ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2) Read online

  ‘But it’s mine. My present.’

  ‘I’ll keep it safe.’

  ‘Mine.’

  I tugged it free and winced when the screaming tantrum I expected was louder and wrigglier than expected.

  The L’Odo bellowed for a retreat.

  When they turned to flee, the Dei San abandoned their siege on our fierce group to chase an easier meal.

  Ominous silence descended on the shadowy culvert.

  Éorik dispatched a final, thrashing enemy with a ruthless plunge of naked blade to the heart. In a fluid glide, he sheathed his swords in the parallel scabbards latched to his back and prowled through the sprawl of headless bodies and stray limbs to Beowyn.

  Jaw tensing, he placed both hands on the male’s shoulders, thumbs brushing against his throat as their eyes spoke words neither said aloud.

  My heart tripped in my chest. The exquisite sight of them together affected me in a deep, lasting manner I feared it forever would; I feared I now craved.

  They turned to me.

  Regal with his quietude in the wake of screaming death, Beowyn’s gaze–a haze of silvered crystal–met mine, brilliant with emotion. ‘We found them.’

  Overwhelmed, but unable to break the connection, I stared into his eyes and let him see the bottomless well of gratitude I’d fail to ever coherently articulate. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Covetous eyes trailing over my face, he shook his head.

  Éorik’s eyes switched between us.

  Rather than the predatory, wary expression I remembered dominating his face when he looked at me, I now saw a softening, an acceptance.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ I whispered feeling the relief down to my bones.

  He inclined his head.

  Patrick stood rigid with tension. His head bowed, pink-white skin smeared with gore up to his elbows. He knelt and ripped a clump of moss from a rock and scrubbed at his arms and flecks on his face and neck. ‘Will they come back?’

  ‘Yes.’ Éorik passed him an opaque ampoule. ‘Once clean rub a thin layer of the ointment to your cuts.’ He broke another in half and applied the sharp, herbaceous-smelling unguent to the wound in Beowyn’s side.

  ‘Are they contagious?’ Patrick scrutinised the cylinder, troubled.

  ‘You are inoculated against their filth. The fluid will heal you.’

  I looked Fergie over and saw she had faded scratches on her face and arms. He’d taken care of her. I cradled her close then sobbed when Uncle Fergus, Rowan and Aled glommed onto us, crushing us in their need to be close.

  Adrenaline my nervous system mainlined during the skirmish depleted. It left behind a tremor in my limbs and into a harsh throb between my eyes.

  With a watery smile, Rowan dug into his pocket and passed a lump of yellow and red plastic my way.

  Mouthing thanks, I popped the pacifier in Fergie’s mouth and sighed in pleasure when she lay her head on my chest, fingers playing with my hair.

  There was no describing the ecstasy of having her in my arms.

  ‘What did you do?’ Éorik swiped at a nugget of flesh sliding down his neck, recoiling at the jellied texture and rotten smell. ‘You stopped her noise.’

  ‘I gave her the dummy.’ I tapped the glossy plastic button, making the small loop flap. I needed to find something to attach it to her rompers.

  ‘Binky,’ Fergie drawled around the rubber, sleepy eyes aimed his way.

  ‘That…that thing is the binky?’

  I slid him a look then sent my eyes back to the impenetrable bank of trees. Will they come back? Yes. ‘Aye. It soothes her. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Dah.’ He threw his hands up then went to walk away, but Fergie twisted and stuck her arms up. He about turned, hoisted her to his front and began a pat, swing, purring ensemble that sent her to sleep faster than I’d dreamed possible. Our party grew quiet. Even the blue barbarian seemed puzzled, his tilted head and furrowed brow evidence of this. At the stupefied look contorting Beowyn’s features, the amused expressions on Rowan and Aled’s bruised faces, the sight of the Commander crooning a three year old to sleep was indeed out of the ordinary.

  At her wheezing snores, I snapped out of it. ‘I can keep her.’

  ‘It is fine.’ He unzipped his suit and tucked her in. ‘She will be safe with me, and the air is cooler now.’ His hand lay protectively on Fergie’s small head. ‘My body will keep her warm.’

  Uncle Fergus peered at me through white eyebrow whiskers, his light green eyes solemn. ‘A chick that will grow into a cock can be spotted the day it hatches.’

