Mate Abduction (Alien Abduction #9) - Eve Langlais Page 0,9
up to any good.
Clarabelle wanted to sigh but instead settled for muttering, “Why, oh why, is it that the universe over, when males are presented with a female, you get so monumentally stupid?”
Since leaving Zonia, she’d encountered nothing but disappointment. Planet after planet, space stations and outposts alike, all presented her with males of all types. Some almost appeared human until they blew fire from their noses or their fingertips suctioned to skin and the sweat right from the glands. Severing them broke the seal, and she didn’t feel like apologizing one bit when Vampire Fingers complained. Served him right for not asking first.
So many different types of men but, in many respects, they were the same when it came to their attitudes toward women. You would think the universe would be a more evolved place…
You would be wrong.
While the Zonians commanded respect, little human girls didn’t. Meaning they had to leave more than one place quickly, as Clarabelle showed little patience for unwanted overtures. For the moment, Ishtara found it amusing to keep track of the bodies they left behind; however, Clarabelle knew her friend’s patience frayed the longer their quest took without finding any promising leads.
Once Clarabelle finished her business in the alley, they’d be crossing the Lost Hope space station off their list too.
She tapped the comm unit on her chest and muttered, “Prep for departure.”
“Already?” Ishtara cawed in her earpiece.
“Who you talking to?” barked Buurg, obviously the leader of the gang of thugs.
“Do you mind?” Clarabelle snapped. “I’m conversing with my friend.”
“Friend. Ha!” was Ishtara’s exclamation in her earpiece. “Deal with your company and get your scrawny buttocks back to the ship.” Ishtara didn’t insult Clarabelle by asking if she needed help.
“I should just be a few minutes.” She still referred to time in Earth terms, unable—and unwilling—to change her language to the universal standards, which involved clicks and revolutions and weird terms that meant nothing to her.
“There is no escape.” Burg did his best to sound ominous. Little did he know she’d faced worse.
“You really might want to rethink this,” she said.
“Submit!”
She flexed her fingers as the thugs circled her, thinking they had her trapped. She might not have spent her time since birth learning to fight like the renowned Zonian Aliya, but she wasn’t a slouch when it came to protecting herself. While she had shit aim when it came to firearms, she was rather handy with knives.
Before the thug with two fingers and smacking bulbous lips could grab hold, she’d slashed across the top of his hand, drawing a startled hiss then an exclamation as severed fingers hit the floor. Her primary blade, with its deceptively sleek appearance, was sharp enough to slice through anything—metal or flesh, even bone, all parted like butter.
Before blood could spurt, she whirled and tossed her other dagger right into the shoulder of the next closest assailant. It punched right through, and only a loss of momentum kept it from piercing the wall behind and disappearing into another room.
The third wanna-be suitor—who had only four teeth left in his mouth and breath that watered the eyes—managed to grab hold of the back of her neck. He squeezed as he cackled. “Enough of dat, miss—Oof.”
He grunted as she rammed her elbow into his gut, and as he sucked in a wheezing breath, she slammed her heel into his thigh. The blow itself wasn’t why he dropped to the floor but rather the hidden blade that shot from her heel, activated by the intentional wiggle of her large toe. The blade had a sleeping agent as well just in case a slice wasn’t enough. He went down and stayed down.
Judging by the garbled yelling, she still had two more to go. The idiots didn’t learn by example but stuck around.
She ducked just as a meaty fist swung overhead. The training to move quickly came in useful, or she’d have been knocked into the next galaxy. Before the fist could rewind for a second shot, she popped up and pulled two more blades from her thigh sheaths.
Jab. Thrust. She drove them into two of the three thighs. When Buurg yelled, “You stabbed my dick!” she realized she’d missed one of the legs, making her briefly wonder—How the hell did he figure it would fit?
It was a good thing he wouldn’t get a chance to try. She pulled her blades loose, the edges wet with brilliant blue blood. She made no sound of warning as she pivoted and lightly tossed them at