alien's name a more understandable pronunciation. He seemed to search for the right word before he continued, "He is what you name a doctor."
Natalie frowned at him and glanced at the other alien. "Okay." It was hard not to fidget under those unblinking stares. "Uh, why are you telling me this?" Did he realize she had asthma?
Without answering her, he grated something at the other alien. Natalie nearly jumped out of her skin when the doctor alien took a device from his pants pocket and pointed it at her. The object appeared small and fragile in his big hands. No lights or sound indicated the gadget was working but still, he stared at it and grunted, while Zacar made threatening noises at her.
"Why are you threatening me? What'd I do?" She hated the whiny tone of her voice, but she challenged anyone to go through what she'd gone through the last five days without whining. She stiffened. Would the doctor learn about her asthma from his scanner thingy, if he didn't know about it already? But more importantly, would they consider asthma a weakness they'd kill her for? Could his scanner tell him asthma was hereditary in her family.
"Not ten years lost," Zacar insisted, and she nodded lamely.
She had no idea what he was talking about and, with both of them looming over her, it seemed safer to agree with whatever he said.
She hoped whatever the scanner told him would satisfy him, but he growled something and the two aliens stopped stacking crates and walked outside.
Then Zacar had her coat off, her sweater and shirt pushed up before she could move. He growled, his eyes flashing red lightning at the purple and yellow bruises and bite marks the raiders had left on her body, a slowly fading reminder of the horrible attack the day the raiders had caught her.
Her face flaming, she tried to pull down her shirt and sweater.
The doctor growled as well. Plucking a small metal tube from his pocket, he rubbed something on the biggest bruise, located on the tender skin between her neck and shoulder, and she flinched. Zacar turned on him with a savage movement and the doctor quickly offered the tube to Zacar before moving away.
Zacar picked her up and walked to her tent where he laid her down on the bed. He had her sweater, shirt, and pants off her before she could even think to protest. Kneeling before her, he gently rubbed the horrific smelling, slimy green paste onto her bruises.
Trying to conceal the cups of her bra with her hands, Natalie cringed away from the smell.
"Still," he growled without looking up from his task.
If only she was brave enough to tell him she wasn't his dog.
His fingers lingered uncomfortably long as they smeared the disgusting stuff on each and every bruise, bite, and scrape. One by one, he found them all.
"You are safe. Woumbers never do this again." He smoothed salve over a particularly nasty bite mark on her breast. When her nipples drew painfully tight, she expected him to linger there. But he merely moved on to the next bruise. She blew out the breath that had gotten trapped in her lungs.
She didn't know what to make of him. He professed to kill babies, but then he cared for her like this?
At last, apparently satisfied, he grunted and the doctor came into the tent and scanned her again, not looking up from the instrument the entire time. The gadget beeped then he hurried away.
Still hunched before her, Zacar put his hands on her hips. His thumbs met over her stomach, and she swallowed. Her survival tent, advertised as suitable for a family, now shrank, Zacar's presence making it too small for even the two of them. His rough fingers traced her hipbones, and he looked up, spearing her with volcanic heat. Her body, not under her control anymore, throbbed and ached for more of Zacar's touch.
"You will be my breeder," he growled in that way of his that forced involuntary, delicious shivers down her spine.
It took a
Natalie frowned at him and glanced at the other alien. "Okay." It was hard not to fidget under those unblinking stares. "Uh, why are you telling me this?" Did he realize she had asthma?
Without answering her, he grated something at the other alien. Natalie nearly jumped out of her skin when the doctor alien took a device from his pants pocket and pointed it at her. The object appeared small and fragile in his big hands. No lights or sound indicated the gadget was working but still, he stared at it and grunted, while Zacar made threatening noises at her.
"Why are you threatening me? What'd I do?" She hated the whiny tone of her voice, but she challenged anyone to go through what she'd gone through the last five days without whining. She stiffened. Would the doctor learn about her asthma from his scanner thingy, if he didn't know about it already? But more importantly, would they consider asthma a weakness they'd kill her for? Could his scanner tell him asthma was hereditary in her family.
"Not ten years lost," Zacar insisted, and she nodded lamely.
She had no idea what he was talking about and, with both of them looming over her, it seemed safer to agree with whatever he said.
She hoped whatever the scanner told him would satisfy him, but he growled something and the two aliens stopped stacking crates and walked outside.
Then Zacar had her coat off, her sweater and shirt pushed up before she could move. He growled, his eyes flashing red lightning at the purple and yellow bruises and bite marks the raiders had left on her body, a slowly fading reminder of the horrible attack the day the raiders had caught her.
Her face flaming, she tried to pull down her shirt and sweater.
The doctor growled as well. Plucking a small metal tube from his pocket, he rubbed something on the biggest bruise, located on the tender skin between her neck and shoulder, and she flinched. Zacar turned on him with a savage movement and the doctor quickly offered the tube to Zacar before moving away.
Zacar picked her up and walked to her tent where he laid her down on the bed. He had her sweater, shirt, and pants off her before she could even think to protest. Kneeling before her, he gently rubbed the horrific smelling, slimy green paste onto her bruises.
Trying to conceal the cups of her bra with her hands, Natalie cringed away from the smell.
"Still," he growled without looking up from his task.
If only she was brave enough to tell him she wasn't his dog.
His fingers lingered uncomfortably long as they smeared the disgusting stuff on each and every bruise, bite, and scrape. One by one, he found them all.
"You are safe. Woumbers never do this again." He smoothed salve over a particularly nasty bite mark on her breast. When her nipples drew painfully tight, she expected him to linger there. But he merely moved on to the next bruise. She blew out the breath that had gotten trapped in her lungs.
She didn't know what to make of him. He professed to kill babies, but then he cared for her like this?
At last, apparently satisfied, he grunted and the doctor came into the tent and scanned her again, not looking up from the instrument the entire time. The gadget beeped then he hurried away.
Still hunched before her, Zacar put his hands on her hips. His thumbs met over her stomach, and she swallowed. Her survival tent, advertised as suitable for a family, now shrank, Zacar's presence making it too small for even the two of them. His rough fingers traced her hipbones, and he looked up, spearing her with volcanic heat. Her body, not under her control anymore, throbbed and ached for more of Zacar's touch.
"You will be my breeder," he growled in that way of his that forced involuntary, delicious shivers down her spine.
It took a
Similar Books
