Attached: The Chosen, #2

By G.M. Marks

Book 2 to Snatched.

 

Seven earthlings are snatched from their homes. Imprisoned together in a spacecraft hurtling into the unknown, they must work together to resist the species of virile aliens intent on making them their companions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marks Publishing
• Release date: Dec 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215738030

G.M. Marks

A young author who enjoys writing short fiction of the highly erotic variety.

Book preview

Attached

Book 2 of The Chosen

G.M. Marks

Copyright © 2022 G.M. Marks

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Aisha & Quinton

Aisha watched as Quinton spoke on his phone. He was turned away from her, tense and raking his fingers through his long blonde hair. His voice was low and quiet. She felt her heart start to race as she stared up at the blinking red light.

‘Is-is there something wrong?’ she asked as he slid the phone back into his pocket.

He turned to her. Aisha’s heart beat faster. He was frowning and looking pale.

‘We’re in trouble,’ he said.

Her mouth turned dry. ‘What trouble?’

‘We have visitors who mean us no good.’

‘V-visitors? You-you mean, o-other aliens?’

He paced the room without response, raking his fingers through his hair again as he murmured under his breath. His pale face was turning red. His eyes were wide and angry. ‘How could this happen?’

Aisha watched him, the back of her neck prickling. Other aliens. Bad aliens. She suddenly imagined tentacles, insect-like appendages, slimy green skin and oozing mouths. And what about alien technology? Blasters and lasers and things that could torture and maim in unspeakable ways. She shivered. So many terrible things could be out there, worse than the deepest parts of the ocean. Aisha couldn’t even imagine.

Quinton noticed her fear. ‘Don’t be frightened. I will protect you. We will protect all of you.’

‘B-but w-what about y-you?’ Aisha bit her lip. Her stutter always worsened when she felt herself starting to panic.

‘Don’t worry about me.’

Aisha opened and shut her mouth, wanting to say so much, but she knew her words would be a jumble. Instead, she looked up at him, staring back into those startling yellow eyes. Quinton gazed back. The anger in his gaze softened. Aisha felt the prickling of tears.

‘We’ll win this,’ he told her. He took her hand. ‘You must come. Time is short.’

‘Wh-where …’

He didn’t answer as he dragged her towards the door. Like her words, her feet mangled and she kept tripping. She was suddenly furious with herself. She should have just accepted his technology and fixed herself. Then, maybe, she could even help!

The corridor was alive with blinking lights. A group of tall Zibons raced past, boots thudding heavily against the metal floor. For the first time, they didn’t notice her. They were quiet, their faces hard.

Quinton tried to hurry but Aisha staggered after him, dragging against his strength. He turned. He didn’t ask permission, there was no apology in his eyes, as he swept her into his arms and raced after the group of fleeing Zibons.

He was so fast! The corridors seemed to flash by, the blinking lights a smear of colours. She looped her arms around his neck, tightening her body so she felt as light as possible. His pounding footsteps were all she could hear until a loud screeching noise filled her ears. Aisha slapped a hand to the side of her head. The corridor turned black, then brightened again.

Quinton slowed, then stopped. He eased her to her feet. They were in a dark, metal room: no windows; several heavy, barred doors. Then she saw the ladder-like stairs leading down through the floor.

‘Get onto my back,’ he told her.

He dropped into a crouch, and without a word, Aisha wrapped her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up onto his hips as he took his first step down the ladder. ‘Hold on tight.’

Again, he was so fast! Seeming to slide his way down. Before she knew it, they’d reached the floor. It was much darker and quieter down here. She couldn’t even hear the alarm anymore. There were no spinning or blinking red lights. Her ears were ringing. Now, all she could hear was the sound of their breathing, and it seemed more frightening than the frantic noise they’d left behind.

As she clung to his back, Aisha heard a beep then the clang of a heavy door opening. They stepped inside a blackened room. A light flickered on with a dull twang.

‘W-where are we?’

He eased her to her feet without answer. He turned. His expression was hard, his face filled with a resolve that Aisha didn’t like one little bit.

She grabbed onto his shirt. ‘Don’t go.’

Lowering his eyes, he tried to pull away.

She tightened her grip. ‘Don’t go!’

