Rescued by My Alien Guardian

1. Daisy

Daisy

The yellow light swallows me whole.

One moment I'm fumbling for my car keys in the parking lot behind the community center, exhausted after a twelve-hour day of fighting bureaucracy to get the Wilson family into temporary housing. The next moment, the world dissolves into crackling electricity and blinding brightness.

I can't breathe. Can't scream. Can't think.

The sensation is like falling and being pulled apart at the same time — every atom in my body vibrating at a frequency that shouldn't be possible. My stomach lurches. The asphalt disappears beneath my feet.

Then — nothing.

I wake up to heat.

Oppressive, suffocating heat that presses against my skin like a living thing. My eyes flutter open. I’m surrounded by trees and plants, staring up at a canopy of massive leaves — each one easily six feet across, deep purple with veins that pulse with blue light.

This is ... not normal.

I sit up fast — too fast — and immediately regret it as the world spins violently. My hand flies to my head, trying to steady myself, and that's when I realize two things simultaneously:

The ground beneath me isn't concrete. It's soft, springy, covered in moss that glows faintly pink in the dimness.

And I'm completely naked.

"Oh my God." The words come out as a strangled whisper. I look down at myself, at my bare skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, at my body completely exposed. "Oh my God, oh my God."

Panic slams into me like a physical force. Where are my clothes? Where's my bag? My phone? My keys?

Where the hell am I?

I scramble to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest in a futile attempt at modesty even though there's no one around to see me.

At least, I don't think there's anyone around.

The jungle — because that's clearly what this is, a jungle like nothing I've ever seen — is dense with vegetation.

The trees are massive, their trunks wider than my car, their bark a deep burgundy that seems to shimmer in the strange light.

The air smells wrong. Not bad, exactly, but unfamiliar — sweet and earthy with an underlying sharpness that makes my nose wrinkle. And the sounds ... clicks and whistles and low humming that sound unlike any birds or insect I've ever heard.

"Think, Daisy, think.” I force myself to take a breath, to push back the terror threatening to overwhelm me. I've dealt with crisis situations before. Families living in their cars in February. Kids who haven't eaten in days. I can handle this.

Except I have no idea what "this" is.

The last thing I remember is the parking lot. It was dark, late — probably close to nine o'clock. I was tired, looking forward to microwaving leftover Thai food and watching mindless TV before falling into bed.

Then the yellow light.

I turn in a slow circle, trying to get my bearings. The jungle stretches in every direction, thick and impenetrable. Above me, the canopy blocks out most of the sky, but through the gaps I can see...

My breath catches.

That's not Earth's sky.

Instead of the familiar blue, the sky is a pale violet streaked with bands of green and gold. And there — hanging huge and luminous — is a huge moon, close enough that I can see swirling storms across its surface, massive and impossible and definitely not the moon I know.

“No," I say, shaking my head, refusing to accept what my eyes are telling me. "No, this isn't ... this can't be…."

But it is.

I'm not on Earth anymore.

The realization hits like a bucket of ice water. My knees buckle and I sink back down onto the glowing moss, my body trembling. This isn't possible. People don't just get teleported to alien planets. That's science fiction. That's not real.

Except here I am, naked in a glowing jungle, staring up at a giant moon in a violet sky, so apparently the impossible is very real.

Through my spiral of panic, I hear a familiar sound: the gentle burble of running water.

Water. Which means I can drink, and wash off the sweat coating my skin. Water means ... I don't know what else it means, but it's something. A goal. A purpose.

I force myself to stand again and push through the undergrowth toward the sound. The plants are unlike anything I've ever seen — some with leaves that curl away from my touch, others that seem to lean forward as I pass. I try not to think about what might be living behind them.

The stream, when I reach it, is breathtaking.

It's about fifteen feet across, the water crystal clear and moving swiftly over smooth stones that gleam like polished gems. The banks are lined with plants that look almost like ferns but are bright orange and seem to sway even though there's no breeze.

Small creatures — I can't tell if they're fish or something else entirely — dart through the shallows, their scales reflecting rainbow patterns.

For a moment I just stand there, overwhelmed by the beauty before me. Despite my terror, despite the absolute insanity of my situation, part of me can't help but marvel. This place is incredible.

Then I hear the growl.

Every hair on my body stands on end. The sound — low and rumbling and full of menace — is coming from somewhere behind me.

I turn slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The creature standing downstream from me is massive — easily eight feet tall.

It looks like someone took a bear, made it bigger, gave it shaggy red fur, and replaced its eyes with glowing red orbs that fix on me with unmistakable hunger.

Its huge mouth opens, revealing rows of yellowed teeth, each one as big as my fingers. Saliva drips from its jaws.

And the smell — oh God, the smell is like rotting meat mixed with sulfur.

For a frozen moment, we stare at each other.

Then it roars — a sound so loud and visceral that I feel it in my bones — and charges.

I run.

