ROMANCE: Lion Protector (Paranormal Shifter BBW Military Romance) (Shapeshifter Alpha Male Short Stories Book 2) (60 page)

Chapter Five

              Though Scarlet couldn't tell the passage of time at all, she and Nerol eventually landed on a planet which seemed to be straight out of a fantastical drawing of a Dr. Seuss book.  The colors of the planet primarily focused around greens, blues and violet.  At first, these cold and frosty, yet vibrant colors hurt her eyes to look at, but she had to acclimate herself.  Either that or walk around blind.

              Once they had landed, Nerol helped Scarlet out of the pod and took her into a large house made of some pale lavender stone.  The architecture was hard to describe.  It seemed like some miniature version of a Norman castle from days of yore, yet with an entirely different perspective on it.  Though it was large and clunky in some regards, at least compared to the chic and streamlined style popular in modern architecture on Earth, there was an air of sophistication despite any clunky overarching themes.

              Inside of the house, it was very arid and slightly warm.  The outside of the house was not so much as ten feet off of the ground, and at that it was extremely small, as if there were only a few rooms in the entire abode.  However, upon entering, there was a stone staircase which lead them underground.

              Having no other options, Scarlet followed Nerol hesitantly, just wrapping her arms around herself to try and keep herself warm.  She still didn't have a shred of clothing, which had long ago ceased to be embarrassing and now was just inconvenient for the sake of warmth.

              Nerol didn't pay her much heed, and just led her down the staircase and then into an adjacent room.  There was a chest there which he opened and took out a long fur coat, and then took it to Scarlet, wrapping it around her.  She instantly put her arms through the sleeves and the coat fastened itself around her with a series of magnets.

              Scarlet hadn't been warm since she woke up on that metal table, and so her gratitude for having this coat was boundless.  She just sat on the floor, making sure the blanket folded under her, and cuddling up with it without paying Nerol the slightest amount of heed.

              Nerol sat next to her, letting her have a moment to get warm.  He knew that she had been very cold for far too long, but there was nothing that he could have done until he got to his house.  However, the time for enjoying herself would have to be short.

              "Human.  I have to ask you this.  Will you marry me?" Nerol asked rather stoically.  Scarlet didn't even know what to say, so she just stared at him with a mix of bewilderment and shock in her eyes. "Before you answer, please know that if you say no, you will in all likelihood marry Metz," Nerol added.

              Scarlet shivered when she remembered Metz' crude voice, his domineering attitude, his awful yellow eyes, and most of all the threat of his violent nature that Nerol had told her about. "I don't have much choice now, do I?" Scarlet grumbled, pulling her blankets closer, curling up into the fetal position, and closing her eyes.

              "I'm sorry," Nerol said softly, petting the fur coat where he assumed Scarlet would be. The coat was so oversized for Scarlet that it just swallowed her up.

              "I won't say no," Scarlet said quietly, mainly because she felt like she would have no other real option.  It certainly wasn't because she wanted to, but in this situation, it felt as though she had no choice.

              "I won't make you regret that," Nerol replied, and he got up and walked out of the room, leaving Scarlet to her own devices for the time being.

Chapter Six

              While Nerol was off making his arrangement, Scarlet just leaned against the wall and slept in her over sized fur coat.  For once, she was let to sleep until her body woke her up, and she was in the same place as she fell asleep when her eyes opened again.

              She carefully got up, her legs a bit sore and stiff from the awkward position she had slept in, and she looked for anyone who might be able to give her information on what was going on.

              The house, though it wasn't very large, was like a maze at first. However, Scarlet was able to acclimate herself after a short while and at least somewhat navigate through the twisting hallways that seemed to lead her to an endless procession of rooms, which all had the exact same doors.

              Eventually, rather than her finding someone, Nerol found her, grabbing her by the shoulder as he walked up behind her.  "Scarlet.  I need you to come now.  We are to have our ceremony now," Nerol said, his voice seemingly higher pitched than usual, as if he were nervous.

              Scarlet nodded at that, and let Nerol lead her back to the room that she had slept in, and he gave her a leather skin dress that was of a fawn color, and boots to match.  Wedding garb, she supposed.  Odd though it seemed to her, she went into another room, changed, and presented herself to Nerol.  The clothes were much to big for her, especially insofar as the length went, but Nerol didn't seem bothered by this.  He took Scarlet's hand and half dragged her to another room, where a man wearing the mask of some sort of tusked beast and a fur coat stood holding an old tome.

