Chapter 9
The second D’alton walked through the door, I wanted to call him back.
A wave of panic stirred in my gut, sending sour bile up my throat. What if he got lost stumbling blindly through an icy sandstorm? What if he never returned?
A ringing started in my ears, and the plate with D’alton’s untouched slice of pie fell from my trembling grip, smashing into a hundred pieces.
My feet froze to the grated floor, and the high-pitched whine plummeted me back in time.
To sporemageddon. Crouched and shaking in a corner of the locked engine room. Alone.
So alone.
The movie I’d paused started up again, passionate grunts and groans drowning out the imagined alarm in my mind. I’m fine. He’ll be fine.
Numb, I shook out my hands, turned off the movie and walked to the narrow slot where I kept the broom and dustpan.
“Fuck,” I shouted at the ceiling before crouching to sweep up the shattered plate.
When had pushing people away become my default?
I’d seen what a life alone looked like, and it had just about done me in.
No, thank you. With C as my only companion, I’d turned into a shell of a human being.
The man who’d played with my heart when I was young, vulnerable and confused—he had forced me to build this bullshit wall to protect myself.
Long ago, Mateo’s sugar-coated words and painted-on smiles had lured me in.
“You’re so strong and handsome” had morphed into “If you cared about me, you’d want to marry me and my wife and be the father of our children.
” When I didn’t want to be part of a polyamorous relationship, the desperate tears began.
“You don’t have to marry us. We can manage on our own.
We just need your DNA to have kids.” Years later, it still hurt to discover he’d been married.
In retrospect, I didn’t blame Mateo. Earth was a mess.
One of the more sickening mandates under the Western Division’s military rule involved culling undesirable traits from the gene pool.
For those not born wealthy, a DNA test was required prior to having children.
I should’ve never been forced to donate sperm to special forces just because I had good genes. The military had messed with my head.
Dustpan forgotten, I sank to my knees. D’alton wasn’t Mateo. He wasn’t using me to have children. If anything, he was helping me. Over the last three weeks, I’d found myself smiling more than I could ever remember.
If he needed blood…I knew a perfectly good source. Though the marks were long gone, my hand fluttered over my collarbone. Whenever I touched the place where the sharp points of his fangs had pierced my skin, I shuddered.
Despite the predatory gleam in his eyes, I’d been completely under his power, lulled by the safety his embrace offered and the euphoric buzz of his bite.
But the gentle pulsing rhythm of his slow sucking against my neck had turned everything on its head.
Lust had rippled through my core, so potent I would’ve stripped naked and begged for D’alton to ruin me.
It had overwhelmed me. I’d never been at someone’s mercy like that.
Mind in shambles, I stood, massaging my knees where the sharp grate had numbed them.
I couldn’t go to him like this—pathetic and on the verge of a mental breakdown.
A distraction…a little space to regain my senses…
that would help me get my thoughts in order so I could convince him not to leave in the morning.
One quick job, then I’d go to him and offer him my body—I shook my head. My blood.
“C?” I buckled my tool belt around my waist. “Give me a tough job.”
“Good evening, Sterling Peoples. This request comes during your sleeping hours. Your proper rest and refueling is important for optimal health. Do you still wish to proceed?”
She was such a mother hen, but I shook off her well-meaning advice. “Yes. Give me something tricky but quick.” Though her worrying had saved me from myself too many times to count, the urge to jump out of my skin was growing by the second. I needed to do something, and fast.
“Very well. The overhead vent on level twenty-two is clogged. If air passage is restored, that floor can be reopened.”
Perfect. If I remembered correctly, there had been a bakery and café on that level. An image of D’alton wearing only an apron as he licked apple—I meant hanyan—pie filling off his knuckles teased my mind. I cleared my throat and straightened my tool belt. “Thanks, C.”
I forced myself from jamming my finger on level nine and going straight to D’alton, as the dings announcing each floor got closer. I needed to clear my head first. He wouldn’t be leaving till morning. I had time.
