Alien Fighter's Baby (Captured Science Fiction Romance) (2 page)

B
ran killed
five Grubs aboard their Wald-ship, before the sixth screeched out the location of Starling, and then the alien ran. Saving ammo, Bran let him go, and then pulled open the hatch to what he would consider the Wald-ship’s cargo hold.

He reconnoitered the entrance, and then moved halfway into the chamber, which was filled with gray alloy crates of all sizes. Moving forward cautiously, he came around a large grouping of crates at the end of a long aisle. Quickly, he scanned the area, and then he spotted her … barely.

What he saw was an odd-looking, scooped-out table with ghostly blue lights that came from within its oval structure. Inside the oval shape was what looked like lumpy lengths of black netting.

When he moved closer, he realized that the netting was shifting, and he stopped cold, seeing Starling beneath the black strands. She was naked and didn’t have one of the Grubs’ pain collars around her slender neck.

The entire length of her curving body was flexing with flowing motions, and the sight of it stalled him for long, breathtaking moments as he watched the dark netting move along her nakedness. Damn, the sight was charged with combustible ideas. He had to haul himself back from the unexpected sight and following avalanche of lust that hit him.

“Hell,” he said, as he tried to shake his immobility.

That damn netting could be eating her, hurting her, or any number of things. He shook himself with a vicious motion to get moving.

“Starling!” he yelled, trying to wake her.

Bran grabbed the netting with one hand and felt the roughness of the strands, but nothing about it appeared lethal. It was more as if she were caged by it. He looked closer when Starling didn’t answer and saw her eyes were shut.

Still, her nude body undulated on the length of the sunken table. Quickly, he picked her up and out of the table’s scooped center, with the net coming along. She fell limp into his arms, and the blue light that had been emanating from the table winked out.

But Starling remained unconscious.

He didn’t have time to worry about all of it. Not if he hoped to get either of them back to the Skitter ship before Wisetech had wigged out into space. And if he didn’t make it, they’d be stranded.

As it was, he was going to have one hell of a time when he tried to take a civilian woman aboard the classified Alpha-Force Skitter. In their realm of thought, his command would consider one woman’s life not worth the security breach. But Bran forced himself not to dwell on his more-than-unusual behavior, about forcing the issue, by rescuing Starling.

He met minimal resistance on his jog to the Skitter, and then he met Cobalt just as he stepped through the trip-hatch of the ship.

“I don’t believe it,” Cobalt rasped.

For once, Bran noted—and not to his liking—that Cobalt seemed to lose his superior attitude as he stared at Starling. The immediate lust Bran saw in Cobalt’s gaze made Bran want to gut-punch him and cover Starling’s nakedness. Instead, Bran pushed past Cobalt without a word and only the dark scowl that furrowed his face.

“I get seconds,” Cobalt called, with a sneered voice behind Bran’s retreating back.

Bran flinched, but kept going. He would deal with the bastard later. Right then, he needed to get Starling to his cabin so he could go to work getting the Skitter lifted off.

The disembodied voice of Wisetech sounded in the corridor in front of the hatch to his cabin, and it followed him inside the small space after he’d kicked the hatch open and walked inside.

“One minute to spare, commander! How’s about a liftoff now? I got a retreating Wald-ship we just might catch.”

“Engage liftoff sequence,” Bran ordered, as he lowered Starling onto his bunk.

“Right-o!” Wisetech’s voice sailed through the room around Bran. There was a crackling sound on the comm, and then the Skitter rocked on its moorings. Bran jerked his head up to hear Wisetech’s voice over the internal audio.

“Shiit! Reinforcements! It’s a ground attack. Didn’t break through our shields yet. All hands, engaging liftoff. Stations!”

Bran knew that his crew could handle things for a while longer, because he had to get the netting off Starling and check her condition. Her unconsciousness worried him. He laid the tack-pistol he’d taken from Cobalt on the pullout wall desk, then he turned away from Starling and jerked open the built-in cabinet that held his clothes, extra boots, and backup weapons.

He looked through the cabinet to find his spare knife. The Alpha-Force’s standard knife was a wicked-looking blade, and he’d just pulled it from its syntech sheath when he heard a whimpering sound behind him.

