’t worth the effort and just walked on. But, despite the risk to himself, he’d chosen to help her.
Even if he hadn’t saved her twice, she would’ve found herself wanting to trust him—he had that smooth, friendly demeanor, and a casually arrogant air that was surprisingly disarming. She felt safe standing here with him. And, if he hadn’t been there for her today…
It was confirmation of her weakness, of just how ill-prepared she was for life in Arthos. She’d come here with nothing and no one; how could she have thought she could survive on her own? How could she have thought she’d be safe? She couldn’t even leave her apartment without psyching herself up.
Samantha sniffled loudly. Tears streaked down
her cheeks and fell to the concrete beneath her feet.
Through the curtain of her hair, she saw Alkorin lift his hands to waist level and hesitate, fingers partly bent. She couldn’t blame him—she was a mess, and she’d have been hesitant in his position, too. This was the moment when he’d lower his hands, back away, and leave her alone and crying in the middle of an alien street. That’s how most people back on Earth had acted—like they couldn’t see her bruises, her black eyes, her split lips. They just turned up their noses and walked on like she had been the bad one. Like she’d somehow asked for what she received.
No one ever wanted to get involved.
She drew in a shuddering breath when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, cradling the back of her head with one of his hands. Her cheek settled against his warm chest, and her tears flowed over his muscled torso and onto his silken robe. Alkorin didn’t seem to care.
“You’re all right, Samantha,” he said, caressing her name with his voice. “I have you.”
Samantha squeezed her eyes shut, slipped her arms around his waist, and slid her hands up his back, clutching him as though he were her lifeline. Fresh, hot tears spilled down her face.
When was the last time someone had held her and told her everything would be okay? Her father had died five years ago, but he’d always had a hard time showing physical affection. Her elderly grandmother—who’d passed away two years before Samantha’s father—had been the only one to regularly hug her.
She breathed in, and Alkorin’s heady scent filled her nose. She pretended that was all she could smell, that his warmth was all she could feel, that his gentle voice was all she could hear.
She remained against Alkorin, holding him close—being held close—until her crying eased. Embarrassment and exhaustion quickly swept in.
What am I doing?
She abruptly stepped back, horrified to see what her tears had wrought. Alkorin’s robe was soaked and wrinkled, and his skin shone with moisture from her tears. She hurriedly wiped her face with her palms and winced when the salt burned her scrapes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have—”