Hazel

“Ex-wife,” she said, stressing the ex.

How many times did she have to say it before Scott believed it?

He’d never believe it, she realized with a chill. He’d never let her go.

If she could go back in time, she’d warn her younger self to steer clear of Scott Schwartztrauber. His movie star good looks and money had turned her head back then. There had been warning signs—he was controlling, insulted her in front of their friends—but she had been blinded by love, or what she thought was love.

Since the divorce, his behavior had grown darker. He stalked her, waiting for her after work and following her home. He called at all hours. He threatened her and her family if she didn’t take him back. She’d changed her phone number and he somehow found the new number. She’d lost her job and moved out of state, but Scott still found her.

She’d packed up her junker of a car and left everything—and everyone—behind. She never had a plan or a specific location in mind. Maybe that was the flaw. Scott knew how she thought, after all. She just kept driving south, leaving behind the grey and the snow and headed into the sunshine of Florida. She worked double shifts at the diner. The work was murder on her feet but she got a top-notch view of the ocean all day long.

She had been naive to think that she could outrun Scott and downright foolish to believe that she could enjoy a day at the beach. Scott knew she loved the ocean, after all.

The Mahdfel male twisted Scott’s arm, driving him to his knees in the sand.

“You’re violating a restraining order,” she said. 

The Mahdfel male looked up from his grip on Scott’s arm. His magenta-toned skin gleamed in the sun and dark horns curled tightly at his brow, lending a formidable appearance. “True?” he asked in English, followed by a long string of angry, sharp sounds in alien.

“She’s my wife! I can do what I want.”

“Ex-wife!” Hazel grabbed a fist full of sand and threw it at Scott. He sputtered, shouting that she assaulted him. 

They were drawing a crowd. Hazel adjusted the sarong around her waist, suddenly aware of how they looked: a woman in her bikini and a giant magenta alien about to break the arm of a handsome man. She’d be lucky if she wasn’t fired on the spot. The cops would be there soon. Hazel needed to leave. Even though Scott was in violation of a restraining order, the cops would take his side. They always did.

She needed to leave, like leave town. No packing this time. Just get in the car and go. No time for goodbyes or putting in her notice at the diner. This time she’d go somewhere she hated, like the desert. No, Scott would guess that she’d go for an extreme: she loved the ocean and she hated the desert. Somewhere cold? No. She needed to let fate decide.

The first person or out-of-state vehicle— That was as good a method as anything.

“Injure you?” His words were stiff and the accent thick, but Hazel understood.

The Mahdfel’s deep voice snagged her away from her racing thoughts. It was cold and soothing, like a cool drink on a hot day, and the sexiest thing she’d ever heard, even with the broken English. Maybe she needed to sign up for the bride program? Outer space was about as far away from her ex-husband as she could get.

“No, I’m fine,” she said. The alien’s eyes dropped to her arm, watching her rub the spot where Scott grabbed her. “Really. I’m okay.”

The male gave her a long look, assessing her for himself. Hazel couldn’t stop the blush. Was he even remotely attracted to her and why did her first thought turn in that direction? This was hardly the time and place. Could that be why he intervened?

Hazel didn’t consider herself a knockout or a beauty. Her figure was, well, best described as sturdy and her hair was badly bleached blonde. She adjusted the sarong again, acutely aware that her breasts strained the bikini top. It was the only swimsuit remotely close to her size at the store and worked well enough. She had a dozen things that needed to be repaired, like her car, or replaced, like her worn out shoes.

The male chuffed and turned his attention back to Scott. More angry words flowed but this time it sounded like a warning. Her mind filled in the blanks with something like, “You’re lucky she’s not hurt” or “I won’t break your arm because I’m in a good mood today.” Yes, it was cheesy dialogue straight out of the Mahdfel soap opera she watched on television but the situation was real and happening right in front of her.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Scott snarled.

Another chuff, this one sounding like amusement.

“Dumb beast can’t even speak properly,” Scott continued.

Hazel opened her mouth to argue, to tell Scott that the translator implant worked one way: it deciphered incoming language. The Mahdfel warrior understood everything they said. They just didn’t have the implant to understand him.

She thought better of it and slammed her mouth shut. Something about Scott made her want to fight. She couldn’t let him control her that way, not anymore.

The Mahdfel loosened his grip and Scott staggered to his feet.