              "Turn on your translator if you would, master," Nerol said as he entered with his soon to be bride.  At first the man growled and hissed in protest, but he did turn on his translator, considering its necessity was obvious.

              "Very well.  Do you, woman, understand that you are about to enter a life long commitment with Nerol, and you will be his from this moment on, forever and ever, and anon?" the old shaman like figure before Scarlet asked in a gruff tone, as if trying to coerce her to say yes.

              Scarlet just swallowed hard, and nodded at the question.  She would rather be Nerol's than Metz, after all.  "Yes," she said quietly, though she was a bit concerned with being labeled someone's property.

              To her surprise, however, the old and gruff man repeated to Nerol the same line for him to accept, which he readily did.  Scarlet expected to be kissed then, but after the ceremony, Nerol just hoisted Scarlet up and carried her to his room, then set her down on the bed.  She assumed that the next order of business would be to consummate the union which they just formed, but instead Nerol seemed as though he wasn't in the least bit concerned with that.

              "Now no one will be able to contest that you are mine," Nerol explained, and smiled slightly.  Scarlet just didn't respond, because she didn't really know what to say at first.  The rush job on them tying the knot along with the fact that she barely knew Nerol made the whole thing seem strange.  Yet, she still felt a connection to him none the less, so it was difficult for her to decide one way or another whether she liked or detested her choices.

              "Not even Metz?" Scarlet ventured to ask after a moment of silence.

              "No.  Certainly not Metz," Nerol replied, though he tensed up at the question, and Scarlet felt that it would be better not to bring him up again.

              "So, what now?" Scarlet asked hesitantly.  She truly had no idea what she had gotten herself into, but Nerol was happy to show her what he expected out of their life from this point forward.  Nerol showed her how to cook dinner with the materials that he had on hand, and then they ate together and put the dishes in an automatic cleaner.

              With that done, nothing more pressing seemed to need to be discussed, and Nerol spent his time with the shaman that had come in earlier, while Scarlet herself wandered around aimlessly until it was time to go to sleep.

              By the next week, it was a little noisier.  Granted, the week that passed with Nerol was akin to bliss for Scarlet.  She had nearly no responsibilities, and Nerol treated her like a princess.  However, such joy could not last. The ship that they had escaped from landed on the planet, and one of the gaggle that had been with Metz came to Nerol's house, and had a heated discussion with Nerol.  Scarlet couldn't understand a word that went between the two, but she could tell that none of what they were saying was positive, so she tried her best to keep her nose out of it until it was just herself and Nerol again.

              When the other character left, Nerol found Scarlet, and sat her down for a conversation. "Metz wishes to challenge me," Nerol said quietly.  "For the right to call you mine, I mean."

              "I thought that you said--" Scarlet began, but Nerol cut her off.

              "I was wrong.  I will go to the Colosseum tomorrow to fight him.  If I lose, I don't know what will happen to you," Nerol said quietly. "But, I do not think that I will lose."

              Scarlet was concerned hearing that, and she just wrapped her arms around Nerol, holding him close for the time being.  She wanted to make the most of the time that she had left with him, but she didn't know how she could do that.  It was such short notice.

              For the remainder of the day, Scarlet didn't leave Nerol's side.  When they finally laid down to sleep, though, she couldn't so much as keep her eyes closed for a minute due to the anxiety, but she stayed in bed with her arms wrapped around him to keep him close to her heart.  This may be the last chance that she ever got, after all.

Chapter Seven

              At the Colosseum, Scarlet was given a seat that was perhaps just a bit too close to the action.  A mere ten yards away, her husband would be jousting on a ferocious, over-sized ostrich like creature, which stood at about seven feet high, and had razor sharp beaks and talons.  They were frightening to say the least.

              Even more frightening, however, were the javelins with which the two parties would be jousting with.  If either got hit with the sharp spike on the end of the spear, there was no way that they would bounce back up, and in all likelihood the first to be knocked off their steed would be shredded to pieces by the sharp talons of the fowl mounts.

              Scarlet watched with bated breath as both Nerol and Metz faced each other on opposite ends of the Colosseum, ready to charge at one another and charge at any moment. However, they waited until the conductor of the tournament gave the sign, then they charged.  Their first volley landed no hits.  Their second volley was equally unsuccessful.

