off and wrap herself in a warm blanket, she’d feel so much better. Exhaustion hit her hard. She pulled her long, dark, curly hair into a tight grip and squeezed the water out. Then she kicked off her slippers and peeled off her top, pants and underwear until she was entirely naked. She crossed her arms over her chest, which immediately lessened the chatter of her teeth.
A nearby mirror reflected her bedraggled appearance through the dim light. She wasn’t exactly a raging beauty—more of a too-thin, too-tall plain young woman with black hair, dark eyes, blindingly pale skin, small breasts and narrow hips. She’d inherited Dad’s distinctive nose, and everyone said she looked just like him. So she’d left it alone.
She let out a heavy sigh, padded out of the restroom and quickly laid out all her clothes to dry on the backs of chairs and on any available hooks in the wall. The bed looked clean enough, although it was hard to tell in the half-lit room, but she was just that desperate for warmth and rest. Whoever lived here wasn’t coming back and she was only staying until first light anyway. In the morning she’d figure out her next step.
She pulled back the covers, lay down and closed her eyes. Worry and fear flooded her heart and mind, but then she turned her head and buried her nose in the pillow and inhaled that addictive scent, which was strongest right here.
Immediately she felt better.
Out of all the millions of locations that the transporter could’ve placed her on, why had she ended up here on this planet? And where the hell was she? She had no idea.
Logically, she should be frightened of trying to sleep naked in an alien bed but…Lila snuggled under the covers, inhaled some more of that scent, and managed to fall into a deep sleep.
3
“The front door is unlo—” Chief announced. Zayzon bumped against him, cutting his oldest brother off and shoving him forward a step. “Umph.”
They were all exhausted from the double shift at the mine. And it was hard to hear anything over the incessant pounding of the unseasonable rain. The moisture shield covering Zayzon’s mining gear did a good job protecting him against the elements, but on Timbur there were worse things to fear than the weather.
“What?” Scar yelled from behind. “What did he say?”
Zayzon shook his head. “I don’t know. Couldn’t hear.”
“I said,” their Crew Chief replied, raising his voice and gesturing towards the porch, “I said…the front door of our domicile is unlocked.”
They all collectively tensed.
“Unlocked?”
“Holy hell.”
“Exactly.” His older brother turned and glanced down at the row of resolute males crowding the porch. “Take positions,” he ordered.
All seven of them swiftly moved into place and readied for combat without a second thought. They’d trained hard for this eventuality. The click and hum of energy weapons powered up down the line. Zayzon took lead and glanced back at the fierce Xylan miners lined behind him, checking for their readiness, then he turned and gave Chief a curt nod.
Everyone knew what was at stake here—the last time they’d found a front door unlocked was the night they’d discovered both their parents murdered in their beds and the masked gang of killers still in the house, ready to take them down. Zayzon and his brothers had been surprised then, but this time would be different. No one would catch them unaware again.
“Go.”
Zayzon entered the domicile first and swept his blaster around the front room. He used his night vision to carefully scan the space and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Clear.”
Scar, Chief, Trunk, Cannibal and Heavy moved in behind.
His youngest brother, Rook, stood beside him and lowered his energy weapon and his beheading ax. “You see anything out of the ordinary?” he whispered.
“Not yet. But, I smell something…pleasant,” he admitted.
Rook’s ridges lifted in surprise. “Pleasant?”
“Stop talking,” Chief growled. “We need a complete check of the premises before we stand down.”
Zayzon gave a curt nod and got back to work. It didn’t take long for them all to check the front living area and kitchen in detail. There weren’t any outbuildings and no bay for vehicles. This was the lowest level of crew quarters—an ancient domicile left over from the initial claiming of this mining outpost by the Xylan Margol two centuries earlier.
“I don’t smell anything and neither does anyone else,” Trunk whispered as they converged again at the entrance to the back hallway, readying to check the sleeping quarters. “How can you