Alien Mischief Read online

  No joke. He could have died out there. His body might not have been found until the Thaw. “What happened?” I said.

  “I couldn’t see because of the snow. I stepped in a hole. My ankle twisted, I heard a pop, and I went down. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t put any weight on my ankle.”

  “Was that how you missed the ship?”

  His eyes flashed. “No. The damn ship launched without me! It didn’t wait for me. I was trying to make it to the lodge when I fell.” His shoulders slumped. “Now, I’m stuck in this frozen hellhole until the next ship arrives.” He looked at me sheepishly. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I get tired of the ice and snow, too. For someone unprepared, it could be overwhelming—and dangerous.”

  “I can take care of myself!”

  Uh-huh. That’s why I’d found him lying in the landing field during a blizzard. I didn’t wish to embarrass him, but I couldn’t help it. I snorted.

  “This was an unusual occurrence! I do quite well on Terra.”

  “This isn’t Terra.”

  “You don’t need to tell me!” He huffed. “How long before the next mining or supply ship arrives?”

  “Mining ship? I don’t know because Terra doesn’t inform us of the schedule. Generally, one arrives about every three months—however one left a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, great.”

  “We get supply ships a couple of times a year. Andrea Simmons, who arrived in the very first group of females, submits our requests for supplies. She also handles communications with Earth, so she might be able to contact your ship.”

  “She can?” Madison sat up straight. “Now?”

  I shook my head. “We can’t go anywhere until the blizzard abates. Once it does, I can ride to her camp and ask her to message your ship.”

  “How long will the storm last?”

  “Probably a couple of days—although it might break for a short period. Without a skimmer, there wouldn’t be enough time to get to her camp. Having the healer examine your ankle is the first priority.”

  “Nothing can be done for two days?”

  “Longer, maybe. Atmospheric interference can linger after a storm, preventing us from sending or receiving messages.”

  “By then, the ship will be so far away, the captain wouldn’t even consider returning for me,” he said glumly.

  “I’ll do what I can to get you home, but you might need to resign yourself to being stuck here for a while.”

  Chapter Five

  Madison

  Stranded on an icy alien planet. Could the situation get any worse?

  “You should remove your wet clothing,” Enoki said.

  Why, yes. Yes, it could.

  I huddled under his kel coat. My shirt and pants felt clammy against my skin, but no way could I strip to my damp underwear in front of him. Nervously, I reached up to tuck nonexistent hair behind my ears then dropped my hand into my lap. “I’m all right.”

  Enoki shot me a doubtful glance and strode to a wooden chest I hadn’t noticed because I’d been focused on the relief I wasn’t going to die. Talk about a close call! If he hadn’t found me when he had…

  “Thank you,” I said. “You saved my life.”

  When the SS Masquerade took off without me, I’d been horrified, but not afraid—until I’d tried to march to the lodge, twisted my ankle, and couldn’t walk. Then I panicked. I’d screamed and screamed until I gotten hoarse and my throat hurt. I couldn’t see more than a half-dozen feet in front of my face. I’d lain there getting colder and colder. When I’d heard someone yell “shut up,” I’d put all my remaining energy stores into calling for help.

  “Thank the Fates I did find you. You would have died,” he said gruffly.

  “Who were you shouting at?” I asked with a frown.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard you yell, ‘Shut up. Shut the Fates up.’”

  “Nobody.” He ducked his head to rummage through the chest.

  I focused on the flex of his muscles, his economy of motion. He moved smoothly for someone so huge. He was probably the sexiest man—alien or human—I’d met in my life, and I was stranded with him.

  “I have to wrap your ankle, get you some dry garments, a kel, and boots. I’ll go outside for ice.”

  Common words about practical business spoken in a gravelly, rumbling voice. My stomach fluttered.

  “Was somebody with you there?” I persisted. I didn’t mean to be nosy—well, I kind of did—because nobody yelled “shut up” unless they were with somebody who needed to stop talking. However, Enoki had been alone when he’d found me. Had the other person left?