  I slipped an arm around his shoulders. Apart from a bruise or two and a scabbed wound on his arm, he appeared unharmed. ‘Is that so?’ I pecked his cheek, so happy he was safe.

  Patrick approached our little group last. His chest heaved as he fell to his knees and put his arms around us. He kissed a trembling, quietly weeping Rowan on the forehead. ‘We’re alright.’

  ‘We must prepare.’ Beowyn loomed over us, hair wild, eyes fierce. ‘It is but a matter of time before they return.’ The ugly length of metal he’d appropriated during the fight dripped with gore.

  ‘Can we no hide?’ I asked.

  ‘They will track us and block avenues of escape until they lead us into a trap. It is better we make a stand on open ground.’ Beowyn looked at Patrick. ‘When I give the order, you will take your family and run.’

  Patrick agreed without dissent.

  I balked. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Orik and I will stay. We will fend them off for as long as we need to.’

  ‘Splitting up seems risky.’ Rowan wiped at his reddened eyes. Red marks stood out starkly against the pale skin at his wrists; rope burns. ‘We could look for somewhere defensible. Wait them out.’

  I nodded my agreement.

  Aled grunted, but it didn’t sound like he supported the idea.

  Beowyn shook his head. ‘Even if we found a place large enough and reach it before their hunger for flesh turns their minds our way again, it would take little to break our line in such a space. We’d be trapped and slaughtered. I’d rather you have a chance at escape.’

  ‘It will be easier to fight without dividing our attention between ourselves and protecting you.’ Éorik’s penetrating gaze bounced to Patrick then back to mine. ‘Your House lead knows what he is doing. He will keep you safe until the rescue drones arrive. We will confuse your trail and pick them off one by one.’

  ‘It is too late for that.’ A manifestation of the cruelest winter, the spectral voice chilled the humid air. Skin a matte, cobalt blue, the alien giant peered into the distance, an intense cast to his wolfish face. His eyes had no irises, no pupil. They were unrelieved white overlaid with crushed, glowing pearls. Like the Verak, there were no eyelashes to gentle his unblinking stare.

  Unlike them, he radiated malice.

  ‘Who is he?’ I asked the Verak in a low aside, far too intimidated to approach the strange male.

  ‘His name is Hel Bihter.’ Éorik turned to Beowyn, sculpted mouth pulled thin. ‘I will explain further, but for now, I did promise passage.’

  ‘Are there others?’ Beowyn asked.

  Hel Bihter twitched at the question.

  ‘No,’ Éorik replied after a notable pause. ‘He crash landed solars ago.’

  Beowyn nodded slowly. ‘The Aztekan Horde is our ally.’ He crossed the space to take up stance at the male’s side. ‘Your arrangement with my Commander holds with me as long as you fight with us. What do you sense?’

  ‘We hear them.’ Hel Bihter jerked his chin. ‘More than before.’

  Éorik spat curses. He motioned to my family. ‘Move behind me.’

  ‘Run with them,’ Beowyn ordered.

  When his command engendered no movement, he sent a fearsome look over his shoulder, furious to be disobeyed.

  Unsheathing his blades, Éorik shook his head. ‘It makes no difference now, and I will not leave you.’

  ‘Beowyn?’ I questioned
shakily, taking Fergie back from the Commander and curling her into me.

  ‘I am with you, my One.’

  Aled hissed in pain as he gained his feet. He stood next to Patrick; me, Rowan and Uncle Fergus now ringed and in the middle.

  They came; a thundering tide.

  Beowyn attacked, an embodiment of fury. The uncouth sword in his fist danced, a streak of black flame.

  There were so many.

  Too many.

  We were going to die.

  The circle shrank until I choked on the rankness of their cankerous rot and shied from their shrieking whoops, their moist, feverish heat.

  Lashing out with his fists, Aled gasped and stumbled back a step when a whirling blur decapitated the Dei San snapping for his neck.

  Rowan gave a cry and snatched up one of the torches speared in the ground. He thrust it towards a yawing maw, gooey saliva dripping to scorch the earth like acid. The creature feinted, and he missed. With a grunt of effort, he surged forward again, this time making contact with a misshapen abdomen. Oily skin blackened, hissed and popped. The burnt stink of flesh pervaded the air, a ghastly cry of pain cutting through the clamour.

  ‘Mammy.’ Fergie’s terrorised wail shattered my fugue, her rigid fingers digging into my shoulders, small body quaking as she tried to burrow deeper into my protective embrace.

