The Alien's Captive Page 5

  Anna touched her hand. “Talk to him. You’re the only one who can. Maybe if you tell him this isn’t the man you fell in love with, he’ll realize he’s crossed a line within himself. Maybe he’ll come back from the edge and realize he’s putting all our lives at risk.”

  “You don’t understand,” Penelope Ann replied. “I love him. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. I could never do anything to cross him.”

  “You can’t put your love for Aquilla ahead of what’s right,” Anna told her. “Would you risk sending your whole faction to war, just to satisfy Aquilla’s lust for revenge?”

  Penelope Ann brushed a stray wisp of golden hair out of her eyes. “It isn’t as simple as that.”

  Anna smacked her lips and went back to arranging her sleeping roll. “I’m tired of all the excuses. We both know this is wrong, and I won’t go along with it.”

  She brushed an invisible speck off her sleeping roll and flipped back the top layer. Penelope Ann stared down at it. Anna forgot she’d hidden the egg shells there. She closed her eyes as tight as she could, but they didn’t go away. They were still there when she opened them.

  “What’s this?” Penelope Ann asked.

  Anna sighed. “They’re egg shells.”

  Penelope Ann frowned. “Where did they come from?”

  Anna squared her shoulders. “They came from the stream. They’re skidhopper eggs.”

  “I can see that, but why are they in your sleeping roll?” Penelope Ann furrowed her brow. “You haven’t been sneaking eggs, have you? You know the Avitras don’t eat anything that came from animals.”

  Anna smacked her lips. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not Avitras. I never will be. I would give anything for a cheese omelet right now. Don’t tell me you’re feeling your best on this diet of rabbit food.”

  Penelope Ann’s eyes shot open. “How can you say that? The Avitras diet is the cleanest, most wholesome diet I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

  Anna shot her a wry grin. “Come on, Penelope Ann. There’s no one here but you and me. You can tell me the truth. Don’t you dream at night about a nice rib-eye steak, seared medium rare, with a side of creamy mashed potatoes dripping with butter? Don’t you dream about a roast chicken with cornbread stuffing and gravy?”

  Penelope Ann clamped her eyes shut and covered her ears. “Stop it.”

  Anna nodded. “I thought so.”

  Penelope Ann peeked at her. “That’s not reason to go sneaking skidhopper eggs and hiding them in your sleeping roll. What if the Avitras found out?”

  “I don’t care if they find out,” Anna replied. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going back to the Lycaon.”

  “You can’t do that!” Penelope Ann exclaimed.

  “I can, and I will,” Anna replied. “I made a mistake coming over to the Avitras. I know that now.”

  Penelope Ann shook her head. “Wait until I tell Aquilla. He’ll change. He’ll let Menlo go. He won’t let you go back.”

  “He has no choice in the matter,” Anna replied.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Penelope Ann told her. “I meant he won’t want you to go because of what he’s doing with Menlo. When he realizes you feel strongly enough about this to leave the Avitras, he’ll let Menlo go.”

  Anna shook her head. “It’s not just Menlo and Aquilla. I would go back to the Lycaon for the food alone. I don’t belong with the Avitras. Maybe you do, but I don’t.”

  “We can’t let this happen,” Penelope Ann insisted. “We can’t let you walk away.”

  “It’s already done,” Anna replied. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I suppose I should have found out more about the Avitras before I came to live with them.”

  Penelope Ann looked around. “Maybe when I explain the situation, we can work out some way for you to collect your own food from the forest.”

  “Where would I cook it?” Anna asked. “No, it wouldn’t work. I was wrong about the Avitras, and it took Aquilla capturing Menlo and bringing him here for me to realize that. I never belonged here, and I won’t stay here.”

  “What are you going to do?” Penelope Ann asked. “When will you leave?”

  Anna glanced around the room. “I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out a way to get back to Lycaon territory. Maybe Piwaka will help me find my way.”