  “Just me.” He shook out a buckskin tunic and leggings, a smaller replica of what he wore—what they all wore. The Dakonians used the same tailor apparently. “These should fit you,” he said.

  “I can’t take somebody else’s clothes,” I said.

  “The garments are for use in an emergency—for which this qualifies. Normally, we’d leave yours in trade, but they won’t do anybody any good.”

  He’d dissed my clothing! “My clothes are scientifically advanced cold-weather gear.”

  “Did they keep you warm and dry?” he asked.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  I pressed my lips together. I’d had a point. I just couldn’t remember it. He’d gotten me all muddled. Without his bulky dry and warm kel, he was all muscle, big and brawny, his shoulders as wide as a beam, his legs stout and sturdy, his biceps and pecs a sculpted work of masculine perfection. I’d bet he could bench-press a skimmer. Or maybe he did. A guy didn’t get a body like that by hibernating.

  “Put these on.” He tossed the clothing at me then motioned. “Give me my kel.”

  Of course, he’d need his coat. I held it out reluctantly, scrambling for a plausible reason why I couldn’t strip down, but he shrugged into the kel, and pulled up the hood.

  The illuvian heater blasted away, but my clothes were damper than I’d realized, and without his kel, the chill hit me again. My hair and neck were wet from melted snow.

  “There’s nothing in the chest to wrap your ankle with, and I need to get you a kel and some boots. I’ll check the trading post and larder and get some ice for your ankle. We need to reduce the swelling.”

  “You’re going out there now? Maybe you should wait until morning.” What if he got lost? It was pure luck I’d headed toward the lodge and not away from it. I’d lost all sense of direction in the whiteout.

  “If the storm doesn’t pass, by morning it will be much worse,” he said. “I’ll return soon. Promise.”

  “Be careful. Be safe,” I said.

  “I won’t be gone long.” He flicked his gaze to my ankle. “Stay off that foot!” Drifted snow spilled into the hut, and frigid air swirled as he yanked the door open. He left.

  Clutching the borrowed kel garments to my chest, I hobbled onto my good leg.

  If Enoki perished, I’d never forgive myself.

  He’ll be okay. He’s a native. A hardy, muscular, masculine native. And he’d promised.

  I sensed he was a man of his word, but some matters were out of one’s control. Like the weather.

  Like being marooned.

  My situation was about to get complicated.

  Some women might capitalize on being stranded with a hot, sexy horned alien with a chiseled jaw, black hair to his shoulders, dark piercing eyes, and an utterly ripped bod completing the package. A significant package, I’d noticed.

  Yes, I’d checked him out. However, I stopped at ogling. Despite the fantasies I may have had about him—and I wasn’t admitting to anything—I had no intention of hooking up with an alien living millions of miles away from Earth on a primitive, frozen wasteland. Enoki defined geographically undesirable.

  Dakon had illuvian heaters because we gave them to them. They still lit fires in the lodg
e! The “beds” in this hut were piles of animal furs tossed on a dirt floor. I mean, come on.

  A hot alien couldn’t compensate for cold, inhospitable living conditions.

  And Enoki had shown no interest in me. He’d bought the man disguise, and there was no reason to enlighten him because, as soon as I could, I was getting off this planet.

  Better hustle into dry clothes. If he caught me with my pants down, well, there would be some explaining to do. First, I had to take care of business. I had no idea how I would manage to do that in his presence.

  Clutching and pushing the chair as a walker, I hobbled to a clay vessel I assumed was a chamber pot. Have you ever tried to squat on one leg? Can’t be done. Finally, I figured out I could place the pot on the chair and sit on it.

  Business completed, I moved the pot to the floor then sat on the chair to peel off my sodden snow pants and khakis, and don the buckskin leggings. Enoki’s had molded him like a second skin, which I guess, technically they were, but mine sagged on my thighs and calves and puddled at my feet. I rolled up the legs, relieved to cover my bottom half with its missing manly equipment. The migrating socks had been hard enough to explain.

  I’d felt it slipping as I’d left the ship and hiked to the lodge, but there was nothing I could do about it, and then I had bigger matters to worry about. Like staying alive.