He grabbed her hands. The prickling in the back of her eyes intensified. Gently and firmly, he pulled her hands away, folding them in his powerful fists.

‘Be safe,’ he told her.

He let her go. Aisha staggered as she tried to grab him again, but he slipped through her fingers and he was out of the door. Her feet tangled and she fell to her knees. She hardly felt it as she dropped her head into her shaking hands.

*

Quinton’s heart was pounding in his temples as he stared at the door. Be safe. And yet it may not be possible—for any of them. It made his heart sink. She’d be back safe on Rictor 5 if it wasn’t for him.

He turned and went to the ladder. He’d just grabbed onto the lower rung when he heard footsteps. A pair of boots began climbing down. Quinton squashed himself up against the wall. It was Zibry. His mate followed.

Quinton stared—they were bonded. He knew it even in the semi-darkness before his fellow Zibon said a word or even turned to face him. He could feel it like a tremor in the air, like a warmth beating against his front. Zibry was gripping his mate’s wrist a little too tightly. Tears glistened on the redhead’s cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ Quinton told them.

They both looked at him. The redhead burst into tears.

‘Is that you, Quinton?’ came Clint’s voice.

Quinton looked above. Footsteps scuffed. Shadows moved. ‘Yes.’

‘Is there room down there?’

‘There will be in a moment,’ said Zibry gruffly, slapping his hand against the escape shuttle’s door lock. The door pulled open. Light poured out.

‘Don’t! I can help!’ the redhead cried, pulling against him.

‘The best way you can help is keeping out of the way. And keeping safe.’

Quinton turned his face away, trying not to look into the room and Aisha waiting within. Quickly, before Clint could descend, Quinton raced up the ladder.

‘No!’ he heard the redhead scream.

Quinton was trembling as he stepped onto the upper platform, his eyes darting between the bonded pair: Clint was resolved while his mate was ashen, though his mismatched eyes were bright with protest.

‘Go,’ Quinton told them. ‘Hurry.’

‘I don’t want to go,’ the Rictorian yelled at Clint. ‘I can do something!’

‘Look inside me,’ Clint said fiercely, gripping the Rictorian’s shoulder as he towered over him. ‘Feel what I feel. You know you can’t.’

‘Just because it’s what you feel doesn’t make it the truth!’

‘You said you agreed.’

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind.’ Tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Clint said, and he seized onto the Rictorian. Before the Rictorian could react, Clint had hoisted him over his shoulder.

‘Clint!’ the Rictorian roared as they descended the ladder.

Quinton waited several moments for both Zibry and Clint’s return, listening to the screaming and shouting. When they finally did, he could see in their eyes what Quinton was feeling.

They didn’t speak.

They ran, quiet and determined as their boots thudded against the metal floor.

At one point on their rush back, they passed Tor and Roco with their mates. They exchanged fierce glances but nothing more as they sped in opposite directions. Then they came upon Drake. He’d slung his female over his shoulder. He was looking white, his mouth pulled into a frown. They could hear the Rictorian shouting and screaming as he raced down towards the waiting escape shuttle.

They reached a crossroads. Mutely, the three Zibons separated, each heading towards their allotted stations in preparation to meet the Wriling attack. The Wrilings—Quinton still could not believe it. Out of all their fiercest predators, the Wrilings!

Even as he ran, he held onto the hope that it was all a big mistake. That it was all just a technological blip. An error. He kept glancing towards the windows, as though he could see them. But of course he couldn’t—at this point they would only be known through their ship’s elliptical sonar. They were a tremor in the closest sun’s gravitational pull, nothing more.

But close enough to cause havoc.

Close enough to cause fear.

The Wrilings.

So much for his holiday. So much for the time he was supposed to be spending with Aisha forming their bond. Gone. It was all gone.

Don’t go! Quinton winced.

He was panting as he approached the door leading onto the west wing’s ignition room. Three of his comrades, also trained in the use of radionic pulsation, were standing by their computers with their headsets on. They all turned upon his entrance. They nodded, gave stiff welcomes, then turned back to their screens. He recognised two of them but had never seen the third. It no longer mattered that Quinton was a senior operative. They were on equal ground now.

