His to Claim: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance - Taylor Vaughn Page 0,1

that might have been a river a few millennia ago. On the other side of the Reaper wall, my parents and just about every human not getting bred or reaped had gathered to watch the scene unfold.

I still can’t make out much, but I hear Elle and her half-Xal baby sobbing wildly as she begs the Reapers not to tear them apart. And I can tell they’re ignoring her pleas, when all but two of the Xalthurians start advancing on her in a precise arc.

“Elle!” I scream, squinting into the blur of Xalthurian uniforms.

My gut cramps in fear. I’ve seen a few last minute tug of wars over baby boys before. But no one, and I mean no one has ever defied the Reapers this badly, not just by running but refusing to hand the baby over.

I can’t imagine what they’ll do to my sister. Maybe shoot her dead, like the hot-headed young men who futilely try to save their girlfriends from the Breeding Ceremony. I’ve got to help her—that’s all I know. It doesn’t matter if they punish me, too.

I lunge forward, but my parents grab onto my arms, holding me back with all their might. “Don’t,” my mother whispers on the right side of me. “I told her not to get attached to that thing.”

I recoil at her dismissive tone. “It’s not a thing, Mama. It’s her baby!”

“A baby she knew from the start she wasn’t ever going to be able to keep.” Mama stares back at me with a bitter expression on her haggard face, which is a used-to-be-pretty version of my sister’s. “It’s like the leaders keep telling you girls. You can’t treat the boys like real babies. She knew that. We all know that!”

Then Mama yells out, “Elizabeth, just give them the baby! Don’t make it any harder than it has to be, girl.” Her voice is aggrieved, as if the only one responsible for this precipice stand-off is my sister.

My throat clogs with tears. I, too, hadn’t been able to harden my heart against the unnamed swirled baby. This very morning while Elle warmed up water to give him a bucket bath, I’d cooed at him and marveled at how his little clawed hand folded around my index finger with a stronger grip than any human baby I’d ever encountered.

They were really going to take him and never let us see him again. No, I had to help her. But my parents held strong, my father insisting in a hard voice, “If you interfere, they’ll snap your neck. Without even thinking about it. I saw them do it to folks plenty of times during the first few breedings and reapings before we learned to stay back. You can’t help her, Kira. They’ll kill you before you even get close. Look at them!”

I do … I do look at them. And he’s right. Even in blurry vision, the Reaping Force soldiers are huger than huge. The tallest full human in our village stands a little over six feet, but I’ve never encountered a Reaper who stood shorter than seven.

I’m close enough to the wall of soldiers surrounding my sister to tell this multi-colored Reaping Force is heavily muscled on top of being tall, without even an ounce of fat that I can see underneath the sleeveless silver jumpsuits they wear.

Their uniforms gleam underneath the sun, like they’re made of some kind of metal. But unlike the few metals New Terrhans have managed to make down here on our scraggly planet, the uniform material molds over their thick bodies like a second skin.

At least, most of them wear silver uniforms. One of the Xalthurians who hadn’t advanced with the rest of the Reaping Force has on a gold jumpsuit. He has deep dark blue skin, white hair tied back in a top knot, and a commanding air. I sense his importance, even before he turns his head with a predatory grace to address one of the jade green diplomats in those strange clicking, back-of-throat scratching sounds that the Xalthurians called their language. Maybe he has some kind of authority here?

As if confirming my guess, the jade Xalthurian calls out to Elle in a smoky accent, “Hand over the Xalling. Hand him over now and our Tel promises, you will not be made to suffer for what you have done here today.”

My blood boils with rage. Once they take away Elle’s baby, that would be suffering. A lifetime of suffering that my sensitive sister will most likely