  I guess I’d carried the disguise a little too far. My brother always had said I never knew when to quit. On the positive side, at least I had a spare pair of socks. Everything else was on the ship headed to Terra.

  My family would freak when the SS Masquerade docked, and I didn’t disembark. How long would it take before someone on the crew realized I’d missed the ship? I’d listed my parents as my emergency contacts in my personnel file, but would anybody from the exchange program bother to notify them?

  Stay positive. Hopefully, that Andrea woman could help. If the SS Masquerade wouldn’t come get me, maybe I could hitch a ride on another ship. I’d bunk down in the cargo hold if I had to. Get me home!

  I pulled my clingy, damp shirt over my head and draped it on the chair to dry. Wet, the compression band had started to chafe. Did I dare take it off? I examined the soft, supple buckskin-like tunic Enoki had given me to wear. A couple of sizes too large, it would fit like a nightshirt. I wasn’t super endowed anyway, and I’d be under the kels. By morning, my own shirt would be dry, and I could wear it underneath the tunic. Maybe I could get away without the band?

  On the ship, it would have been impossible. Women complained of men leering at them, but nobody scrutinized a woman like another woman checking out the competition. Those women on the SS Masquerade had noticed everything.

  I wiggled out of the band, my nipples beading as the still-cool air hit. Quickly, I pulled the tunic over my head. It fit loosely, as I’d predicted, hanging to my knees, but in the cold, my nipples tented the animal hide. Way too obvious. I had to wear the compression band.

  I started to remove the tunic when I heard stomping outside the hut. I dove onto the bed, rolled, and scrambled underneath the layers of animal skins as the door opened.

  Covered in white from head to toe like an abominable snowman, Enoki entered on a blast of icy cold. Through a trick of the light, his horns seemed to twitch as he zeroed in on me in the bed. “I told you not to move around.” Arms laden, he kicked the door shut with his snow-crusted boot.

  “I got cold.” I pulled the animal fur up to my chin.

  He set his load on the table and surveyed the hut. I could see him noticing the full chamber pot, my discarded clothing. He plucked the compression band from the chair. “What’s this?”

  A perfect example of an unmentionable. “It’s an…uh, undergarment? For extra warmth?”

  He snorted and tossed it on the chair. “Do you Terrans know anything about how to dress for cold?”

  “Very little,” I said, relieved he’d accepted my flimsy explanation. “Although in my defense, I wasn’t expecting to spend much time on Dakon.”

  “I’ll concede the point—although in general, one should always be prepared.” He undid the toggles and slipped off his coat, tossing it over another chair. “I got you a kel”—he held up a smaller, though still voluminous animal fur—“a pair of boots I think will fit, an extra kel hide for bindings, and some extra rations.”

  “What’s in the jugs?” I eyed the two clay vessels he’d brought in with the rest of the stuff.

  “Ale in that one. I stopped at the tavern.” He motioned to a pitcher then lifted the lid off a jar. “I collected ice in this one.”

  “How did you get ice?” I doubted Dakon had a machine. Did he have to chop it out of a frozen river?

  “Broke it off the roof.” He pulled out an icicle. Ingenious. The Dakonians were clever. Need ice—snap off the mini stalactites under the eaves of a stone hut. He dropped the shard into the jar and closed the lid. “I’ll need to wrap the ice before applying it to your ankle. I can cut off a square from the extra hide I brought.”

  “Why don’t we use my shirt?” I suggested. “It’s already damp.” And inadequate for warmth or protection anyway.

  Apparently he liked my idea, because he broke some icicles into smaller pieces and packed them into my shirt, folded it into a sack, and tied it closed with the sleeves.

  “Let’s check the ankle.” He peeled back the animal fur, and I rose up on my elbows so I could watch.

  “I really don’t think you broke it,” he reiterated as he probed the joints of both ankles with a gentle but impersonal touch. My skin tingled, and my stomach fluttered. Get a grip, Madison. My cheeks flooded with heat as if the illuvian heater had cranked to full blast. I hoped he hadn’t noticed my reaction. That would be too embarrassing. I peeked at his face but saw no reaction from him, other than his horns seemed swollen. I stared. Were they vibrating?

