Chapter 2
TWO
Today was the day, Samantha decided, that she would venture out into this new, amazing world in search of work. The day she would start her new life. Nothing would stand in her way.
Well, nothing except her apartment door.
And her jerk of a neighbor.
And her own damn anxiety and fear.
Samantha clenched her fists at her sides and stared at the first of her obstacles. The metal door stared back at Sam, mocking, taunting, and tormenting her. It spoke in her mind in a cruel, familiar voice.
You’re worthless. Weak. That’s all you’ll ever be. I protect you. You need me.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
No, I don’t.
Samantha drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “You can do this, Sam. Just one slap of the button and you’re done. Door open. Easy.”
The door glared at her.
She glared back .
I can do this.
Squaring her shoulders, she strode forward and swung her hand up.
Her hand stopped mere centimeters away from the button, trembling as dread chilled her from the inside.
What if Rakkob was waiting for her in the hall?
Samantha carefully pressed her ear to the door, closed her eyes, and held her breath. She heard nothing from the hallway, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t home, didn’t mean he wasn’t out there. The beating of her own heart steadily loudened to fill the relative silence.
She’d only encountered her borian neighbor—a large, powerfully built male with long, elf-like ears—once face-to-face. It had been two days ago, when she’d first moved into her unit. The same day she’d arrived on Arthos.
Since then, Rakkob had come to her door several times. He’d attempted to coax her out, calling her little terran and trying to sound sweet, but he’d resort to pounding on the door and demanding she come out when she didn’t respond to his coaxing.
During those times, Samantha had cowered in her bathroom, wondering why she’d come to the Infinite City. This was supposed to be a new start, a safe start, and she’d yet to feel safe here. She felt foolish to have left everything she’d known to come to this wholly alien place.
But this was the farthest she could get from Earth, and it wasn’t like she’d had the luxury of time to plan. She’d only had time to act.
Beneath her fear ran the knowledge that she couldn’t hide in her apartment forever. The residence had been provided by the Consortium—the group of alien species who ruled Arthos—as part of their immigration policy, and the United Terran Federation’s Emigration Assistance Initiative had arranged for a monthly credit allowance to pay for her necessities. But both were temporary. The support was guaranteed for only one year.
The only thing Samantha currently had to her name was the bag of personal belongings she brought from Earth. The UTF’s Emigration Assistance Initiative had allowed for more, but she hadn’t owned anything else. She was completely dependent on governmental support for now; they would ensure she could buy food and clothing for herself, and she was a registered citizen, meaning she could find work, but all of that was only attainable outside the damned door !
Before she could think on it any longer, she hit the button and ducked aside, flattening herself against the wall.
The door slid open.
After a few seconds of silence, she peered around the doorframe. The door across the hall—Rakkob’s door—was closed. She leaned out and looked up and down the corridor.
Empty.
Releasing a relieved breath, Samantha slipped out of her room, waved her wrist in front of the scanner on the wall—which was programmed to respond only to her Consortium-implanted identification chip—and hurried down the hallway once her door was closed.
Her anxiety grew when she entered the elevator, which was not empty. She eased to the back, nestling herself in the corner with shoulders hunched and head bowed as aliens entered and exited on almost every one of the twenty floors on the way to ground level. Some were silent, others chatty and boisterous, and several stared at Sam curiously when they noticed her.
She wiped her sweat-dampened palms on her pants. She’d never been surrounded by such a diverse crowd. Several alien species had become commonplace on Earth—primarily volturians, azhera, vorgals, and borians—but there were more peoples on Arthos than she could count. They were all so different from each other, so different from her, that she couldn’t help but feel as though she were the strange one.
Once the elevator finally reached the ground floor, Sam quietly followed the large group into the lobby and proceeded out onto the Undercity streets. It was by far the most unusual place she’d ever been—not that she’d traveled very far from her hometown before this—and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it. Everything was enclosed here. There was no sky, no clouds, no moon or stars, only an uneven ceiling riddled with catwalks and supports high overhead. Day and night didn’t exist here; the Undercity ran nonstop, never slowing, never quieting.