Quinton took up position at the remaining computer, his heart pounding. After seven months, he’d never been involved in defence, only training for it twice. As a cellular geneticist, his job was to study new lifeforms—not battle. That was for men like Roco, Clint and Silo. Maybe even Tor.

But he would do what he could.

He slid his headset on.

Brenda & Zibry

‘Brenda!’ Juan went over and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. He grabbed her shoulders, mouth falling open as he studied her. ‘You did it. You’ve bonded!’ His eyes darted over her face. ‘Your eyes aren’t different.’

‘I know.’ Brenda bit down on her lip as she struggled not to burst into tears. ‘Do you feel him?’

‘Yes,’ Juan said, choking back his own tears. ‘He’s worried. He’s scared.’

‘Zibry too.’

They both turned at a soft cry.

‘Aisha!’ Brenda hadn’t even noticed the girl, hiding in a corner, her skinny knees folded awkwardly beneath her, her face hidden behind her hands. Releasing Juan, she went over but stopped herself, remembering that the girl didn’t like help. ‘Are you all right?’

‘He left,’ she said in a thick voice.

Brenda gazed at her, surprised, knowing immediately who she meant. She hadn’t yet seen the girl show any affection towards Quinton before. Juan and Brenda shared a pained look.

‘Did he tell you who these aliens are?’ Juan asked.

Brenda shook her head. ‘Not much. What about you?’

‘No. He point blank refused.’ He fisted his hands. ‘Trying to protect me.’

Brenda closed her eyes, trying to focus on their bond. ‘I can almost see them—these Wrilings, as he called them. Zibry’s fear and anger give them some form. Like shadows and light.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘But I can’t quite grasp it.’

‘It’s the same with me,’ Juan said. ‘I hate the feeling. They seem … horrifying, whatever they are.’ Grabbing his ears, he stared at the floor, gritting his teeth. ‘What’s the point of this bond? It’s not useful at all. All it’s doing is messing with my mind!’

Brenda pressed her hands to her belly. ‘It makes me feel sick. This isn’t right. We’re supposed to be with them.’

They both turned at the sound of the door opening. It was Myeong and Chloe with their paired Zibons. The two women looked so small against them—and they seemed to be coming willingly, though Myeong was red-faced, her cheeks streaked with tears. Even Chloe was quiet and subdued, glancing up at her Zibon with uncertain eyes.

Chloe turned her gaze to them all, wide-eyed, as her Zibon gently encouraged her inside. As for Myeong, she wasn’t so obedient. She had a hold of her giant alien’s wrist and was reluctant to let go. Fiercely reluctant. She was gritting her teeth, her face screwed up as he pried her fingers away. She grabbed onto his other wrist.

The big Zibon was frowning sadly, cheeks drawn, yellow eyes dark, as he pried away her grip again. She was sobbing now as he gripped her shoulders. She fell into him and he held her, murmuring quietly in her ear. Brenda felt the tears dripping down her face as she recalled her own goodbye with Zibry. Myeong was quiet but Brenda had been screaming. She wished she hadn’t now. She suddenly wished she’d had the same goodbye as Myeong, something nice to hold onto instead of the nagging hollowness in her chest.

From the look on Juan’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

Chloe stood close to Brenda as she gazed up at the brown-haired alien. The Zibon was gazing back. Then the two aliens were retreating through the door. Brenda felt an overwhelming urge to attempt escape—but ignored it. Myeong’s alien was far too big; Chloe’s alien was too aggressive. They would catch her and then she’d have no chance at all.

Just before the door closed, Juan shouted. ‘Tell Clint I love him!’

‘He knows you love him,’ Brenda told him. ‘He can feel it.’

‘I know that,’ Juan snapped. ‘I just want him to hear it too.’

Myeong was standing at the door, staring, her long black hair gleaming down her back. Chloe retreated to the back of the room, leaned against the wall, then dropped to her butt, her brown hair shielding her face—and what might have been tears. Brenda couldn’t be sure.

‘There’s still Alexis,’ Brenda said to Juan.

‘So?’

She leaned in close to his ear. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m not leaving.’ She glanced around the little escape shuttle. Zibry had spoken to her briefly of their plan. The Zibons would keep them hidden and safe here, and if worse came to worst, they would eject the shuttle. Their destination: the nearest safe planet. Whatever that was.