For weeks, after D’alton had left my room each evening, I’d been watching every conceivable pairing of human and alien porn I could find.
Desperate for relief, I’d jacked off to scenarios where males with wings, scales, tails and multiple limbs overpowered me.
But even when I’d focused on the Boola-human pairings, I wasn’t sure if giving up control did it for me.
Yes, the brown-skinned men, slick with sweat, got my heart racing the hardest, but did I want them to immobilize me? While they drank my blood?
Not even the tiniest bit. But D’alton pinning me down… I swallowed hard. D’alton’s fangs piercing my skin… That definitely did it for me. I shuffled to adjust my tightening balls.
What the hell was wrong with me?
The hovertube lurched to a stop, and when the doors swooshed open I stumbled backward, gagging at the stench. Where was an oxy tank when you needed one? The mask worked wonders in filtering out the scent of decomposing bodies.
I steeled myself before moving off the hovertube into the dim corridor. If dealing with dead bodies didn’t clear my mind, nothing would. With each cautious step forward, I thanked whoever was watching over me that I didn’t have to move anyone out of the way.
The signal C sent to the map on my wristport flashed brighter as I reached the point of the clog. Strip lighting flickered in and out along either side of the corridor’s floor, the same way a misfiring circuit did.
Maybe after I removed the clog, I could fix—No. A temporary distraction to clear my head was totally reasonable. Not avoidance altogether. I’d never forgive myself for letting D’alton march straight into danger, risking his life when what he needed ran through my veins.
A skittering up ahead pulled me back to the present moment. What the hell could that be? As far as I knew, no one and nothing alive had survived this hellish prison. My heart rate kicked into high gear, and I fumbled along my belt for my flashlight. “C?”
“Yes, Sterling Peoples?”
“When was the last time you scanned this floor?”
Almost dropping the flashlight, I pointed the beam down the corridor. Ahead on the gray carpet, a pile I couldn’t distinguish grabbed my attention.
“Level twenty-two has been shut down since sporemageddon, as you call it. I’ve only been monitoring shut-down floors at a maintenance level. Would you like me to complete a full scan?”
“Yes, I’d fucking like you to complete a scan,” I snapped at her. With careful steps, I walked toward the unidentified lump.
“Mind your manners, Sterling Peoples. Scan in process.”
A rancid odor burned my nostrils. The stench strengthened as I reached the source. “Fuck!” I spun around, running back toward the hovertube.
Fresh shit!
My tool belt jostled as I increased my strides, and the flickering corridor lights shut down altogether.
“Goddamn it!” The polluted air might have once belonged to dead bodies, but now the excrement of some fucking alien creature overpowered it.
I hadn’t seen one damn body since arriving on this level.
“Sterling Peoples, are you safe?”
The alarm in C’s voice had me pumping my arms faster. “Yes!” Well, for now, anyway.
“Please exit and seal the floor. A winged corpse serpent has found its way into Thermal Station C.”
Winged?
I swept the flashlight across the ceiling and looked up.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I ducked.
A gargoyle-like creature with stone claws launched itself at me. I ducked and covered my face. Its claws raked over my arms. With a haunting, loon-like screech, it swooped away, dusting me with powder.
I dropped to my knees as dizziness swamped me.
“Sterling Peoples, my sensors register no sign of you exiting level twenty-two. I must insist on your immediate evacuation. Though they are shy creatures that feed on the dead, when startled they attack.”
Tell me something I don’t know. My eyes grew heavy, and weariness pulled me under.
“Winged corpse serpents live inside volcano cones—”
That’s how the little fucker survived the Fires That Cleanse.
“—and have a quick-acting sleeping powder in their wings…”
No shit.
C’s voice filtered in and out of my consciousness. An image of D’alton shouting while a pile of pink sand buried him replaced her droning explanation. Why hadn’t I gone to him straight away? My vision faded. “C, tell D’alton not to…”