Chapter 9
Logan
He worried that he’d smacked into the female too hard. He saw the ravine in front of her and tried to warn her of it. She looked back and then stumbled. Leaping forward, he pulled her body against his and tried to take the brunt of the fall. They hit the hard ground but then rolled down the ravine. The wind was knocked out of him, so it took a little longer before he recovered.
Leaning on his elbow, he gently moved the female onto her back so he could get a better look and check her vitals. She was breathing but her heart was racing. He wished he had brought a med pack with him. He would make that a mandatory requirement for any warriors who spent any time on the surface of this godforsaken planet.
The female wore torn jeans and a dark shirt that came down low revealing creamy white cleavage. He moved the tumble of brown hair off her face to look for bruises. What he found shocked him to his soul. The female was soft and pale. So delicate, she appeared like a beautiful statue. He couldn’t help but run a finger down her cheek. She was developing a bruise and had smudges here and there, but nothing could take away from her attractiveness. He wondered what eye color she would have. These humans came in a range of different colors.
Shaking his head, he needed to clear his thoughts. This female, regardless of how pretty, could not be trusted. She was part of the thieves that attacked the truck shipment. His only focus should be on getting information from her on who the others were and where he could find them.
Logan glanced around, looking for the truck and his fellow warriors. The sandstorm was getting stronger and even he couldn’t see anything more than ten feet in front of him. The female wasn’t wearing any filter or mask to protect her from the elements. Whoever her male was deserved to have his ass kicked for not taking better care of her.
He tried using his communicator, but as he reached for it, he realized he must have lost it either when he jumped from the ledge or when they tumbled down the ravine. It would be too risky for him to carry her back to the truck or even to the dome, and without the communicator, he would not expect help to arrive any time soon. They needed to find shelter.
Bending closer, he slid his hands under the female and lifted her easily into his arms. She weighed nothing. That worried him. If her people were starving, it would explain one reason they would dare to steal from the domes. It angered him that the supplies his people sent specifically for those in the subway were not getting to the intended recipients. It just showed how greedy and controlling the dome leader Colonel Winstead was. How far did his greed go? Was he responsible for the thefts, hoping to get replacement supplies from the Drastans? This would be something he would check further into.
He began walking back the way he thought they had come. Unfortunately, it was taking him directly into the windstorm. He walked for a distance; the female barely stirred except for coughing. Stopping and laying her on the ground, he removed his own face shield and mask and placed them on her. It was too big for her, but it should provide clean oxygen. Once he had her settled in his arms again, he returned to walking.
The closer he came to the old destroyed bridge, he noticed a large box of some sort protruding from the ground. The top was open, but the box gently sloped down and the bottom was closed. It was the best he could do for now. He lifted her to the edge of the container, then climbed up next to her. He pulled her close and moved so they slid to the base.
He checked on her again and was relieved the trek to their shelter did not cause her more harm. Concern for her well-being overwhelmed him. Some of his field training would help, but he knew so little of human anatomy. How were they different?
He removed his oxygen mask from her. Touching her face with gentle fingers, he noticed how cool her skin was. He would need to keep her warm. The clothing she wore was thin, torn in some places, and patched in other places. Sitting up, he took in her whole appearance. The boots she wore were men’s, and he bet they were too big for her. Everything she wore was almost two sizes too big for her frame.
Her hair was longer and curlier than he thought. It was probably blond, but she was in need of a bath. She didn’t smell bad. Leaning forward where his nose gently touched the space where her neck and shoulder met, he took a deep inhalation. Her natural scent was quite enticing.
The bathing facilities on Earth were plentiful in the domes but he knew the subway dwellers had limited amenities. He was seeing firsthand the shortage of food, clothing, and medicine. It was clear that despite the agreement between his people and the Earth leaders, the supplies the Drastans provided were not being evenly distributed to all of Earth’s citizens. Leaving it to the humans had been a mistake.
Groaning sounds came from the female and she moved restlessly. He focused on her face which was pale, but he had no idea if that was her natural state. Her lips were dry but plump. They would be soft to kiss. He froze when he realized a pair of bright green eyes were staring back at him.
“Who are you?” she croaked out.
“Hello, human. I am Captain Logan Coor of the Drastan Nation.” He waited for her to respond to tell him who she was. He waited and waited. She was in shock. He wasn’t sure if she was going to pass out again. Then finally she opened her mouth to speak. It wasn’t the words he expected.
“I am so fucked!”