Juan stared at her. ‘You’re right. I don’t know what they’re thinking. How do they think they’re protecting us? If they die, we die.’

‘We could attempt escape if we work together,’ Brenda said. ‘Get back to Clint and Zibry.’

‘You spoke of Alexis. What about Karina?’

Brenda shook her head, thinking of their last encounter. ‘I don’t think she’ll come here.’

Juan raised his eyebrows. ‘Why not?’

‘She’s sick again. I expect they took her somewhere else. Maybe back to their little hospital.’

They both looked up at a sharp intake of breath. Myeong was watching them, her mouth open. Juan’s eyes in particular caught her attention.

‘It’s the bond,’ Brenda said quickly. ‘We’re both bonded.’

Myeong shut her mouth. She stared at them for a long moment, her eyes steadily filling with more tears. She dropped her face into her hands as her shoulders shuddered.

‘What’s wrong?’ Juan said.

‘I-I should have done it too.’

‘Trust me, it’s better you didn’t.’

Myeong looked up.

‘It hurts like hell,’ Brenda said. ‘We’re not supposed to be parted. That’s the point!’ She clawed her fingers into her hair. She missed him so much it made her heart ache. It made her want to throw up. ‘Do you think it’s the bond? Do you think it’s my limit? Is that why I’m so sick?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Juan shook his head. ‘I get the feeling that it gets much worse than this.’

‘How could it? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Damn that Zibry!’ She bowed over with a groan.

‘You’re still up for it?’ Juan said.

‘Of course I am!’

‘According to Clint, Alexis is paired with Drake. He’s only a doctor.’

‘He’s still huge, though.’

‘We could bypass him if we overwhelm him.’ He spun towards Myeong. ‘Will you help us?’ He didn’t bother turning to Aisha or Chloe, who were both huddled on the floor by the back wall, though Brenda had little doubt they were listening closely.

‘Help you with what?’ Myeong asked.

Juan explained.

‘Hopefully Alexis is causing him problems,’ Brenda added.

‘Are you in?’ Juan asked.

Myeong gazed at them both, the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Lifting her chin, she nodded.

Bending their heads together, they discussed their plot.

They’d barely pulled apart when they heard the loud clunk of the door opening. Alexis’s swearing and shouting filled the room. Good!

The big alien stepped into the room, the bright light of the vessel gleaming against his white hair and skin. Alexis was slung over his shoulder, thrashing about like a fish on a hook. He certainly had his hands full.

‘Go!’ Brenda cried.

The three charged.

The alien only had time to widen his eyes before Juan and Brenda crashed into him. Alexis slipped from his grasp as he shoved Juan backwards and tripped up Brenda. With a yelp, Brenda hit the floor. Rolling onto her belly, she leapt to her feet—too late. He was so damn fast! He was already back outside, hitting the button that locked the door as he grappled with Alexis.

Brenda skidded to a halt, almost crashing into the door as it slid shut. ‘No!’ Furious, she punched the door, immediately regretting it as she bowed over her throbbing hand. That was stupid.

Juan was desperately pulling at the handle but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Goddamnit!’

He threw himself away, then spun around, hands fisted at his sides, panting. His glaring mismatched eyes darted around the room. ‘Where’s Myeong?’

Brenda spun around but could see her nowhere. ‘Yes!’

*

Sucking in a breath, Zibry shook out his hand at an inexplicable pain in his knuckles. As fast as it had come, it was gone.

‘Something wrong?’ asked Cooper.

‘It’s nothing,’ Zibry said, fastening his hand on the controls again.

Zibry cricked his neck. It was hard to concentrate. Something was going on with Brenda. She was furious, she was fearful, she was desperate. And now she was excited. All of her emotions seemed to pulverise his insides. He was finding it hard to concentrate. He hadn’t expected that. Rictorians had too many emotions. Far too many emotions. But worst of all was how much she missed him—and how much he missed her. It hurt like a drill in the guts, twisting and twisting and twisting.

‘Focus, Zibry,’

‘Focus on what?’ Zibry snapped back. ‘There’s nothing we can do but wait.’