I don't think, don't plan, just bolt into the jungle as fast as my legs will carry me. Branches whip against my bare skins. Roots seem to reach up to trip me. My feet slip on the moss and I nearly go down, catching myself at the last second.

Behind me, the creature is crashing through the undergrowth, getting closer. Its breathing is harsh and wet, punctuated by snarls that promise pain and death.

I've never been athletic. Never been a runner. Two years ago I started a gym membership that I used exactly three times before it became just another monthly charge on my credit card.

But terror is a hell of a motivator.

I push myself harder, lungs burning, legs screaming in protest. A vine catches my ankle and I go sprawling, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I taste blood — I bit my tongue when I fell — and scramble to get up, knowing the creature is right behind me.

And then, from out of nowhere, rough hands grab my arms, yanking me to my feet.

For a split second, I think someone's helping me.

Then I see them and realize I've gone from one nightmare to another.

There are two of them, and they look like trolls — squat and ugly, built like tanks, about six feet tall with mottled gray skin and small, cruel eyes that glitter with malicious interest. They're wearing black leather that creaks as they move, and their breath smells almost as bad as the red beast's.

"Well, well," one of them says, his voice a gravelly rasp that makes my skin crawl. "What do we have here?"

The other one circles around me, looking me up and down in a way that makes me want to vomit. His gaze lingers on my breasts, my hips, between my legs.

"Please," I manage, my voice shaking. "Please, there's a creature — it was chasing me —"

"The rakkor?" The first one laughs, a sound like gravel scraping against metal. "That beast won't come near us. It knows better."

"Who are you?" the second one demands, moving closer. I can see the pores in his gray skin, the yellowed teeth when he sneers. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know! I was home and then there was a light and I —"

"She's lying," the first one interrupts. He grabs my chin roughly, forcing me to meet his eyes. His fingers dig into my skin hard enough to bruise. "Nobody just appears on Mavorrah. Who sent you? Are you a spy?"

"I'm not lying! I don't even know where I am!" Tears are streaming down my face now, fear and pain and overwhelming confusion all crashing over me at once. "Please, I just want to go home."

The second one runs a hand down my arm and I flinch away. He laughs.

"Soft," he says, squeezing my bicep. "Weak. But pretty. We can get a nice price for this one."

“Very nice," the first one agrees. His hand moves from my chin to my throat, not quite squeezing, but the threat is clear. "But we can have a little fun first. Make sure the merchandise is worth —"

And then, from out of nowhere, a commanding voice says, ”I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice comes from the jungle — deep and rough, with an edge that promises violence.

The two creatures spin around, and I catch a glimpse of the voice’s owner as he steps from behind a massive tree.

He's tall — easily six and a half feet — and powerfully built, with broad shoulders, a bare muscular chest, and tight leather pants. His skin is blue. Not pale blue, not gray-blue, but a rich, vibrant blue that seems to catch the pale light filtering through the canopy.

Golden bands circle his upper arms, gleaming against his skin. His hair is black and shaggy. He’s bearded. And his eyes —

His eyes are amber, glowing faintly in the dimness, and they're fixed on the two creatures holding me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"This doesn't concern you, Kravan," the first creature snarls, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"You're on my land," the blue man says calmly. "That makes it my concern."

"Your land?" The second creature laughs, but it sounds forced. "This entire sector belongs to the Grokkan Empire. Which makes you a squatter."

“We both know that’s bullshit,” the blue man says calmly, almost pleasantly. He takes a step closer and I notice that he doesn’t appear to be armed. ”I’ll say it one more time. I don’t appreciate Virdathians trespassing. Especially Virdathians who put their filthy hands on females."

"She's unclaimed property," the first one argues, though his grip on me loosens. "We found her first."

"Let her go."

It's not a request.

The two creatures exchange glances. I can practically see them weighing their options, trying to decide if whatever they planned to do to me is worth fighting this man.

"There are two of us," the second one says, trying to sound confident. "And you're alone."

The blue man's mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile. "I like those odds."

The first troll shoves me away — I stumble and fall hard — and then lunges at the blue man with a roar. His companion pulls out some kind of weapon, a rod that crackles with electricity.

The blue man moves like water, like violence made fluid.

He sidesteps the first troll’s charge. A knife appears in his hand out of nowhere, and wIth a slash so fast I almost don't see it, he buries the blade in the creature’s throat and the creature goes down, gurgling, blood spraying across the glowing moss.

The second troll swings his electric rod but the blue man grabs its wrist, twisting it with a sharp crack that makes me wince. The creature screams. The blue man drives his blade up under the creature's ribs, then yanks it free and lets the body crumple.

The entire fight lasts maybe ten seconds.

I'm on my hands and knees on the ground, shaking violently, barely able to believe what I just witnessed.

The blue man whirls on me, amber eyes blazing.

“Are you all right?” he demands angrily. “Did those bastards hurt you?”