Page 52 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
One of the men steps forward, and my attention rivets to him. Unlike some of his comrades, his footsteps crunch on the branches and rocks beneath him, the shiny shoes ill-suited for walking through dense greenery. This man doesn’t belong here.
“You have no idea how long it’s taken me to track you down,” he says. “How much of my time you’ve wasted.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back a loose, dark strand. Some hair product makes his hair cling unnaturally to his head, not even stirred by the gentle breeze. He looks out of place in this environment.
“My name is Walter Sullivan.” He tucks his hands into his pants, and my eyes follow cautiously. Is he hiding a weapon, or is he foolish enough to imprison his hands in a potential fight?
None of us move. Everyone in the clearing stands still, waiting. I watch him, ready for whatever excuse he has for trespassing in my territory. He observes me with an inflated sense of self-importance.
A bright red crimsonthorn water bug takes flight from the creek’s surface, zooming between us. Usually harmless, it flies straight for Walter, curious about the stranger. Walter retreats from the bug, eyes widening in alarm. His hand emerges from his pocket, swatting the air around his face with a grimace.
I repress a laugh at his terrible aim. If he had lived here in the area long enough, he would know the crimsonthorn water bugs are harmless.
Fleeting moments pass, and the bug flies towards one of the other men stationed behind Walter. He doesn’t bother shooing it away when it lands on his shoulder, eyes still locked on me. I see his other hand gripping a metal rod at his side, his fingers flexing when he notices my gaze.
This is one that I must be wary of. A real warrior. Not this Walter Sullivan.
“You can speak. You aren’t the only one with a translator. Let's get this over with; I’ve spent too much time out here in this barbaric place." Walter practically spits the final words, his lips curling with disgust. My focus returns to him as he points toward me, calling, "You beast!"
My body twitches at the insult, but I hold my position. I resist the urge to reach out and grab hold of the offending finger that hovers in the air in front of my face, wishing to snap it in two.
Breathing deeply to try and calm my nerves, I’m reassured that the scent of fear has increased the longer these men are in my presence.
“You’ve encroached on our lands. You’ve taken my woman. Hand over Ariana, leave, and we’ll let you live.”
“Ariana is my mate,” I say, baring my teeth at the foolish man. This is definitely not one of the human smiles. “I’ll never give her up.”
His face goes pale, retreating as if struck by my words. “Mate? You actually fucked her?”
I take a menacing step forward. The whites of Walter’s eyes show.
A hunter steps up beside Walter, hoisting his metal stick higher in preparation. Walter manages to recover his composure, bolstered by the presence of his companion.
“We just need her. We don’t need him,” the hunter mutters under his breath. I tilt my head, puzzled by the comment. Surely the humans must know that I can hear their voices from this distance? Is their hearing truly that weak? No wonder Ariana startles so easily when I return to her; she never hears me approaching.
“If she’s dead, we need her body to take back,” the same man whispers to Walter.
I barely suppress a growl, disliking the way the human men show so little concern for my mate’s welfare.
Taking a deep breath, Walter straightens up and adjusts his shirt, smoothing the fabric against his gaunt frame. “Last chance, beast, hand over the female.”
I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You are fools if you think I will ever willingly just hand over the one I love. If you want her, you need to demand a formal challenge.”
I am not a beast, despite what Walter may think. My people have laws and traditions that are unforgivable to break. If this man believes he has a better claim on my Ariana, then I must recognize it. The only way he will ever get Ariana from me is through a formal mating challenge—and over my dead body.
The only downside is that I have no support from my own tribe in case he is a sore loser. He has far more friends than I do, and a part of me fears how they will behave should they lose in a fair fight.
Walter glares at me, hatred dripping from his eyes. He scrutinizes me, and I tense my muscles in anticipation of a fight, showing him the threat that I pose. He would be a fool to challenge me.
“Fuck it. Kill him.”
My eyes widen in shock. I had expected a sore loser, but a male with no honor at all? He would send his soldiers against me, without even raising his own hand in the fight?
Panicking, I scramble to grab my axe from my tail’s grip. The man beside Walter rushes toward me with a cry. The tip of his weapon suddenly glows blue, sending small zaps of lightning from its end. He raises the weapon high in the air and brings it down in an arc.
I deftly dodge the attack, taking advantage of the opening to move away. The weapon swooshes past my chest, the rush of air against my skin indicating just how close I am to getting hit.
Before I have a chance to react, a second man attacks me. I grip the handle of my axe just in time to block his blow. Despite his smaller size, the impact sends a vibration through my arm. I curse as I nearly lose my grip and drop my weapon.