  I put my back to the mayhem, knelt, and set her down in front of me, her back facing out too. My heart hurt. I placed my hands either side of her head, so I was the only thing she could see. ‘What’s today, wee bit?’

  Her eyes darted to find the owner of a hair-raising screech. She whimpered. ‘Scared. Go home now?’

  ‘What special day is it?’ Something warm splattered against my side, ran down my arm to drip off my elbow.

  Hazel eyes widened. ‘My birthday.’

  ‘Yes.’ My chest ached, and my eyes overflowed. I smiled through the pain and regret. ‘We’ll sing, aye? Big girls get to celebrate when they turn three. Wow. You’re so old.’ I brought her little hands up to cover her eyes. ‘Happy birthday to you.’ My voice quavered. I swallowed thickly. ‘Sing with me, sweetheart.’

  ‘Happy birthday tae ye,’ she warbled with an uncertain smile.

  ‘Good girl.’ I flinched as Beowyn lurched closer to hack into the throat of a Dei San reaching for us.

  Smelling of smoke and iron-rich blood, Rowan collapsed beside us. ‘Happy birthday dear Fergie.’ He stroked her cheek. Our eyes met over her head, undiluted terror ricocheting between us.

  ‘Happy Birthday to you,’ we sang.

  Fergie tried to smile but her rosy lip wobbled. ‘Mammy?’

  I kissed her forehead. Inhaled her sweet, powdery-scent. ‘Keep your eyes closed.’ Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks, tickled the grooves bracketing my nose and spilled salt into my mouth. I ignored the grisly sounds of dying. ‘Mammy’s here.’ Pressing her face into my chest, her hands still over her eyes, I shifted my hands to cover her ears.

  Roaring a challenge, the Dei San pressed forward.

  Patrick and Aled responded with crazed violence, a last desperate act of defence. Beowyn and Éorik yowled, the otherworldly sounds rife with outrage. Hel Bihter drifted across the terrain like a phantasm, bodies falling as he ghosted past, and my Uncle Fergus bellowed unintelligible threats to the sky, spittle flying, face florid, cursing at an enemy only he perceived.

  It’s all my fault.

  My daughter’s shrieks battered against my eardrums.

  I brought them here to die.

  I scrunched my eyes shut to brace for the end.

  God forgive me.

  Bowing and whipping from side to side, tress groaned under a sudden, fierce wind, leaves twirling and vines snapping against the current as blinding lights descended from above.

  Uncle Fergus yelped and ducked, cowering at my back.

  A sinistrous whine blasted over the tumult, a reverberation that grew higher in pitch–powering up.

  Prism-hued lightning struck the base of a tree. ‘That–’ said a disembodied voice with growling undertones, ‘–was a warning from my Rä’Na. Retreat, and you will be spared. Attack, and you die.’

  Suspended in shock, nothing moved.

  With a screech of defiance, a Dei San broke free of its stupor and bounded towards us. It sprung high off its rear paws, spiked cudgel lifting to deliver a crushing blow.

  Eerie, subterranean, a drone broadcast through the air, preceding crackling static. A globe of fizzy light collided with the Dei San. It disintegrated. Wind threw the pink-green cloud of gritty ashes into our faces, the tarry, metallic taste blowing into our gaping mouths.

  Dei San scattered.

  They exploded into dust, targeted one by one by expert marksmanship. Those managing to elude the aerial barrage fled yawping into the jungle.

  Soaked in vile blood, Beowyn roared. He spun, hooked Éorik at the nape of his neck and cracked their horns together, baring sharp teeth in feral joy. They pressed their foreheads together and thumped their chests.

  With a husky sob, my muscles unclenched. I almost fainted from the rush of blood flooding my extremities.

  Lips and cheeks drained of colour, Patrick doubled over, hands to knees.

  ‘It’s over?’ Rowan whispered.

  ‘Aye.’ I swallowed multiple times around the thorny tangle blooming in my throat. ‘I’m thinking so.’

  ‘Oh, Sweet baby Jesus.’ He folded in on himself, thrusting his hands into his filthy hair, forehead on his knees. ‘Praise be to God and our new alien Overlords.’

  Aled flicked his ear. ‘Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain or worship false idols. Commandments four and two.’

