Page 10 of Cursed Alien

“Papa? Are you in there?” Her hands pressed against the wood as if she could reach through it by sheer force of will.

“Bella?” The male’s voice was weak and hoarse. “Bella, get away from here! There’s a monster?—”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving without you.”

She found the electronic lock and started examining it, her fingers probing the mechanism before reaching for one of the small tools at her waist

“Bella, you need to leave. Now,” the male said urgently. “There’s something here—some kind of monster. It brought me here three days ago.”

“I’m getting you out,” she said, already working on bypassing the lock. “Just hold on.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not a normal animal. It’s—” The male broke off, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s one of them. A Vultor. But wrong somehow. Cursed.”

He flinched at the word.Cursed.Yes, that was the right word for what had happened to him. Memories threatened to surface—a woman’s voice warning him, his own arrogant dismissal—but he pushed them away. Now was not the time.

He watched her slender fingers move over the control panel, impressed despite himself at her skill with the technology. She was close to solving it when something in him rebelled at the thought of losing her—a surge of the beast’s territorial instinct mixed with a deeper, more rational fear. He couldn’t let her take the male. Not yet. Not until he understood why her presence affected him so strongly.

“Stop.” The word emerged as a growl, echoing through the corridor.

She whirled, eyes wide, searching the shadows where he stood concealed, but her hands remained defiantly on the lock.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, voice steady despite the fear he could smell on her. “Show yourself.”

He remained hidden, watching as she turned back to the lock, working even faster now.

“Stop.” His voice was deeper this time, more commanding. When she continued, he stepped partially from the shadows, not enough to reveal his features but enough to let her glimpse his size. “He stays.”

CHAPTER6

Bella scanned the shadows, desperately trying to make out the figure behind the voice but all she could see was a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Based on their position high above her head, he must be over seven feet tall. Her father had said there was a monster, and Agatha had warned her about one as well, but Agatha had also said that appearances could be deceptive.

“Let my father go. He’s done nothing to you.” Her voice came out remarkably calm even though her knees were shaking. She was cold and tired and wet, but the storm hadn’t prevented her from finding her father and neither would this mysterious male.

The rain had reached her almost as soon as she turned off the main road to follow the river, but she’d refused to turn back and she’d managed to reach the stone marker before it grew too dark to continue. She’d spent a miserable, sleepless night huddled under the doubtful protection of a thick evergreen bush and set out again as soon as it was light enough to see. Even though it was overgrown, the road leading up to the pass was wider and smoother than she’d expected and she’d made good time until she reached the keep Agatha had mentioned.

The word keep had conjured up the image of something square and fortified, but the elegant lines of the huge building sprawled along the ridge above the road were clear, despite the vines beginning to enshroud it. Huge arched windows and steep roof lines gave it an unexpected grace and argued a level of building skill that was rarely seen outside Port Cantor.

Despite her curiosity, she would have passed it by if she hadn’t seen what might have been faint wagon tracks in the wide path leading up to the broken gates. The ground was so soggy it was hard to tell, but her instincts had urged her to follow them. Her instincts had been right—her father was here, locked away by the huge male lurking in the shadows.

Inside the room, her father called out frantically, “Bella! Run!”

But she didn’t run. She stood her ground, letting one hand move slowly to the knife at her belt. A laughably inadequate weapon against someone of his size but it was all she had.

“Please let him go,” she said, quietly. “He’s all I have.”

He shifted restlessly, but then she thought he shook his head.

“No.”

“Why are you keeping him here?” she asked, her hand still on the knife. “He was just passing through.”

Behind the door, her father had fallen silent. She prayed it was only because he was listening to their exchange. The weakness in his voice worried her.

“Mine,” the monster growled.

She frowned at him, trying to figure out what he meant. “Your what?”

“Territory,” he finally added.

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