He jerked his head around and saw that Starling was fighting the net by pushing against it with her hands and wiggling her feet. He didn’t want her to hurt herself. The net was rough—and her skin was … well … too damn soft. He grabbed the back of her neck and he got her hair and the netting.

“Hold still. It’s Bran. I’ll cut you out of there.”

Still, he had to force her into stillness with the pressure of his fingers spread across her nape, while he watched her helplessly panting. Then finally, her gaze focused on his face. It was as if he looked into turbulent green waters, while he watched her gaze slowly becoming clearer.

“Bran,” she whispered, and her voice wavered.

“That’s it, beautiful. You’ve been rescued.” Bran kneaded her delicate nape, while she clutched the netting with her fingers. “I need you to lie still, so I can get that net off you. Can you do that?”

Starling sucked in several rough breaths, and it raised her pink nipples to quivering points. He could see that she was shaking.

Then she barely whispered, “Yes.”

Bran wasted no more time. He could tell Starling was fighting terror over being under the netting, so he quickly pulled the net below her feet. He spoke as he cut, because he had a powerful sense of needing to comfort her, which was foreign to him.

“We’re on my Skitter ship, Starling. My Alpha-Force team rescued us from the Grub prison.” The knife worked, but the netting was tough, and he had to saw it.

“Rescued?” she whispered. She sounded as if she were in a world of confusion, while her body continued to move with small, worming undulations.

“Does the netting hurt you?” he asked.

“Yes.” She exhaled. “I’m trying not to move. But it is biting my skin all over.”

Bran didn’t like the sound of that. He had enough of the bottom of the net sawed open, so he decided to skip cutting more of it to try to pull it off her.

“I’m going to pull it off now.”

He had his back to the open hatch, yet the hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle. A sure sign someone was there. Then he heard Starling’s gasp of dismay. Frantically, she tried to cover her bare breasts and the sweet little pink between her thighs, while she began to cry.

Bran jerked his head around.

“Get to your post!” Bran snapped at Cobalt, who was leaning leisurely, for him, in the open hatchway with his icy blue-eyed gaze hitched on Starling.

Bran knew, because of Starling’s struggles, that the netting had to hurt her even more, and he wasted no time to see if Cobalt had obeyed his command. He grabbed the bottom of the netting and quickly pulled it up over her bare ankles, her calves, and tugged it from beneath her thighs.

“I’m getting it off you, beautiful. Just try to be still,” he muttered.

He could see the red marks on her ivory-colored skin and he pulled the netting up over her hand, which was clasping ineffectually, trying to cover the soft brown curls between her thighs. Then he pulled the netting up over her rounded hips and smooth, flat belly.

Christ, she was ripe.

To get the net off, he had to pull her up and against his chest, where he could lift the wadded meshwork off.

“Jesus.” Bran heard the rough voice behind his back, and knew that Cobalt hadn’t left. “I’ve never seen a woman like this one. Only in my damn dreams.”

Bran pulled the netting free and Starling found shelter against his chest. She curled into him as if she could hide in his skin, and he felt her tears dampening his chest.

“Damn it, Cobalt, you’re scaring her. Get the hell out of here!” he growled, while he shielded Starling with his bare body.

“Don’t want to scare the little doll,” Cobalt muttered behind them. “Later.”

Bran checked over his shoulder. “It’s all right, Starling. He’s gone now.”

She continued to cling to him, and Bran could still feel her tears as he wrapped his hands in her hair and he held her close, quietly letting her cry. He supposed he was trying to give her comfort, and as strange as it seemed to him, he hoped that he was.

Abruptly, the lights flickered overhead and the red security lights began to strobe, along with an intermittent screech from the ship’s alarm. Starling jerked in his arms at the invasive sound, while her nails dug into his back.

“What is it now?” Bran demanded, when the intercom blurted Wisetech’s familiar voice.

“We got a problem, boss man. The life-support warning system is telling me that babe of yours is pregnant, and it won’t let us take off unless I override it!”