              By this time, the dust kicked up by the mounts made visibility difficult, but neither were ready to end this so soon, and the third volley commenced.  Scarlet saw the javelin go into Nerol, and she screamed out.  Not only did she scream, but she tried to jump into the Colosseum, and if not for the guards, she would have.

              "Nerol!" she screamed from behind the restrictive guards.  However, only after her passion died down did she see that neither of the large fowls had riders any longer.  Nerol and Metz were wrestling in the dirt, as they managed to pull each other off of their mounts.

              Scarlet watched with tears in her eyes as Metz landed blows upon Nerol, and Nerol do the same.  The anticipation was honestly just too much, and Scarlet lost herself in her tears.

              Within about ten minutes, the victor was declared.  Though she couldn't understand the language, she understood from the mix of cheers and boos in the crowd that the victor was being crowned, though she was initially too afraid to look.  After the clamor died down a bit, she did glance up to see Nerol's hand being held high by the conductor of the event, and Scarlet just felt a wash of relief come over her.

              Now that the guards were distracted, she managed to quite effortlessly rush past them and run onto the jousting area all the way to Nerol and wrap her arms around him.  Perhaps their meeting was out of the ordinary, and maybe she did complain about their first interactions being less than ideal, but she'd gathered by now that Nerol really love her, and she knew that she loved Nerol.

              "I'm so glad that you're okay," Scarlet said as she held him close, tears streaming down her face.

              "I had to be.  I had to protect you from him," Nerol replied, giving her a soft kiss.  Scarlet had never felt safer or more protected than at this moment.

              "Thank you.  I . . . I love you, Nerol," Scarlet said, burying her face in his broad and masculine chest.

              "I love you too, Scarlet," Nerol said, holding her tightly to him.

THE END

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The Scottish Warrior

Aidan reined in Strider as he scanned the surrounding terrain. Both of their breaths formed gentle plumes in the crisp February air. The battle was won, a decisive victory for the Scots. But though the clash of battle had been replaced by the more subdued sounds of camp being set up, Aidan could not rest easy. The waters of the Killburne Creek still ran red with blood. He was far enough from camp that its sounds were lost to him. Only silence greeted him as he peered into the trees.

After a long moment he turned Strider back toward camp and set out at a trot. But he pulled up sharp as he heard a sharp scream from the trees.  He turned Strider back toward the tree line and kicked him into a gallop, following the sound of the now muffled screams. He had barely broken through the tree line when he saw them.

The girl he did not recognize. She was wraith thin, struggling for all she was worth against a man who was easily twice her size. He had her shoved against a tree, her slight wrists pinned above her head in one of his meaty fists.  His other hand was working up her skirt as she struggled. The bodice of her dress, torn beyond repair, hung from her slender shoulders and left her pale breasts bare.

The man Aidan did recognize. Most nights he could be found half drunk at the fire, bragging loudly about the women he had bedded or made a conquest of. He always seemed more proud of the unwilling conquests.

“
Graeme,”
Aidan bellowed as he dismounted. 

He could tell he had taken the other man by surprise. But he recovered quickly, withdrawing his hand from her skirt and reaching up to cup her breast. She tried to cringe away from him as tears ran down her face.

“Ah, laddie,” Graeme replied, leering at the girl. “I mean her no harm. We’re just havin’ a wee bit of fun, that’s all.” He twisted her nipple viciously as he spoke and she cried out miserably. Aidan’s blood boiled as he unsheathed his sword.

“Unhand her,” he said in a low, dangerous voice as he stepped toward them. The girl held her breath, her wide eyes locked on Aidan as the two men stared at one another in silence.

“Nay, lad, I think not,” Graeme finally said, turning back to the girl with a smirk. She let her breath out in a long shudder and squeezed her eyes shut.

Aidan ground his teeth together as he stepped forward. He decided not to waste any more words on Graeme. He closed the gap between them and then, in one swift motion, he struck him hard on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. Graeme crumpled to the ground at Aidan’s feet.

The girl, no longer held up by Graeme’s captivating hand, fell down on top of him. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she scrambled sideways, away from Graeme and the tree. Then she stumbled to her feet, covering herself as best she could with her slender arms.

“Are ye alright?” he asked her.

She shivered against the cold as she took another step back from Aidan, eyeing him warily. Finally she gave him a single curt nod.

