Chapter 16: Chloe & Tor

CHLOE

Chloe had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life. Tor—he was okay!

“Did they—did they hurt you?” she asked him as they sat together on the edge of the hospital bed. There were so many men rushing around, so much noise, so much chaos.

Yet, even after all that had happened, she’d never felt so safe. His hand in hers felt like an anchor, grounding her, keeping her feet planted firmly on the floor.

He gave her a small smile, then spoke something she couldn’t understand. His smile faded.

“Did they hurt you?”

Biting her lip, Chloe shook her head. It had been terrifying, though, to see so many huge men enter their room, to attack Tor and then to force her here to the hospital. She glanced up at a passing doctor, then over to the nearest dome thing.

There was a man inside. There was a man inside all of them. They were dying. She didn’t know why. Tor wouldn’t tell her, but she’d deduced that those aliens had kidnapped her because they thought she could help in some way.

She looked back at Tor, wanting to ask more questions, but she shut her mouth. He was stiff, his jaw hard; his hand was firm around hers and he hadn’t let go since the moment he’d sat down with her.

There were lots of men in white coats and they kept doing things to her: scanning her, taking scrapings from her skin and swabbing her mouth. They asked to take blood, but Chloe refused. She hated needles.

She looked at Tor again. His long brown hair was all mussed up from the fight. There was something wrong with his cheek. It looked dark and sunken. Maybe one of the aliens had hit him?

He looked worn, even a little sad. She looked again at the men in the domes, then at the Mexican guy across the room. She turned to look at the Asian woman. She was standing by one of the domes, that huge alien sitting inside it. He was struggling to get out. Several doctors were helping him.

She’d never seen someone so big look so weak. Chloe looked again at Tor. She shivered. Hadn’t ~he~ fought the aliens? Could this have happened to him? To see him like that, looking dead…

“I want to go to our room,” she said.

“Anything you want.”

“I want to go now.” She glanced again at the domes. She looked at the Mexican a second time—doctors were gathering around him.

Tor stood, pulling her up with him.

“Then let’s go.”

Chloe stayed close to Tor’s side as they walked the passageways. When she reached their room, she discovered that it was badly torn up. It looked like Tor had fought hard. Chloe paused at the sight of blood on the carpet.

Tor sat down at the table. Their meal lay half eaten. Some of it had spilled on the floor when the aliens had pulled her from her chair. Chin to her chest, she gripped onto herself.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Chloe shook her head.

“Are you all right?”

His yellow eyes avoided hers.

“I’m fine.”

“You look—you look angry.”

“I’m not angry. Not at you,” he said quickly. “I’m angry at myself.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, looked away, then braced his arms against the table.

“I almost lost you.” He glared across the room. “They almost took you. And my… Roco, Clint, Lew…” He said a number of words she couldn’t understand. He shook his head. “The Wrilings… they’re nasty.”

“What are they?”

“I won’t tell you. I told you that.”

Chloe went silent at the anger in his voice. She wouldn’t push him. She would find out from the others soon enough. His face screwed up as he dropped his head into his hands.

At twenty-one, Chloe had never before thought of herself as an adult and certainly not as a woman. She’d never ~felt~ like a woman. Until now.

She went over. He looked up. With all of his strength, he looked vulnerable. She didn’t know a man could be vulnerable. Her father had certainly never been. He detested it.

Leaning over, Chloe wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He jerked in surprise, then wrapped his arms around her waist. Pressing his face into the side of her neck, he took a shuddering breath.

She didn’t know what to do next. She began to notice the warmth and strength of his arms. His breath was hot against her skin, and he smelled nice. Suddenly, the adult feeling vanished, and she felt small and uncertain again.

He felt too much like a man—a real adult—an ~actual~ man. Muscles, strength, and… erections. Abruptly, she let go.

She stood back, looking around the room with an awkward smile, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She could only wonder what he was thinking, unable to look him in the face. Now it was her turn to take a shuddering breath. She could feel his eyes on her.

“Chloe?” he said.

Chloe jerked.

“I need the bathroom.”

She hurried over, the door sliding shut behind her. Once alone, she dropped into a crouch so that the blood could pump faster to her brain. She’d read about it in a book once. Feeling dizzy, she dropped to her butt.

Was this what she really wanted? Was this what she really wanted to ~do~? He was an alien. A demon! No, that was stupid. He wasn’t a demon at all; anyone could see that. She dropped her head into her hands. But he was still a ~man~. She was too young. She wasn’t ready.

She could almost feel him waiting outside, waiting for ~her~. It made her feel sick. Closing her eyes, she took several long, deep breaths. Starting to feel better, she opened her eyes again. She didn’t have to do any of this, she reminded herself.

~But you will~, came a voice from the back of her mind. Chloe shook her head. It was wrong. It was wrong to have sex outside of marriage. It was kind of wrong to have sex at all! Chloe bit her lip. She could still feel his arms wrapped around her waist, his breath upon her neck.

She rocked herself.

“I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to do anything.”

And even if she wanted to do something, she didn’t have to do ~that~. They’d held hands. They’d hugged—and kissed. She touched her mouth. That was all allowable. What if she could just do that?