The city above the surface was just as busy, but at least there was a sky and natural light up there. The Undercity was lit primarily by neon lights and pulsing holograms. She’d never thought she would miss the sun—her pale complexion was a clear indicator of her lack of a relationship with it—but she had a feeling she would grow desperate for its warmth after long enough down here.
Samantha did her best to study her surroundings, noting anything particularly unusual she could rely on as a landmark. Though her breathing had eased since leaving the tight confines of the apartment complex, her anxiety had not. It would be so easy to get lost in the crowd, so easy to vanish; there were many beings near her size or smaller, and many, many more who were big enough to make her feel like a child.
She eventually worked her way through the flow of bodies to reach the outskirts of the crowd. The streets were lined with food stands, merchant booths, and storefronts. Standing on her toes, she strained to see over the heads and shoulders of the nearby aliens and get a better idea of her surroundings. It all seemed so big, so impossible; a dark shroud of doubt settled over her mind.
No, I can do this. I just…just need to go talk to people.
Sam approached a booth with shelves of footwear on display, seeking out the owner, who she assumed was the dacrethian kneeling before a volturian male, holding a pair of shoes in each of his four hands.
Samantha cleared her throat. “Um, hello?”
The dacrethian and the volturian continued their conversation without acknowledging her. They probably hadn’t even heard her meek voice considering all the noise from the bustling street.
Sam brought her hands up to her middle and nervously clasped her fingers together.
“Hello?” she said a little louder.
Their conversation ceased. The volturian lifted his faintly glowing blue eyes to meet Samantha’s; there was only coldness in his gaze.
The dacrethian twisted his torso to look at her and said in Universal Speech, “Yes?”
Samantha swallowed and forced a smile. “Hi. I was…wondering if you were hiring?”
The dacrethian’s gaze dipped to trail over her body before returning to her eyes. “No.”
He turned back toward the volturian.
“Nothing?” Sam asked. “I don’t mind doing tedious jobs. I—”
“Are you here to buy?” the dacrethian asked.
Sam frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “No. I’m look—”
“Then leave.”
Ouch. Guess I’m dismissed.
The volturian, now smirking, stared at her a moment longer before looking down at the shoes the dacrethian presented to him.
With a sigh, Samantha left the booth and returned to the crowd.
She visited a long string of shops and booths. Despite the diversity of their wares and operators, most of the people she spoke with reacted similarly—they gave her a once-over, found her somehow lacking, and sent her away.
Her discouragement was so deep that she was caught completely off-guard when someone said in a deep voice, “I can put you to work, terran.”
Samantha’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned to find a bulky, shirtless vorgal with black, moving tattoos depicting various beasts looking at her.
A swell of hopefulness spread through Sam’s chest. “Really?”
He smiled, drawing her attention to the short tusks jutting up from his lower jaw, and nodded.
Sam’s stomach sank when she looked past the vorgal; the door behind him was unmarked and dingy, with faded graffiti on its face, surrounded by similarly grungy walls. She lifted her gaze to see a holographic image projected over the doorway—a naked, dancing volturian female. As the dancer went through her motions, her body morphed, cycling through various species, all nude, all undulating to the dull beat thumping from behind the door.
“Oh.” Samantha returned her attention to the vorgal and offered him an uneasy smile, retreating with her hands up and palms facing him. “No. No, that’s okay. Thank you though. That’s uh…not really the kind of work I’m looking for.”
“A terran would make good credits. More if she takes cock.” The leering vorgal stepped toward her, reaching out with one hand. “Why don’t we see what you— ”
She leapt away as though his hand was aflame. “No!”
Her back slammed into something hard. It took her an instant to realize it was a person—a purple-skinned tralix who was three times as wide as her and at least a meter taller.
Before Sam could utter an apology, the tralix spun toward her.
“Watch it!” he snarled, swinging an arm as thick as a tree trunk.
The action reminded Samantha of how someone would move when swatting at an annoying insect. Unfortunately, she was the insect in this case. His arm struck her with enough power knock her off her feet. She hit several other people on her way down, getting spun around and disoriented in the process.
She cried out in pain as her hands and knees struck the concrete. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Shakily, she lifted her hand and turned it. Her palm was scraped, with droplets of blood oozing from the torn flesh.