“Good,” he said, unclasping his cloak. 

The girl stumbled backward several steps as he moved toward her. He stopped and held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I mean ye no harm,” he said. He immediately cringed as he noticed the similarity of his words to Graeme’s.

He held his cloak out, averting his gaze from her bare breasts as he offered it to her. Hesitantly she approached him and took the cloak.

“Thank ye,” she said quietly as she settled it around her shoulders. She glanced warily at Graeme’s crumpled form before returning her gaze to Aidan. He looked up at the darkening sky.

“Shall I take ye home?” he asked her.

“Nay,” she said, clutching the cloak tightly around her as she shook her head. “Best not, I think.” And with that she backed away a few more steps before turning and running away through the darkening trees.

Aidan watched her as she disappeared into the twilight of the forest. He did not pursue her.

*****

Rhona fought to catch her breath as she reached the clearing where her father’s cottage stood.  She slumped against a tree, clutching the stranger’s cloak against her. She had run all the way, not stopping for anything. Part of her wished she had accepted his offer to bring her home. But she had been too shaken after what had happened to trust him enough to show him where she lived. She shuddered involuntarily. If he had found them just a few moments later….

Things had been bad enough as it was and she didn’t want to think about it. Her breast still hurt. She shook the dark thoughts off and set off across the clearing to the cottage. It was after dark and her father was no doubt worried sick by now. She was not looking forward to explaining what had happened, but with her dress in such a state there would be no avoiding it. She steeled herself for the conversation as she pushed the door open.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her father slumped in his chair, snoring lightly. The fire burned low in the fireplace, casting long shadows and wan light across the room. She picked up a candle that stood lit on the table, made her way quietly to her room, and slipped into her night clothes. Then she stowed the dress under her mattress. She could dispose of it later.

She was about to blow out the candle and lie down when she heard her father begin to stir.

“Rhona,” he called out. “Is that ye I hear?”

“Aye,” she called back. “Coming, da.”

Her father’s face was filled with relief as she sat down beside him.

“I was feart ye weren’t comin’ back,” he told her. “What took ye so long?”

“’Twas nothin’, da,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothin’ to fret about.”

“I dreamt ye were in trouble,” he told her.

His words startled her Rhona fought to keep her features neutral.

“’Twas naught but a dream, da. I’m here and I’m fine,” she said.

He gave her a long questioning look. Rhona squirmed uneasily under his gaze. She knew that he had the Sight. But she also knew that it came to him unpredictably. She had no doubt that his dream had told him exactly what had happened. But she hoped that the unpredictability of his gift would cause him to doubt it.

Her father was a great man and had been a strong one in his time. But these last few years his health had begun to fail him. She worried that the knowledge of what had almost happened to her would be too much for him to bear.  She held her breath as he continued to question her with his eyes.

She was on the verge of breaking down, admitting that he was right and telling him everything.  But then he shrugged.

“Aye,” he said. “Ye are here and ye’re well,” he said with a tired smile.

Rhona had to make a conscious effort not to visibly sag with relief.

“Aye,” she said. “And now, may I walk ye to yer chambers?” She could tell by the haggardness of his features that he needed his rest. And more than likely he needed her help to make it to his bed. But she had learned some time back, when his health had first begun to fail, that he was more likely to accept her help if she made it seem as though he were doing her a favor by allowing her to accompany him.

“Why, I’d be honored,” he said, before breaking into a coughing fit. Rhona waited patiently for the cough to subside. She wanted to rush to him, but she knew that it would serve for nothing but to wound his pride.

When he had finished coughing and composed himself he stood shakily and offered her his arm as though to escort her. Rhona forced a smile and took his arm. She supported him when he stumbled, both of them pretending that he hadn’t.

“Good night, da,” she said when they reached his door.

“Good night,” he said with a smile, closing the door.

Rhona waited until she heard his footsteps reach the bed before retiring to her own chambers. Sleep was slow to come. Her father hadn’t seemed any frailer than usual. But somehow she still had a foreboding sense that she would not have him much longer. She clutched her pillow and rolled over as she tried to ignore the darkness creeping over her thoughts.

*****

Aidan woke with a sense of uneasiness. Not unusual, given the recent battle. He tried to shake it off as he exited his tent and made his way down to the creek. It had been three days since the battle and the stain of blood had finally left its waters.

