Twelve Days of Xanthus - Page 2

“I do not understand. I didn’t throw anything.”

Jesus I have a real life, Castiel. The quote from the television show Sanctuary popped into her head.

“I meant, repeat what you just said.”

“This is the way all slaves dress on Zenton.”

“I’m not familiar with that city. Where’s it located?”

“It’s not a city, Mistress.”

“Then what is it and why do you keep referring to me as mistress and yourself as a slave?”

“Because that is what I am. Zenton is a planet and Mistress is the proper title for all of the Zenths, though you are the smallest one I’ve ever seen.”

Her head spun. Alarm bells went off and a red flag rose. She knew crazy when she heard it. He seemed harmless enough but letting her guard down didn’t sound like a good idea. He began to shiver. His teeth chattered and his skin tinged blue. If he stayed out here exposed much longer, he’d get hypothermia and die.

“What’s your name?”

“Xanthus.”

“Come on up and get in the house.” She waved the gun away from him toward the open door. “Move nice and slow with your hands in front of you, and don’t try anything funny, okay? I’d hate to start the month of December off with murder.”

He followed her directions to the letter and they made it inside the four bedroom cabin in front of a fire in five minutes flat. His shape appeared to take up a large portion of the living room as he sat down on the worn hunter green couch that turned into a pull out bed. He held his hands up toward the fire and rubbed them together.

Now what did she do?

“Whereabouts did you crash?”

“About two miles away from where you saw me in the clearing.”

“Can you tell me anything more specific? The police will need more definite directions to locate your car. Do you need an ambulance?” She squinted. “You look okay to me, but I’m not a doctor.”

“Please do not alert the human authorities!” His eyes went wide and he stood only to hit the floor and bend over once more in the ultimate show of submission. The man’s body shook with what she could only assume was fear- no, absolute terror. It made it difficult for her to write him off. He believed his story no matter how farfetched it sounded. She might regret this later, but for now, her gut told her she needed to further investigate.

She’d dragged a chair away from the couch, and sat with the gun leveled at him. “Get up, sit back on the couch. Now, tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

“Capture. I do not wish to remain a slave any longer. Kala mistreats all her slaves. My time to disappear in the night, never to be heard from again approached and I found I could not allow myself to die so easily.”

His matter of fact tone chilled her. He almost had her convinced. Except the things he said were insane.

“I can sense your disbelief.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?” she whispered.

“I can’t. I only sense heightened emotions.”

No! “If you are really an a-alien.” She stumbled over the last word. “How would you know my language?”

“The ship equips us with a translator it embeds in our brain. I understand most of your words, but some of your phrases are very odd.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“Like that one.”

She shook her head.

“You do not believe me?”

Tags: Shyla Colt Romance
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