A heavy foot came down on her leg. Samantha cried out again, struggling to stand. Before she could get her footing, someone bumped into her, sending her sprawling back to the ground. Reflexively, she drew her limbs inward in a desperate attempt to protect herself. The crowd rushed around her in an endless stream, none of them caring about Sam or her predicament as they bumped, kicked, and stepped on her.
Trampled to death on an alien planet. Not how I thought I’d go.
A hand closed around her wrist in a powerful but not painful grip. Before she understood what was happening, the hand yanked her up. Her legs wobbled, unwilling to accept her weight, and she felt herself falling again.
She was stopped when a solid arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close to the alien to whom it belonged .
“This is why I avoid going out,” said a deep, smooth voice very near her ear. “So few decent people in this city.”
Samantha threw her arms around the male, clutching tight in fear she’d get swallowed up by the crowd once more. He was slightly stooped, leaving her looking over his shoulder and unable to get a glimpse of his face. But she certainly felt his body; he was dressed in a black, silken garment that lay in a thin layer over the hard sculpted muscle of his torso.
And his scent? It reminded her of sandalwood, woodsy and sweet, at once comfortingly familiar and enticingly exotic. Unable to help herself, she tightened her arms around him and inhaled, drawing in his smell to fight back the pervading stench of too many bodies crammed into too small a space.
Her mysterious savior lifted Sam off her feet and carried her toward the edge of the crowd, shoving people aside with his free arm as he moved. He showed them as little regard as they’d shown her. As mean as it was, she took satisfaction in it. Finally, they emerged from the flow of alien bodies, and he stopped in the entryway of a wide alley.
“Are you all right, little terran?”
“…little terran?” Samantha blinked away the moisture in her eyes. A strange haze had settled over her mind. Was she all right? Only a moment ago, she’d been sure she was about to die, but then she’d been picked up by strong arms and enveloped in the most delicious scent. “I…think so. Thank you. For saving me.”
“No need for thanks.” He eased Sam onto her feet. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Samantha took a step back to look up at her savior. Her breath hitched, and her eyes flared. Her gaze met not two eyes, but three , all a luminous yellow with slitted pupils. They were utterly alien and utterly captivating—especially the one in the center of his forehead, which was turned vertically. Dark, slashing eyebrows rested above his other two eyes, leading to a straight, sharp nose, and full, sculpted lips. His dark gray skin was contrasted by glowing yellow tattoos on his face and neck—angular, flowing lines on the left side of his face, including a crescent around his left eye. There were smaller marks on his lower lip and chin. His ears were long and pointed with identical piercings—a loop and three studs—in each one.
Her gaze flicked up to the pair of dark, curved horns at his temples, which swept back from his face. His long black hair hung around his muscular shoulders, some of it arranged in thin braids, with a shorter portion swept to one side of his face. Her eyes dipped lower. His silken robe was reminiscent of a kimono. The garment was partially open, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest, where there were more glowing tattoos.
As Sam stared at him, her heart quickened, and her pain vanished.
Call me a sinner, because he looks like a demon, and I am tempted .
A flicker of movement called her attention lower still to find a long, thick tail swaying lazily behind him.
“I certainly hope you like what you see,” he said, drawing her eyes back to his face. One corner of his mouth was upturned in a lopsided grin that offered a glimpse of white fangs.
Annnnd I’m just standing here like a creep checking him out. Way to go, Sam.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she took another step backward. “I’m so sorry!”
He arched a brow. “Why would you be sorry? I can’t blame you for looking. In fact, your staring has given me ample time to stare back at you.” Moving slowly, he tipped his chin down and took her wrists in his hands, turning her arms so her scraped palms faced upward. “You should get these cleaned up.”
Sam glanced down. He was wearing gauntlets of some sort, made of charcoal-colored metal with segmented fingers. The undersides of his fingers were padded by a softer material, all of it strangely warm.
She trembled in his grasp; she told herself it was just the aftereffects of adrenaline overload after nearly being trampled to death—not because he was so close, not because of the way he was touching her, not because of the way he was staring at her.