  Penelope Ann’s head shot up, and her blue eyes widened. “These eggs.....they weren’t for you at all, were they?”

  Anna turned bright red. “What are you talking about?”

  Penelope Ann dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper. “You got these eggs for Menlo, didn’t you? You smuggled them to him in the store room.”

  Anna’s cheeks burned. She had no choice but to look away. “I told you I ate them.”

  “You never told me anything of the kind,” Penelope Ann shot back. “I said it, and you didn’t deny it. You let me believe they were for you to hide the truth. You’ve been smuggling food to Menlo while Aquilla’s back is turned.”

  Anna raised her eyes to Penelope Ann’s face. “How did you figure that out?”

  Penelope Ann stared down at the eggs. “I don’t know. Something in the way you said you weren’t sure when you would leave told me you wanted to stay until you knew Menlo was safe.”

  “Can you blame me?” Anna asked. “I don’t know how you can stand to watch Aquilla mistreat an innocent man without doing something to stop him. All I did was give him something to eat so he could put up with the abuse a little bit better. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it,” Penelope Ann told her. “Aquilla already told you to leave Menlo alone.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” Anna asked.

  Penelope Ann shook her head. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Aquilla is Alpha of our faction, and he’s my mate. In a way, you’re asking me to betray Aquilla instead of you.”

  “You know I only did what was right,” Anna replied. “Aquilla’s gone off the deep end with this vendetta of his, and he could wind up dragging the Avitras and the Ursidreans into another war.”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what Menlo wants,” Penelope Ann shot back. “That’s why he keeps his information to himself.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Anna countered. “You know as well as I do he keeps it to himself to keep the peace. If he told Aquilla what he wanted to know, Aquilla would never stop until he murdered the man who killed his brother, and the Ursidrean Alpha would have no choice but to launch an attack in revenge for that killing.”

  Penelope Ann turned away. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.” Anna finished straightening her sleeping roll and collected the egg shells into a pile. “Even Piwaka won’t go along with Aquilla’s insane plan to hold Menlo for ransom.”

  Penelope Ann pulled her hand away. “I don’t know. I should tell Aquilla about this. I shouldn’t keep this a secret from him.”

  Anna leaned forward, but she dared not touch Penelope Ann again. “At least wait a few more days before you tell him. Give me a chance to figure out what to do about Menlo.”

  “You don’t have to do anything about Menlo,” Penelope Ann replied. “Aquilla will handle him.”

  Anna stood up and faced the woman she once considered a friend. “Don’t tell him. Search your heart. You know he’s out of his mind, and helping Menlo is the right thing to do.”

  Penelope Ann shook her head one last time and turned away. “I don’t know.” She walked across the room and vanished into her bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  Anna sat on the couch and listened. The sounds of the village died away into the dark. Aquilla’s voice answering Penelope Ann in the next room faded and died, too. Was Penelope Ann in there right now, telling Aquilla that Anna brought Menlo those skidhopper eggs to eat?

  How much longer did she have before Aquilla barged out of the room to confront her? The light changed from golden to green to royal blue, and the brilliant yellow An
gondran aurora lit up the sky. Then the soft buzz of Aquilla’s snoring reverberated through the wall. He wasn’t coming to confront her any time soon. Penelope Ann must have kept the eggs secret.

  Anna let out a long breath, but she couldn’t relax. She paced around the room, but she only wound up pacing toward the store room. Was Menlo asleep? She paced around again and stopped by the door again. What harm could it do if she just looked in to check on him? Then she had an idea. She stuffed a box from under the counter into her pocket, took up the lamp in one hand, and ducked out the door.

  She lifted the bar off the store room door as quietly as she could. Lamplight flooded the store room, and Menlo squinted up into it. “It’s only me. It’s Anna.”

  He slumped back on the floor. His composure vanished from his face, and the despair he hid so well in front of Aquilla darkened his eye. “I’m not hungry.”

