Protector:A Scifi Alien Romance(28)

“I’m not a gentleman,” he told her.

She snorted and pulled the trousers on. They were far too big, and she took a second to cinch them in. The jacket would hide the fabric gathers.

After stashing their clothes in an empty cupboard, they headed down some stairs and into the main kitchens.

The area was bigger than Lore had expected, and busy. Servers and chefs of numerous species were moving to and fro. By the far wall, a row of chefs were busy preparing the food, steam wafting into the air.

Lore nodded his head, and he and Madeline moved deeper into the kitchen area. He scanned the room, but didn’t spot anything that looked like entrances leading to secret underground fight rings. There were pantries and storage rooms, with kitchen staff bustling in and out.

Frustrated, he stopped. They couldn’t risk asking any of the workers. Suddenly, Madeline grabbed his arm, her fingers squeezing.

“Look,” she murmured.

Off to the right, against the wall, two big aliens were coming out of a room marked ‘storage.’ The man and woman didn’t look like kitchen servers or chefs. They looked like hired muscle.

Lore and Madeline waited until the aliens had moved off, and then hurried in that direction. They stepped through the doorway, and instead of a storage room, they found a set of stairs leading down into darkness.

He grabbed Madeline’s hand and they headed down.

“Galen isn’t going to like this,” she whispered.

“Just a quick look around, and then we’ll get out.”

She nodded, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a dark tunnel lit by infrequent lights set into the walls.

“Doesn’t look new,” Lore mused. “In fact, this tunnel looks pretty old.”

They hadn’t gone far when a foul stench slammed into them.

“Oh, God.” Madeline squeezed her nose, revulsion on her face.

The reek was unimaginable. The tunnel came to an end at a closed door in the wall. Lore cautiously pushed it open.

It was an entrance to the sewers.

“Someone must have repurposed some of the old sewer tunnels,” Lore said.

“Charming.”

“Let’s go a bit farther.” He pulled out a towel stuffed in the pocket of his server jacket. He passed it to her, and she pressed it to her nose.

“What about you?”

“I can decrease my sense of smell.”

“Handy skill to have right now.”

They headed into a larger tunnel. It was round, with a walkway on one side of it. The rest of it was filled with a river of dark, murky water that stank.

Keeping to the walkway, they followed the tunnel’s twists and turns. Soon, they reached a junction where the tunnel branched off in two directions.

“Look.” Madeline pointed to some half-dried footprints on the ground, heading off to the left. They followed. They passed a few alcoves that were clearly designed for the storage of sewer-maintenance equipment.

Moments later, Lore heard the echo of voices moving toward them. Drak. They couldn’t be caught down here. How far back was it to the last alcove? He glanced ahead and spotted one not far away.

He grabbed Madeline’s hand and yanked her forward. She stumbled, but kept up with him. He slid into the tight space, pressing his back against the rock wall. He slid down, and pulled Madeline into his lap. They were wedged into the small space, barely hidden by the shadows.

Madeline tilted her head, clearly listening to the guards getting closer. He felt her tense, and then she shifted a little, her round bottom brushing against him.

Lore pressed his mouth against her ear. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on right now?”

Her breath hitched. “Yes. The stench is horrible.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I can only smell you.”

“Shelve the charm, Lore,” she whispered. “Now’s not the time.”

“Only if I can use it later. And my tongue. It’s a clever one.”

She sniffed. “I wouldn’t know.”

He grinned to himself. “Let me show you.”

“Shh! They’re nearly here.”

The voices were louder and now he heard the clank of chains.

The guards moved past, herding a prisoner between them. Madeline’s gaze was locked on the guards, revulsion crossing her face. Both guards were Srinar—with tumor-like growths on their faces caused by the plague that had decimated their species and set them on a path to becoming scum of the galaxy.

Then Lore looked at their captive. The man was made of ropes of hard muscle, no fat on him anywhere, and skin darker than Madeline’s. His chest was bare, and crisscrossed with ragged scars. He wore torn, filthy trousers. His black hair was shaggy, and he had a face that looked like it was hewn from the stone around them.