Her awareness of her injuries returned in the wake of his words. In addition to the burning, stinging scrapes on her hands and knees, she was sure she’d have bruises in several places.
“I’ll…I’ll get them taken care of. Thank you again for what you did.” She tugged on her arms.
He frowned, and his center eye remained on her face while he looked down at her palms. Though he seemed to make no effort to mask his reluctance, he released her. “You’re new to Arthos, aren’t you?”
Nodding, Samantha dropped her hands to her sides and loosely curled her fingers. “I’ve only been here for two days and…” She glanced toward the ceaseless flow of people on the street. “I’m a bit out of my element.”
“Sometimes I think these crowds are connected by some animalistic hive mind.” He turned his head to follow her gaze. “That they sense when someone doesn’t belong and subconsciously seek to devour them.”
“That’s, um…”
“Not very comforting, I know.” He looked back to her and smiled, the expression as warm as it was hungry, as charming as it was devilish. “What is your name, little terran?”
Little terran . It was the same thing Rakkob called her, and yet it didn’t make her feel uncomfortable coming from this male.
“Samantha. Some people call me Sam. And yours?”
His lips parted, and he hesitated before replying, “Alkorin. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance”
It was a pleasure just to look at him.
His grin widened; for a horrified moment, Sam wondered if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, or if she’d said it out loud without realizing.
“I can bring you somewhere to clean up if you’d like, Samantha ,” he said, caressing her name with his sultry voice. “I know this city can be daunting to navigate.” He eased a little closer, and his tantalizing scent filled her nose again. “It would please me to assist you.”
Tingling warmth spread through her. She squeezed her fists despite the pain it caused in her battered palms. Why was she reacting this way? Why did it feel like her panties were wet just because of the way he said her name? Alkorin was gorgeous; his three eyes, horns, and tail only heightened her desire to touch him, to run her hands over his skin and feel its velvety smoothness over the hard ridges of his muscles.
And his lips… Would they be soft or firm against her own?
What is wrong with me?
Samantha’s powerful attraction to him scared the hell out of her. He was an alien. She didn’t know him, and even if she did, she’d already proven herself a poor judge of character. She couldn’t let herself fall into another trap because of a charming smile. Not when she’d come here seeking independence.
Not when she’d come here seeking safety.
“No. I…I should go,” she said. “It’s getting late, and I need to find my way back home.”
“I could walk with you, if you’d like. Just to make sure—”
“No!” She winced at the sharpness in her tone, and softened her voice when she said, “No. It’s okay. I’ll find my way back. You’ve...already troubled yourself enough. Thank you.”
“You’ve not troubled me, Samantha.” He offered her a slight bow, the sleeves of his robe swaying as he put his arms to the sides. “Have a good evening. And try not to fall again.”
Sam smiled as she backed away. “I’ll try not to.”
She forced herself to turn around before she was tempted to linger and hurried back into the street. She kept to the outskirts of the crowd, walking close to the buildings and booths.
Don’t. Don’t look back.
Unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder.
Alkorin was gone.
Disappointment struck her harder than she’d expected it to.
Well, what did you expect? That he’d stare longingly after you?
Samantha looked down at herself, and her cheeks blazed with shame. She was a mess; her clothes were filthy, her hands torn and bloody, and her hair disheveled. She couldn’t imagine what her face looked like. Alkorin had probably been laughing at her behind his smile, laughing that someone like her had the nerve to ogle someone like him as though she stood any chance of having him.
You’re worthless.
Sam’s throat tightened, but she refused to let those terrible memories rise to the surface. That life—and James along with it—was behind her.
She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her head bowed as she continued back toward her housing unit. It was hard not to feel like a failure, but she took pride in her effort—even if she’d nearly died because of it. That she’d ventured outside her apartment door was a feat on its own.
I won’t be trapped again .
Eventually, the crowds of the busy main streets were behind her, and she found herself walking down relatively quieter side streets, many of which were lined with large residential complexes like the one she lived in. There were still people around—other pedestrians and alien beings standing or sitting around the apartment building entrances, often talking in languages that sounded strange but were totally understandable due to her translator implant.
She was a couple minutes away from her apartment complex when a voice from behind chilled her blood.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here alone?”