As one of the crew’s most experienced pilots, he was part of a small team in control of the ship’s flight trajectory, the ship’s defensive shields and the release of their escape shuttles. Zibry stared at the button that would send the Rictorians to the nearby planet of Kipping, remembering Brenda’s small hands gripping tightly onto his hips, her warm breaths upon his neck, the sound of her cry.

He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, then dragged his hands down his face.

This was not his usual job. He was a great defensive flyer. The mothership had a fat arse and no manoeuvring capabilities whatsoever. Not like a mining shuttle. What was he supposed to do?

He stared at the screen. The Wriling ship was currently a flashing, green blip on their elliptical sonar, but it was approaching quickly. Soon, it would be within sight. If the Wrilings managed to get through their shields and defensive weapons, then it would be up to their infantry.

Roco, Clint, Silo. Would they even stand a chance?

Glaring at the screen, Zibry pursed his lips.

Alexis & Drake

‘Enough!’ Drake put Alexis down. ‘Enough!’

The Rictorian stepped back with a sneer.

Drake pointed at the door leading into the shuttle. ‘You must go inside!’

‘You can’t tell me what to do!’

‘I thought you wanted to get away. I thought you wanted to go back home. Well, this might be your only chance.’

Drake glared at her and she glared right back at him. She truly was wild. But where once it was endearing, now it was frustrating. Why was it so hard for her to see sense?

The Rictorian looked over her shoulder towards the shuttle door, then turned back with a scowl, lifting her chin. ‘I’m not a coward.’

Drake raised his eyebrows. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You said you’re under attack by another kind of alien.’

‘That’s right.’ He paused. ‘They’re called the Wrilings and they’re nothing like us. Like nothing you could possibly imagine.’

‘I have a vivid imagination. My teachers always told me so.’

‘Be that as it may, you must go. I know you’re brave but you don’t have the strength to fight them. You’ll only get in the way. They’ll—they’ll eat you alive.’

‘That’s what you think. I’m not going anywhere.’ Folding her arms, she glared up at him with her fiery dark eyes. ‘I like you too fucking much.’

‘And whose fault is that?’

She scowled again, then looked towards the ladder. She tried to walk past him but he stepped in front of her. ‘I can fight.’ She glared up at him. ‘I am not going to be like the others, hiding away like a … like a bunch of women. I’m so much more! Outta the way!’

She tried to shove past him but she was simply no match. Drake seized onto to her arm. She seized onto his wrist, digging in her nails as she gritted her teeth. As though she could hurt him! Even in the middle of a crisis, Drake could feel the laughter bubbling up inside him.

Crazy laughter.

Sad laughter.

Stage 1—they were at stage 1 and could go no further. At each passing moment it was becoming more and more difficult to deal with. He’d held himself together up until this point but he couldn’t take it anymore. Seizing her face, he pulled her close, kissing her hard on the mouth. For the first time since the alarm sounded, she was quiet.

For the first time, she was kissing him back, her little hands gripping tightly onto his wrists. In the right time and place, he would have melted into her. He would have held her and loved her and made her his.

Arching her over, he kissed her harder, knowing her, feeling her, absorbing her as much as he could. Even as his heart leapt, his stomach sank. He slowly backed her towards the door. She thrashed her head, trying to pull away.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ she gasped, her lovely dark eyes rolling in her head.

‘I’m keeping you safe.’

He slapped the button again, then twisted her around in his arms so her back was to his front. Pinning her arms, he prepared himself for a second attack by the Rictorians—but they held back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he told her as he shoved her into the room. By the time she’d turned and charged at him, the door was already shut.

Drake stared at the door to the little escape shuttle, panting, heart pounding. He could still feel her lips against his. He could still taste her tongue. With a yell, he slammed the side of his fist against the door. Then he started kicking it, over and over again.

He bent over his knees, gasping, his hand and foot throbbing. He could feel her standing there on the other side of the door. He could feel her own desperation mirroring his. Her desire. Her need. His cock was like a rod. His balls felt swollen with blood. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Why did this have to happen now?

He could do it, he suddenly thought to himself. He could take her out and make love to her, right here in this little annexe. It wouldn’t take long. Two more stages—and it