Slowly, she stood and went over to the sink where she washed her face. She glanced into the mirror. Somehow, she was looking older.

She stared at herself. She was twenty-one. Her father had already been talking about finding her a suitor before she’d been abducted.

What difference did it make whether it was an alien or a human? Weren’t they both God’s creations?

Or the Devil’s.

Chloe stared at herself. Her father. She bit her lip as the tears welled in her eyes.

Then she frowned. She turned and walked back outside.

Tor was still sitting at the table. He looked up.

“Tell me…” She tried to find the word in Zibon. “…tell me no lie.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You mean the truth?”

“Truth. Is my…” Again, she couldn’t find the Zibon word. “…father okay?”

His forehead puckered. “Who?”

“The man…fighting when you…took me from Rictor 5.”

Tor frowned. “I have not hurt…my…was you.”

Closing her eyes, Chloe scrunched up her face as she tried to put his words together, but it was impossible.

“I’m not a murderer,” he said.

Chloe snapped open her eyes. “And you say truth?”

“Yes,” he said.

Chloe was trembling as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She clasped her hands between her knees.

Looking down into her lap, she said, “I want a helmet.”

TOR

Tor raised his eyebrows with a start. “A good idea,” he said.

It was startling how much she did know already, having only worn the gegger helmet for such a short period of time. Incredible, in fact. He’d underestimated her.

When she’d first arrived, he thought her silly—just an ignorant wild Rictorian. They’d all thought it. And now, not only were they realizing how smart Rictorians were but how strong too. To fend off the Wrilings! There were so many mysteries yet to unravel with these beings.

He stood and held out his hand. “Come. I’ll take you there.”

Tor held fast to her hand, keeping her close to his side as they walked the corridors. Every time a Zibon passed, he tensed, glaring back into their eyes.

He knew two of the men who’d attacked him—and they would pay. His cheek was sore where they’d punched him. His jaw was aching.

But at least they hadn’t hurt Chloe. At least they hadn’t bonded her…

Tor winced at the thought. What would have happened? He would definitely be a murderer then.

“That hurts,” Chloe said.

Tor released her hand with a start. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing ahead. “We’re here.”

He pushed the door open. Tor raised his eyebrows, surprised to find the room occupied.

“Chloe!” It was Quinton’s mate. She was seated at one of the benches, her gegger helmet placed in front of her. She stood, wobbling a little.

As usual, she ducked her head and pulled her hair across her face.

Chloe looked up at Tor in surprise. He smiled at her. “Go.”

She went inside, turning to look at him as he closed the door. He walked away, glad she wouldn’t be alone. If the two could talk, if they could support each other, maybe it would move things along more swiftly.

Quinton must be back in the laboratory. Tor suddenly remembered that the ship was making its way back to Rictor 5—an exciting thought.

He was intending to go to the saloon for a drink. Then he thought against it, taking a turn toward the infirmary instead.

He stepped inside. It looked the same as how he’d left it, though less busy and chaotic. The medical team was mostly congregated around Clint’s capsule down the end.

There were only fourteen capsules now. Usually an ominous sign—but not this time.

Roco was lying in a bed with a drip in his arm, sitting propped up against some pillows. He looked pretty bad, bags under his eyes, his cheeks still sunken, though better than when Tor had last seen him. In only a few hours the Wriling had sucked him dry.

Tor passed his gaze over the remaining capsules. It was urgent they get to Rictor 5—and fast.

With Roco was his female. She was lying in bed alongside him, her face buried in his neck, her arm wrapped around his waist. Her long black hair was stark against his unusually pale skin.

A medical specialist stood beside him, asking questions as he took notes in his electronic notebook.

Tor went over. Roco looked up with a weak grin. “So, how’s the medical marvel going?”

“Improving,” Roco croaked.

The Rictorian female lifted her face to look up at Tor.

Tor raised his eyebrows. “You’re not bonded yet? I thought the bond drove away the Wriling?”

“A partial bond,” Roco answered. He looked at his female. “Stage 2. We’re eager to get back to our room, but I’ve been forced to stay until I recover.” He frowned and rolled his eyes.

“How is Chloe?” the woman asked.

Tor cleared his throat. “Good. We are good.” He paused as he gazed at her. “You don’t think you can talk to her? About the…about the bonding, I mean?” He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I don’t think I can talk to her about it. She needs a woman.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Good. Thank you.” He raked his fingers through his hair. Why was he feeling embarrassed?

“Ready security!” shouted a voice.

They all turned to watch the activity around Clint. It looked like they were removing him from the capsule. The medics were standing back. Two security guards had their pulsars aimed at the ready as two more guards heaved Clint onto a bed.

Clint’s mate stood back, watching, face pale, arms wrapped around his chest.

Tor could see the shine of the Wriling membrane encapsulating Clint, who was limp and naked. The guards placed him on the bed and backed away.

Quickly, they erected a large shield around the bed, likely made of the same diamond-primed glass of the medical capsules, hard enough to slow the Wriling down should it attempt to escape but not stop it completely.

Standing outside, they all watched as Clint’s mate crawled inside. They locked the window securely behind him.

“Is it going to work?” the Rictorian female asked anxiously of Roco.

“We can only hope.”