  “Your horns—do they always pulse like that?”

  He jerked as if I’d slapped him. Saying nothing, he grabbed a kel hide scrap, and, extracting his knife, sawed off a strip. A muscle twitched in his reddening cheeks.

  Okay…so I’d said something inappropriate. I scooted backward and sat up, leaning against the wall. “Why are you cutting that?”

  “I’ll bind your ankle with this later.” He tossed the strip on the table, rolled the hide into a pillow, and then not roughly, but not gently, either, shoved the wad underneath my foot, and slapped the ice pack on my ankle.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry.” Enoki flipped the covers over my feet and stood. My stomach fluttered at how the gruffness deepened his already-gravelly tone. What was wrong with me? He’d become terse after I offended him, and I was finding his voice a turn-on?

  I hadn’t been attracted to anybody since Matt passed, my libido dying with him. Now it wakes up? Sexual attraction to my alien rescuer was the last thing I needed.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, still not looking at me.

  No, but maybe eating together would refocus my attention. “A little.”

  “The larder was better stocked than this hut,” he said in a stilted voice. “We have smoked kel, dehydrated fruit, and dry macha.” His back to me, he set the food on the table. I’d gotten the cold shoulder enough times to recognize avoidance. How was I supposed to know mentioning horns was considered impolite? I mean, they were sticking right out there for everyone to see! If I apologized, wouldn’t that call attention to the faux pas again? Kind of like dancing with a guy and noticing he’d gotten a hard-on. Hey, sorry I noticed your erection.

  “Looks like a picnic,” I said with false cheerfulness. “All that’s missing is a bottle of wine.”

  “We have ale.” He raised a jug. “Would you care for some?”

  “Yes, please.” Anything to erase the awkwardness and restore the companionship.

  He filled a mug, which he shoved into my outstretched hand. The brew smelled yeasty, but with a pleasant fruity undertone. I took a hearty gulp and cho
ked. What smelled like berries tasted like fermented sewer water. I screwed up my face and forced myself to swallow it.

  I set the mug on the floor. If that was the ale, what would the smoked kel taste like? Ugh. My mouth drooped. I could still taste the ickiness.

  He grabbed a wooden plate from a shelf and tossed some beef jerky-like chunks onto it, along with some wrinkled crescents I guessed was fruit, and some cracker-biscuit hockey pucks, and handed it to me before preparing a plate for himself.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Not everyone likes our ale. Most of the Earth females don’t.”

  “I meant for mentioning your horns. I didn’t know it was taboo. I’m also sorry for missing the ship, for getting hurt, and forcing you to tend to me.” When I listed it out, it seemed like a lot. Glumly, I bit into the macha to eradicate the nastiness in my mouth. While the cracker didn’t taste bad, it was hard enough to chip a tooth. Fortunately, I didn’t.

  Enoki sighed. “You did nothing wrong.” He shrugged. “I apologize for my surliness.” He knocked back a gulp of ale without a flinch.

  I guess it was an acquired taste.

  With his teeth, he tore off a chunk of smoked kel and chewed.

  Hesitantly, I copied him, and nibbled on a piece of the smoked meat, deciding the flavor compared to a gamey cross between beef and ostrich. The fruit tasted like a spicy apple-pear-banana-peach.

  Enoki swallowed. “Why do you do this?”

  “Why do I do what?”

  “Travel between Dakon and Earth.”

  “It’s a job. It pays well.” I shrugged.

  “That’s right.” He nodded. “Terrans operate on a monetary system.”

  “Yeah. It’s all electronic, though. Only criminals use cash money.” I tilted my head. “Dakon doesn’t have money?”

  “No. We’re self-sufficient and produce whatever we need to survive. Some have exceptional skills in a craft like bowing, fletching, weaving, hide tanning, pottery-making, and their wares are highly sought after. We trade for things we don’t have. Surpluses go to the trading post or the larder for emergencies.