  ‘Ouch, shite, seriously?’ Rowan’s hand snapped up to rub the reddened lobe. ‘Are we really having this conversation right now?’

  Lowering onto his behind with a weary sigh, Aled shrugged. ‘There’s no time like the present.’ He draped an arm around Rowan’s shoulders and cooed at Fergie, who leant towards him, demanding one of his trademark, near-suffocating, maple-scented hugs.

  Happy to let her bask in her his affection, I let her go, though my motherly instinct to snatch her up and hide her away lingered. That she wasn’t a drooling, catatonic mess after what she witnessed, I’d forever be grateful.

  Hel Bihter’s tense frame hummed with repressed energy. ‘We will hunt the last of them. We will return.’

  Radiating satisfaction, Beowyn shoved his High Commander away with a savage grin. ‘Very well.’ He faced the warrior. ‘We will not leave without you.’

  Jerking his chin, the Aztekan melted into the weakening shadows.

  Beowyn’s hot gaze arrowed to me.

  I stood and rocked slightly back when he crossed the distance in lightning fast strides. His arms went around my back, hauling me off my feet. His body was push of hard muscle shoving against my breasts and blockading any thought of escape. His free hand thrust into my hair and then his mouth closed on mine. This our first kiss where his lips pried my own apart so his tongue could invade. This our first sharing of breath as his earthy taste and liquorice scent shattered me.

  Breathing laboured, we parted.

  I stared into his eyes, and he gazed back with triumph.

  Chapter 12

  Darkest night lightened to indigo morning as I watched the spaceship land. I slumped, so weak with relief my legs wobbled. I shot Beowyn a hesitant smile over my shoulder. I still tasted his lips. Rescue was moments away. My daughter was in my arms, and an exciting, beautiful life lay ahead not only for me, but my clan.

  Beowyn’s attention centred on the shining vessel, a delighted grin brightening his face.

  Cold vapour from space drifted from the craft’s hull and into the sweltering tropical air. With a grind of gears a mechanical ramp lowered.

  Monsters bearing emerald, sapphire and bronze scales thundered down the metal slope. Bodies clad in rubberised, steel-coloured armour, their fluid gaits and alien, jerky movement lent them the aura of feral
beasts. Dread-locked Mohawks slithered over muscular shoulders and rings of aged gold pierced pointed ears and scowling brow ridges. Black voids where eyes should lie swept over the gruesome scene pervading the clearing. Hissing past a split tongue, the largest barbarian’s mouth parted, exposing curved canines in his upper and lower jaws. They made Verak fangs look like rounded pegs.

  Rowan hyperventilated. Fergus covered his eyes with his hands, and Aled blasphemed. Patrick dove for a dirk protruding from a fetid corpse.

  Mouth opening and closing, arms locked around my daughter, I scuttled back until I hit Beowyn’s chest.

  Chuckling, his arms came around me, patting Fergie’s trembling head. ‘Calm yourselves.’

  Éorik turned. He held up a staying hand. ‘There is no danger from the Ra. You are amongst friends.’

  Patrick gained his feet, but tucked the dirk into the small of his back, expression grim.

  Quaking, I cowered, unashamed to be terrified of the creatures with four arms each prowling towards us.

  ‘Wyn, what the hell did you do?’ A woman, a human woman, marched down the ramp, a miniature monster swaddled at her breast. Kinky black hair was a bouncy cloud around her caffe-coloured face. Her angry and unutterably stunning face. Even as she approached, towering in her rage, an ecru dress reminiscent of ancient Byzantium draped over her voluptuous figure, her hips swung and her breasts jiggled in a provocative dance.

  This was Beowyn’s human friend?

  ‘Beautiful,’ I muttered.

  Beowyn smiled. ‘She is.’

  Coming to a rocking stop at the decapitated head of a L’Odo, she hauled her foot back and punted it into the trees with savage glee. ‘Disgusting beast.’ The woman spared a fleeting look at my knock-kneed family then glared at Beowyn. Hazel eyes narrowed to slits. ‘One.’ She drawled the number with puckered lips then ended it with a jaw that snapped closed fast enough to break teeth. ‘That’s this many as you seem to have forgotten your numbers.’

  Hands behind his back, Éorik coughed. ‘The Great One made a kingly decision to allow these needy refugees–.’

  ‘Haud,’ Rowan protested.

  ‘–to accompany us to a fruitful life of freedom and plenty.’