Bran was thunderstruck. He jerked Starling back from his chest and he saw that her eyes were wide, and not with surprise, but with fear. Without thinking it through, he forcefully pressed her down on his bunk and glared down at her. Both their hands collided on top of her stomach. His hand beat hers and he flattened his palm on the amazing softness of her skin, while she tried to pry his hand free.

“Is it true?”

He’d not meant to sound so vicious, but his entire world had just skipped a cosmic beat. Starling was shaking her head, while she tried to grab his hand and, at the same time, tried to wiggle her body out from underneath him. Her eyes were frantic. And they were fearful.

“Tell me, is it true?” he snapped.

Bran grabbed her arms, and she collapsed to lie still on the bunk. Then she cried out, “Yes!”

Inexplicably, even though he felt as if he’d been punched hard, his hand returned to her stomach and he felt the satin tenderness of her trembling belly, while he tried to force his mind into comprehending the reality of what had happened. All the while, red lights flashed and warning buzzers blared around him.

Starling lay paralyzed with anxiety as the trooper named Bran ran his calloused fingers gently over her belly. She remembered his name was Bran, and she remembered his powerful, swirling silver eyes. Just the thought of him had helped her survive being held captive by the horrible Trak-Grub-Walds.

The trooper’s fingers returned to caress her belly again, as if he could feel the baby somehow … or as if he wanted to. It took her long, tense moments to understand that he wasn’t going to hurt her because of her admission that she was pregnant. Or that he wasn’t going to hurt her because of the shock of it … or the horror.

She couldn’t have guessed how he would feel, and she could barely understand herself, because everything was happening so fast.

“Damn, Starling, we’ve got a massive problem,” he muttered.

Starling gripped his muscled forearms, and she wondered how much more she could stand. She felt so weak and cold. She had been so cold, until he held her. Bran scowled down at her with his strong features as he searched her face, while his silver irises turned into swirls of slate colors. There were questions in his gaze, followed by firm and steely resolve, and then she could see that he’d made a decision.

She awaited her fate, knowing that he controlled her destiny.

“Get up! You have to put something on.”

Starling gasped, and realized she’d been holding her breath. Even though she hardly understood all the things that had happened, she did know that Bran was her only hope. He held out his large hand to her, and she reached forward and clasped it.

“We have to get out of here,” he said. His dark head was turned, and he rummaged through a cabinet, then he tossed a tee shirt over his shoulder, as he muttered, “I haven’t got much that will fit you.”

He was going to save her!

Tears pricked Starling’s eyes, but she gathered enough courage to ask, as she pulled the tee shirt on, “Go?”

Bran had stood with his back to her, and the sinew across his buttocks flexed as he pulled on some strange black pants, which hugged his lower torso like skin.

“Yeah, Starling. There is no choice. A skitter-jump would kill your baby and most likely kill you with it. That leaves only one choice.”

“You’re going to leave me?”

Starling clutched the end of the tee shirt that hit right above her knees as she watched Bran turn toward her, and then he stopped in the process of pulling on a multi-pocketed black vest. He looked angry, and she held her breath. He said, “We have to go.” But that could mean he was taking her somewhere to dump her.

“Damn rancid Grubs,” he swore, and his wide hand raked through his short, bristly black hair. His tone made her cringe, as she still wondered with terrible uncertainty what he was going to do.

Then he snapped, “No.”

She flinched, and he took her shoulders into his large hands. She was afraid to look into his eyes, so she watched his mouth, as she wondered how he had meant that snarled “no.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, and she realized that she could barely breathe and her head was spinning.

Bran wondered what trick of fate had dealt him the hand he was left. A baby. Hell. How could he kill a baby and its mother? He squeezed his hands tightly, and he didn’t hear Starling’s whimper at the pain he caused her.

He would have to give up everything.

He would be considered a renegade. You did not leave the Alpha-Force troopers. Alive, that was. After that, nothing he could do would get him back into Alpha-Force, and they would not accept having him on the outside.

His entire life in one act. Damn it, he’d thought many things might happen in his life, but what had just happened was too unreal. However, he was a commander, and he was trained to make impossible decisions in seconds. He’d done it before, and he knew a man just had to deal with the consequences later.