Page 2 of Her Alien Mercenaries
“Belt. We say under our belt.” Jenna wrinkled her nose as she considered the expression. “I don’t know why. To my mind, wings sounds much better.”
The Vardarian female chuckled. “I would agree, but that would make me seem biased. Since you are the language expert, I will simply defer to your opinion.”
Jenna still wasn’t used to hearing herself described that way. On Earth, most people tried to minimize her abilities. They referenced her “knack for languages,” or summarized her years of study as an interesting talent. On Earth everyone spoke Galactic Common no matter what hive city they lived in, which limited her usefulness, or so she was told.
She knew they were lying to her. Life in a hive city was predicated on power. The more you had, the more you lied and manipulated to keep it while gaining more. She’d never had any power at all, but she’d spent her entire adult life working for people who did. It left her with a collection of hard-earned lessons and a deep dislike for liars of any kind.
Including herself. Because that’s what she was—a liar. Oh sure, it was for the best of reasons. She was doing her part to protect the colony and everyone in it, but that didn’t change the facts.
Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.The children’s ditty ran through her mind. Another strange saying from humanity’s distant past. She didn’t even know where she’d picked it up. Probably from one of the children she’d looked after. It wasn’t likely she’d learned it during her own childhood. She tried not to dwell on those memories too much. Life in a corporate-sponsored care center provided her with food, shelter, and an education, but little else worth remembering.
Jenna realized her mind had wandered and refocused her attention on what Saska was saying. “… know you’ve toured the complex several times, but if you get turned around, you can always get directions from the central system.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jenna doubted she’d get lost in the neatly laid out space. Vardarian architecture tended toward wide open spaces and flowing lines that felt both organic and logical.
“Good luck today. Your classroom is that way. I should get back to work…”
Whatever else Saska was about to say was drowned out by several delighted shrieks and cheers from above. Several late arrivals scattered to make way for an adult Vardarian male who approached the grounds from a dive so steep and fast she couldn’t imagine how he’d stop in time to avoid getting hurt.
Jenna gasped, but Saska uttered a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “Typical. Torren will be late for his own funeral. Which will no doubt be brought about because he crashed into something while flying too fast.”
“That’s ateacher?” she asked. Her eyes were still locked on the male. At the last second, he extended his wings, catching the air and letting him turn his fall into an elegant swoop that ended with him soaring a short distance before setting down in an open space.
Saska huffed. “That is Torren Vex. He teaches science to the younger classes and chemistry to the senior students. Come on. I’ll introduce you. That way you’ll know who to blame when your classroom fills up with strange smelling smoke at some point. Believe me. Itwillhappen.”
Jenna watched with interest as he folded back his wings, making them vanish beneath the back of his loose-fitting tunic. The morning sunlight glinted off golden scales as he turned from the still cheering students to meet Saska’s disapproving gaze.
Instead of looking apologetic, the male grinned and raised both wings in what she’d learned was the Vardarian version of a shrug.
Damn, he was hot. Exactly the kind of man she’d avoided back on Earth. It didn’t matter that his long hair was tied back in a neat ponytail with only a few strands falling loose to frame a face that might have been sculpted by a master artisan. His clothes were relatively mundane by Vardarian standards, a simple black sleeveless top with only a bit of simple blue stitching along the rounded collar set over a pair of black pants.
It mattered not a whit that he looked neat, tidy, and professional. She knew what he was.
Trouble.
And stars above and below, he was staring at her like she was the last piece of bacon at a breakfast buffet.
“Mahaya.” He uttered the word with utter conviction and a hint of wonder, his voice so low it was more rumble than speech.
Jenna froze. What? No. This was her first day at her new job. She wasn’t… this couldn’t…fraxx.
Of course it could happen. It was happening. She’d been warned often enough. She just never imagined it would happen toher.
Saska looked from Torren to Jenna and back again, both brows raised almost to her hairline in shock. Then she swore softly and uttered a sigh. “Right then. I need to rearrange the schedules and find two beings to substitute for the two of you. I expect both of you to resume your duties next week once you get this…” She moved her hands through the air between them. “Sorted out. Good luck and congratulations.”
Saska walked away, leaving Jenna standing with a tall, handsome as hell stranger… Who was apparently herfraxxingmate.
2
Hot water cascadedover his body, washing away the last traces of sleep and silencing the part of him that still wanted to go back to bed. Not that he needed the rest. Torren, like every other Vardarian in existence, was born with nanotech. The micro-machines optimized his body in every way imaginable, including metabolism, immunity, and how much sleep he needed. Despite all that, he still liked to sleep in as long as possible.
With a groan, he stretched his arms over his head and extended his wings so they reached from wall to wall. Space was a luxury he’d gone without for decades. It was one of the many things he loved about their new life in Haven. For the first time since leaving his parents’ estates so many years ago, he had the two things he’d missed: space and privacy.
Thoughts of what he had now led to memories of his former life. His mind drifted as he recalled cramped bunks, stale air, and the constant buzz and bump of energy that only happened when too many people were crammed into a too-small space.
Sounds and scents came back to him. The too loud laughter that came right before a battle. The crackle and snap of a fresh ammo pack slammed into place. Copper in the air as a friend bled out. The screams of a stranger begging for someone to stop the pain. The gut-punch wallop of an explosion going off at close range.
When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the shower anymore. He was trapped in a nightmare. He tried to move, to run, to fight, but all he could do was stand in the middle of a murky landscape as a torrent of hot blood flowed over him.