Once he had cleaned himself perfunctorily he began to make his way back to the camp. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Graeme approaching him. Graeme stopped as well as he noticed Aidan. The two men stared at each other in silence. At their last encounter Aidan had left Graeme lying in the woods.  He had lingered long enough only to be sure that the girl had gotten away.

Aidan maintained a countenance of stone as Graeme glared at him with malice. It was Graeme who finally dropped his gaze, making his way down to the creek. Aidan made his way back to his tent and set to sharpening his sword. When that task was done, he set himself to other chores. As the day wore on, his sense on uneasiness still did not leave him.

By the time night had fallen, he had almost convinced himself that his growing uneasiness was in fact a side effect of the battle and nothing he could do anything about. He retired to his tent and had almost drifted to sleep when he heard Graeme’s voice.

He gritted his teeth at the sound of it, but he resolved to keep his peace. No use in confronting him. But he recognized the story…every detail of it was horrifically perfect. He cringed as Graeme described the girl and recounted ripping her bodice from her chest, and working his hand up her skirt. But still he kept his silence.

But then the story diverted from the truth. Aidan shook his head. He wasn’t sure what else he had expected. But hearing the man tell of ravaging the girl infuriated him. He told himself he was only angry because Graeme was lying, that it was the lie that made him angry. But it was more than that.

Retrieving his sword, he made his way out of his tent and over to the fire where Graeme was speaking two tents over. He stopped at the edge of the ring of onlookers as Graeme continued his story. Some leered appreciatively while others squirmed uncomfortably.

“Aye, she fought me at first,” he said. “But she was cryin’ out for more afore I was through.”

None seemed to notice Aidan standing, clutching his sword, as he tried to control his breathing. None except the two young boys on either side of him. They were barely old enough to be soldiers. They looked up at him uneasily as he clenched his jaw repeatedly.

“I left my seed in ‘er, an’ I was finished….An’ she begged me to keep ruttin’ in ‘er,” Graeme proclaimed as he leered out at his listeners with pride.

Aidan had had enough. He spat on the ground before making his way to stand silently before Graeme. He felt a small satisfaction as Graeme’s expression faltered at the sight of him. Aidan didn’t give him a chance to recover. He placed his foot in the center of Graeme’s chest and pushed him over. Then he planted his foot on Graeme’s chest and the tip of his sword in the hollow of his neck. The two men glared at one another for a long moment. It was Aidan who finally spoke.

“Ye never did,” he said. He flicked his sword, leaving a faint scratch on Graeme’s neck. And with that, he turned to make his way to his tent.

“Perhaps not yet,” he heard Graeme say under his breath.

Aidan turned on his heel and strode back to Graeme, pinning him against a nearby wagon and placing his sword against his throat.

“Lay a hand on ‘er an’ I swear…I’ll do more’n put ye on yer arse.”

Graeme said nothing. He licked his lips, his eyes darting about nervously. After a long moment Aidan released him, spun around, and strode back to his tent. Graeme’s hand went up to his throat as he glowered after Aidan. He looked down to see blood on his fingertips. Aidan’s sword must have nicked him.

His glower deepened when he looked up to find the men around the fire staring at him. He spat on the ground as he wiped the blood from his hand and headed toward his tent without a word.

*****

Aidan’s uneasiness grew as the days went on. Several times he had seen Graeme coming back from the direction of the woods. He had no way of knowing for certain, but he felt sure that he was looking for the girl. He took to frequenting the woods himself, hoping to find her. He needed to warn her to stay out of the woods.

One morning, as Aidan rode towards the woods he met Graeme riding coming out of them. The two men reined in and regarded each other in silence.

“What are ye doin’ here, Graeme?” Aidan finally said.

Graeme shrugged. “Naught but a wee bit o’ hunting,” he said. The malicious glint in his eye made it impossible to mistake his meaning.  Aidan ground his teeth. After a moment Graeme smirked as he kicked his horse and began to ride toward camp.

“Graeme,” Aidan shouted. The other man reined in and turned back to face him. “I
will
kill ye if ye lay a hand on ‘er,” he said flatly. Graeme merely sneered before turning away again and riding back toward camp. Aidan watched him go.

Finally, he turned and made his way to the tree line.

*****

Rhona cleaned up after breakfast as her father dozed near the fire. She did her best not to make enough noise to wake him. She would wake him before she went out to look for fire wood, but for now he needed his rest.