“Is this what you left home for? This dumb brute?” Scott dusted sand off his legs. The male growled a warning, and it was clearly a warning even if she couldn’t understand the words, but Scott ignored him. “Are you sleeping with him? You are! And he’s defending his property. You’re such a whore, Hazel. I can’t believe you’re putting out for this muscle-bound idiot. Good thing you left or I’d kick you out for being such a piece of low-class trash. No one but this animal will want you now. You’re defective, like in the head. I don’t know what I was thinking when I married you—”

The alien pulled back and landed a punch solidly on Scott’s jaw.

Scott crumpled to the sand like a discarded doll.

The alien turned toward Hazel. His cool blue eyes no longer held that flat, disinterested look. They sparkled and gleamed. “Hazel—”

She melted at the sound of her own name. He said it with such a loving caress. “Yes, that’s me.”

He touched his chest. “Seeran.”

She repeated his name, marveling at how even his name sounded hot. Seared.

Slowly Seeran extended a hand—the hand that punched her ex-husband—and lightly stroked her cheek. He murmured comforting sounds.

Hazel closed her eyes, leaning  into his hand. She had no idea what he said and didn’t care. He defended her; protected her. His voice was the sexiest darn thing she’d ever heard. He could read aloud a statistical analysis explaining cardboard box manufacturing and she’d be riveted.

Sirens broke the peace.

Seeran

“STEP AWAY FROM THE woman,” a mechanical voice droned. The Terran authorities arrived. Good. He would leave the pathetic excuse of a male with them and see to the care of his female.

Vehicles with flashing red and blue lights surrounded them.

“This one injured a female and violated an order of restraint,” Seeran said.

The Terrans stared back at him with a blank expression. “You get any of that?” a tall male said to another.

“We need one of those translator bots,” his companion replied.

“Is it in the trunk?”

“They’re back at the station, in the storage locker.”

“What good do they do us in storage? We’ve got an alien military base five miles away and no one thought we might need to talk to an alien in the field?”

“Don’t look at me. Budget cuts.”

The male’s face went red. “Budget cuts? We have the equipment! We don’t save any money not using it.” He took a step toward Seeran and Scott, still unmoving on the sand. “Why isn’t that guy moving? Shit, is he dead?”

Hazel took a step toward the officers. “My name is Hazel Rovelli. The human is my ex-husband. He’s violating a restraining order.”

The two officers exchanged a look. “We’re going to need an ambulance and then take everyone into the station for statements.”

“But he’s not supposed to be within one hundred yards—”

“Look, ma’am,” the tall one holstered his weapon. The other was on his communication device, presumably calling for medical attention for Scott. “I understand that you’re upset but I have a legal obligation to supply our Mahdfel friend with a translator.”

“He understands us just fine.”

“Those aren’t my rules. It’s intergalactic law.” He looked genuinely apologetic.

Hazel glanced toward Seeran, which pleased him immensely. He nodded. “Fine,” she said, “but I’m not riding with him.” She pointed a finger at Scott, still on the ground.

“An ambulance will be here soon, ma’am. They’ll transport him once they find out what’s wrong with him.”

“Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s just faking it.” She kicked the bottom of his foot for emphasis.

Scott’s leg twitched and he rolled to his side with a groan. “Bitch! That’s assault. Everyone saw you assault me.”

Rage bubbled up inside Seeran. Normally cool and serene, he kept his emotions in check. That was how a warrior kept his head in the heat of battle and that was how a Mahdfel warrior survived until the next fight, but something about this soft pink Terran made Seeran lose control of himself.

He reached down and hauled the male to his feet, all the while the male squeaked in protest. Pathetic.

The tall officer had a pistol trained on Seeran. “I need you to unhand him.”

He did not want to unhand Scott. He wanted to throttle the male for daring to lay an unkind hand on Hazel and for his insults. One Terran with a gun could not stop Seeran. It would hurt, yes, but pain could be ignored and Mahdfel healed fast. It would take more than one Terran gun to stop him from delivering swift justice.

“Please,” Hazel whispered.

His fingers relaxed one by one, letting Scott sag back down to the sand. He didn’t consciously obey his female but his body responded to her distress. Perhaps she did not want this pathetic male to be injured. He sneered at the thought.

Perhaps she didn’t want him to be injured by the Terran authorities?

The thought made him perk up, looking toward her for some hint as to her motivation. Her eyes were on him, not the others. She was concerned for his wellbeing. His chest swelled, followed by that curious sensation of anticipation coiling tighter inside him.