Alien Romance: RETURNED: An Alien Warrior Romance: (Acarnania Warriors Book 1) by Jane Hinchey Page A
Authors: Jane Hinchey
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the crew arrived, their loud voices piercing the silence. One of them was the soldier who'd stared at me in the dining room with such dislike. His eyes zeroed in on me now and I tensed.
“What is that stench?” he demanded, before laughing and pointing at me. “Found it. Human trash.”
There were some chuckles. One of the others spoke up in my defence, though.
“Come on, Marat. Leave it.”
“I wish we'd left her on that Bellatania ship, blown her to smithereens along with it.”
The crew settled around a table, drinking and talking, ignoring me for the most part, but I could feel the barbed glances Marat kept sending my way and knew he would keep needling me. Normally I didn't shy away from such situations; my training had taught me how to handle myself. But this time? This time I was out of my depth. If I confronted him, it could turn physical, and his species was, no matter how much I disliked the thought, superior to me in strength and speed. This time, common sense had to prevail, and common sense told me to get out, now. I smiled to myself. Sarge would be proud.
I waited until he was distracted, then slid from my seat and left the room unnoticed. Dropping by our quarters, I grabbed my gym gear and headed to the cleaning unit, where I changed and left my day clothes neatly folded on the floor. I figured all the quarters had their own units and the only people using this one were the rescued women, so no one was likely to touch my stuff.
In the training room, I was almost finished stretching when Alrik walked in, dressed in nothing but black shorts, his chest and feet bare.
“Thought I'd find you here.”
“Oh?”
“Would you be interested in learning some of our techniques? To defend yourself? Your ways are effective, but I can show you more.”
“Like how to land you on your arse?”
“It is possible. Not guaranteed.”
“Bring it on!”
* * *
“Argh ...” I landed on the mat with a groan, but rolled to my feet again within seconds. Alrik grabbed my wrist before I had chance to react and tossed me through the air again, and once more I landed with a groan. He was throwing me around like I weighed nothing. I flipped back onto my feet, beckoning him with my hands. He charged. I sidestepped. Not fast enough. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and flipped me onto the mat. Again.
“Stay focussed.”
Back on my feet, I cartwheeled toward him, foot narrowly missing his chest.
“No.”
I threw a punch. He evaded.
“No.”
Another flip, swinging my leg around to trip him. He shook his head.
“No.”
I aimed a punch at his face. He ducked and countered, his fist stopping an inch from my nose.
“No.”
I was getting pissed off. He blocked every move I made, landed me on my arse at every opportunity. I flipped again, cartwheeling toward him. Mid-cartwheel, he caught my ankle and flung me back to the mat.
“Crap,” I wheezed.
“Wake up!” He stomped toward me, each crash of his foot missing my head as I rolled away. “Come on. You said you wanted to train. TRAIN.”
“Maybe I changed my mind. Let's just get drinks.” I puffed, bent double with my hands on my knees, drawing air into my lungs. His feet appeared within my line of vision and I attacked, rushing forward, head-butting him in the stomach and pushing him back a foot or two. My victory didn't last long. He looped an arm around my waist and I was airborne once more before slamming into the mat.
“Come on. Find my weakness.”
I cartwheeled and spun, this time not concentrating on connecting with him, but keeping him guessing my tactics. I was small and fast and I needed to use it to my advantage. I tucked into a ball, rolling between his legs and popping up behind him. As he swung around, I simultaneously karate-chopped him across the throat and kicked him in the back of the knees. Off-balance, he went to the mat with a crash, gasping for breath.
I stood over him, stunned, for a minute. I'd taken him
“What is that stench?” he demanded, before laughing and pointing at me. “Found it. Human trash.”
There were some chuckles. One of the others spoke up in my defence, though.
“Come on, Marat. Leave it.”
“I wish we'd left her on that Bellatania ship, blown her to smithereens along with it.”
The crew settled around a table, drinking and talking, ignoring me for the most part, but I could feel the barbed glances Marat kept sending my way and knew he would keep needling me. Normally I didn't shy away from such situations; my training had taught me how to handle myself. But this time? This time I was out of my depth. If I confronted him, it could turn physical, and his species was, no matter how much I disliked the thought, superior to me in strength and speed. This time, common sense had to prevail, and common sense told me to get out, now. I smiled to myself. Sarge would be proud.
I waited until he was distracted, then slid from my seat and left the room unnoticed. Dropping by our quarters, I grabbed my gym gear and headed to the cleaning unit, where I changed and left my day clothes neatly folded on the floor. I figured all the quarters had their own units and the only people using this one were the rescued women, so no one was likely to touch my stuff.
In the training room, I was almost finished stretching when Alrik walked in, dressed in nothing but black shorts, his chest and feet bare.
“Thought I'd find you here.”
“Oh?”
“Would you be interested in learning some of our techniques? To defend yourself? Your ways are effective, but I can show you more.”
“Like how to land you on your arse?”
“It is possible. Not guaranteed.”
“Bring it on!”
* * *
“Argh ...” I landed on the mat with a groan, but rolled to my feet again within seconds. Alrik grabbed my wrist before I had chance to react and tossed me through the air again, and once more I landed with a groan. He was throwing me around like I weighed nothing. I flipped back onto my feet, beckoning him with my hands. He charged. I sidestepped. Not fast enough. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and flipped me onto the mat. Again.
“Stay focussed.”
Back on my feet, I cartwheeled toward him, foot narrowly missing his chest.
“No.”
I threw a punch. He evaded.
“No.”
Another flip, swinging my leg around to trip him. He shook his head.
“No.”
I aimed a punch at his face. He ducked and countered, his fist stopping an inch from my nose.
“No.”
I was getting pissed off. He blocked every move I made, landed me on my arse at every opportunity. I flipped again, cartwheeling toward him. Mid-cartwheel, he caught my ankle and flung me back to the mat.
“Crap,” I wheezed.
“Wake up!” He stomped toward me, each crash of his foot missing my head as I rolled away. “Come on. You said you wanted to train. TRAIN.”
“Maybe I changed my mind. Let's just get drinks.” I puffed, bent double with my hands on my knees, drawing air into my lungs. His feet appeared within my line of vision and I attacked, rushing forward, head-butting him in the stomach and pushing him back a foot or two. My victory didn't last long. He looped an arm around my waist and I was airborne once more before slamming into the mat.
“Come on. Find my weakness.”
I cartwheeled and spun, this time not concentrating on connecting with him, but keeping him guessing my tactics. I was small and fast and I needed to use it to my advantage. I tucked into a ball, rolling between his legs and popping up behind him. As he swung around, I simultaneously karate-chopped him across the throat and kicked him in the back of the knees. Off-balance, he went to the mat with a crash, gasping for breath.
I stood over him, stunned, for a minute. I'd taken him
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