  Anna’s heart melted. She shut the door behind her and thanked heaven the store room had no windows. She set the lamp on the floor and sat down in front of Menlo. “I didn’t bring you any more food. I don’t know when I’ll be able to find any more, but I’ll keep looking. But I brought you something else.”

  He didn’t look up. “Is it a weapon of some kind?”

  She smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then it’s no good to me,” he grumbled. “You better go back inside and go to bed.”

  She pulled the box out of her pocket. “You might find this useful. It’s a medicinal salve. It will kill the pain in your wounds so you can get some sleep.”

  He turned away. “I won’t be able to sleep with my hands tied like this.”

  Anna set the box down. “Come here and I’ll untie you.”

  “Don’t bother,” he snapped. “You’ll only have to tie me up again before you leave, and I’ll be in the same predicament as before. Why don’t you leave me alone? I can handle this by myself.”

  She sighed. “Come on, Menlo. Let me help you. I’ll untie you now, and you can rest your hands until I leave. The salve will make you feel better, and if you like, I can stay while you get some sleep.”

  He grunted and turned away.

  She studied him. “You’re exhausted. That’s why your patience is wearing thin.”

  She got up on her knees and untied him. Then she opened the box. He jerked his head away when she tried to rub the salve on his forehead, but she persisted until he gave up and let her do it.

  “There.” She sat down and scraped the remaining salve off her finger. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

  He stole a glance at her. “You’re right. It kills the pain.”

  She burst into a smile. “What about your wrists? Would you like to rub some on them?”

  He hesitated. Then he held out his hand. “You do it.”

  She couldn’t help but smile again. She cradled his hand in hers and rubbed the salve into the purple line around his wrist. When she finished, he offered her the other one. “You really know how to make Aquilla mad.”

  “He’s mad enough already,” Menlo muttered.

  Anna chuckled. “You gave perfect answers during your interview. Piwaka is defending you now. Aquilla won’t be able to keep you much longer.”

  “He’ll keep me as long as he wants,” Menlo returned. “He won’t let me go until he gets his revenge.”

  “He can’t exactly revenge himself on you,” Anna replied. “You don’t know who killed his brother, and he won’t find out by torturing you.”

  Menlo’s head shot up. Then his shoulders slumped. “This is the second time you’ve done me a good turn, Anna. I feel honor-bound to return the favor.”

  “What do you mean?” Anna asked.

  “I lied to him,” he replied. “I do know who killed his brother.”

  Anna’s jaw dropped. “You do? How could you? You said you were only a foot soldier in the war. How could you know who was the division commander along the Eastern Divide?”

  He must have been feeling better, because he smiled. “Everyone in that war knew where the Eastern Divide was. It’s the main border feature between our two territories. I would have to be dead not to know where it was. And I know who the division commander was because I served under him. I fought with him along the Divide, and I was there when he killed the Avitras Alpha. Aquilla’s brother Erius was Alpha before him.”

  Anna stared at him. “Then why did you lie? Why don’t you tell Aquilla what he wants to know and save yourself all this trouble?”

  He gazed into her eyes. “You really care about what happens to me, don’t you? I wasn’t expecting that, even from you. I lied because, the moment Aquilla finds out who killed his brother, he’ll get rid of me.”

  “He’ll.....get rid of you how?” Anna asked.

  “He’ll kill me,” Menlo replied. “Once he knows the identity of the killer, he won’t need me anymore.”

  “But that would spark a war with the Ursidreans,” Anna pointed out. “He wouldn’t want to risk that.”

  “He doesn’t care if he sparks a war,” Menlo replied. “All he cares about is getting his revenge. In fact, sparking a war is exactly what he wants to do. Then the man who killed his brother will have to cross the border to fight it. He’ll have to come to Aquilla instead of Aquilla having to go find him somewhere. It all fits in with his plan.”

  Anna’s head fell into her palm. “This is terrible. This is the worst thing that could possibly happen. What if he keeps attacking you until he finds out the truth? It would be better if you didn’t know anything. Then he couldn’t force you to tell him.”

  Menlo shook his head. “He won’t stop, and eventually, I’ll have to tell him what I know.”

  “What about your Alpha?” Anna asked. “When he finds out you’ve been taken prisoner, he’ll come for you.”

  “That’s exactly what Aquilla wants,” Menlo replied. “The sooner our factions go to war, the happier he’ll be.”

  “What are we going to do?” Anna cried.

  Menlo looked down at his hand still cradled in hers. All of a sudden, she became aware of her skin touching his. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  She pulled her hand back. “We can’t just sit around waiting for disaster to strike. We have to do something.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  Anna opened her mouth. Then she shut it again. “I don’t know.”

  He took her hand again, and this time, he cradled her hand in his. The salve radiated its heat into her fingers. “You’ve already done more than any one person could be expected to do under the circumstances. You should be careful not to endanger yourself any more than you already have.”

  This time, she forgot to pull her hand back. “I’m not in danger.”

  “You’re in more danger than you realize,” he told her. “Aquilla won’t let anyone stand in his way, and you aren’t even Avitras. What are you to him? You’re a stranger. He won’t hesitate to get rid of you, too, especially when he figures out you’ve been helping me.”

  Penelope Ann flashed through Anna’s mind. How long could she hold out before she broke down and told Aquilla that Anna was helping Menlo? Anna always counted on Penelope Ann to help her settle into Avitras territory, but she couldn’t count on her now.

  Her mind swept over the village, and the people Penelope Ann introduced her to. She’d come to consider some of them friends, but now they might as well have been a thousand miles away. She wouldn’t trust one of them to help her. None of them would cross Aquilla.

  She looked up to find Menlo studying her. “What’s on your mind?”

  She shook her head, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. His eyes searched her heart. He already knew without her telling him. “Nothing. I guess I’m just tired.”

  “You should go to bed,” he told her. “Tomorrow’s another long day.”

  “It won’t be as long for me as it will be for you,” she replied. “Why don’t you lie down and get some sleep? I’ll watch until you wake up. That way, I won’t have to ti
e your hands again until I leave in the morning.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too risky. You should leave now while you have a chance.”

  She didn’t budge. “This could be your only chance to get some good sleep. You should take it while you can.”

  He cast a sidelong glance at the rope lying on the floor. This time, Anna read his mind. He dreaded her retying his hands behind his back. She didn’t have to argue to convince him. “Lie down. Here. Put your head on my lap. You’ll be more comfortable that way.”

  His head shot up, and his eyes drilled into her soul, but he didn’t argue. He sighed and laid down. The instant his shaggy head came to rest on her leg, he closed his eyes and his breathing lengthened and deepened. He was more exhausted than either of them let themselves believe. In a moment, a steady purr rumbled up from his throat and he fell asleep.

  Anna’s hand hovered in mid-air above his head. Then she moved it down to his shoulder, but she didn’t dare let it fall. She wouldn’t let herself take the last final step across the line between them.

  She imagined running her fingers through his hair. She rubbed the soreness out of his shoulders and massaged his neck. But in reality, she didn’t touch him. He needed sleep, and she would sit up all night and guard him while he got it, but she couldn’t touch him the way she wanted to. He was a prisoner. He had to hold himself on guard.

  She sat all night and watched him sleep. He fell into a bottomless pit of exhaustion and never stirred. Her feet and legs went numb from sitting still so long, and he didn’t rouse even when she shifted her weight to let the blood flow back into them.

  Every time fear seized her and commanded her to run for her life, one glance down at his sleeping face convinced her to sit still. His ordeal was so much harder than hers. The risk she took helping him was nothing compared to his danger. He needed rest more than anything right now, and she could endure some discomfort, for one night at least, to make sure he got it.

  The faintest streak of morning light peeked under the store room door before she let her hand fall on his shoulder. “Menlo, it’s time to wake up.”