Hunger Moon Rising Read online

  “That’s sensible,” I agreed.

  “With any luck she is heading for her domicile now,” the Commercian said, gesturing at the lightscreen where we could see our chosen female driving her strange little vehicle down a paved road filled with other such vehicles. “These Earthlings have many reflective surfaces in the places where they live—large, shiny, flat, glass panels which I believe they call them ‘mirrors’. Human females use them to check their appearance often—they are ideal for transportation.”

  “Like a 2D viewer?” I asked.

  “Exactly.” Char’noth nodded, his eyestalks bobbing. “We have only to wait until she gets to her domicile. Once she is there, I will lure her to one of the mirrors by playing discordant tones to get her attention. When she steps in front of the mirror, I will transport her directly to the station.”

  “How does your transportation device work?” Drace looked interested. “Does it use a transdimentional portal or—”

  “I’m afraid that is proprietary information,” Char’noth said stiffly in his high, squeaky voice. “We Commercians are extremely protective of our technology.”

  “Naturally you are.” I frowned at Drace who shrugged.

  “What? I like to know how things work.”

  “It doesn’t matter how it works as long as it gets the female here to un-bond us,” I pointed out.

  “You’re not saying anything I’m not already thinking.” Drace glared at me. “Can’t happen soon enough for me.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Char’noth waved several clawed hands for silence. “Look—she appears to be approaching her domicile. As soon as she is alone, I will lure the female to a mirror and transport her.”

  I closed my mouth on the angry words I’d been about to say. Soon the Earth female would be with us and the unbearable irritation of being bonded to an unsuitable mate would finally be ended.

  We all watched avidly as the female entered a large, rectangular building which appeared to house many smaller domiciles inside it. She walked down a long hallway, passing several doors, until she came to her own. Using a small, flat piece of metal which I assumed was a primitive kind of key, she opened the lock.

  Soon she would be ours.

  Chapter Three

  Rylee

  I walked in to my apartment to find an unwelcome surprise.

  My ex, Phillip, was lounging on my sofa with a beer in one hand and a belligerent look on his face.

  Great, not this—not now. After the day I’d had, a confrontation with Phillip was the last thing I needed!

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns as my Aunt Celia would say. “You know you’re not supposed to be here. Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah, babe—I forgot you.” Standing, he put down the beer and swaggered over to me with a cocky grin on his face.

  When I first met Phillip about three years before, he’d had a bad-boy air that I had found irresistibly attractive. With his thick brownish-blonde hair tied back in a pony tail and his big brown eyes he was also easy on the eyes—or he had been before he started drinking too much and spending most of his paycheck on drugs and other women. Now he had a beer gut and a scraggly, patchy beard which made him look like a bum.

  I should have given him the heave-ho long before I actually did, but I hadn’t known how deep his problems went. The drinking part was obvious because Phillip was a mean drunk. Not that he hit me—I wouldn’t stand for that. No, he just got verbally abusive calling me a “bitch” and a “fat cunt” and screaming that I was ruining his life. Which was ridiculous because he was doing a damn fine job of ruining it himself—he didn’t need any help from me. Afterwards he would cry and apologize and swear never to drink again—which usually lasted about a month before he ‘went out with the guys’ and got blackout drunk once more.

  As for the drugs and the other women, I suspected both of them but I didn’t have actual proof until the day I walked into my bedroom and found Phillip in bed with a skanky waitress from one of the grungy bars he frequented. They were trying to have sex but both of them were high as a kite so they weren’t getting very far with it.

  The waitress had a blissed-out expression on her face and she was laying flat on her back while Phillip crouched over her, fumbling with his crotch.

  “Wow, babe, that’s so good,” she was moaning. “So good. Soooo goooood.”

  Phillip had his dick in his hand—as limp as a week-old stalk of celery—and was trying to aim for the hairy forest between her legs. Only he kept poking her belly-button instead.

  “How can it be good?” he asked peevishly. “I’m not even in yet. Why is your pussy so shallow? It’s like…only an inch deep.”

  “It’s good—it’s really good!” she insisted. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, babe. It’s awesome.”

  It was a ridiculous scene and I would have laughed out loud if I hadn’t felt so horribly betrayed. As it was I just stood there for a long moment, staring at them fumbling around in front of me before I swung into action.

  I kicked them both out, threw their clothes after them and slammed the door in their faces. Later, after Phillip was finally gone, I dragged all his things out to the curb and left them there for whoever wanted them. I even got the locks changed.

  As painful as the incident had been, I was glad it had happened. It had been a wakeup call for me—the boot in the ass I needed to get me moving. Up until I walked in on my ex and his hairy-waitress-whore, I’d been making excuses for him. But seeing them having sex in my bed—or trying to anyway—had snapped something inside me. The relationship which had started out sexy and daring and exciting had turned bad, I realized—had been bad for a while. That realization had enabled me to wake up, get out, and get on with my life.

  Of course, Phillip had called me on the phone and ranted and raved and begged and pleaded. He called me plenty of nasty names—not the least of which was the N word which he had hadn’t previously dared to use, even when he was drunk—but I held my ground. I refused to talk to him, refused to see him, refused to even think about him if I could help it.

  Which was why it was so disconcerting to walk into my apartment and find him lounging on the couch like he still lived there.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, frowning. “How did you even get in?”

  He grinned, showing teeth which hadn’t been brushed in a while.

  “Called a locksmith and told him I locked myself out. He let me in—no problem.”

  “That’s illegal,” I said tightly. “They can’t just let you in because you claim to live here.”

  “Hey, my name’s still on the lease. This copy of it, anyway.” He waved a piece of paper in my face. “Had a copy in my email. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  “Maybe because you knew I never wanted to see your sorry ass again?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Seriously, Phillip—after the day I’ve had, I don’t need your shit right now.”

  “C’mon now, babe.” His voice took on a wheedling tone I used to think was cute. “Don’t be like that—I really miss you.”

  “Translation, you miss having a roof over your head. What happened, did that skanky waitress you were trying to screw kick you out?”

  His face went dark and his eyes narrowed for a moment but then he made a visible effort to smile genially.

  “She didn’t mean nothin’ to me—you know that. That was a mistake—I never woulda gone with her if I hadn’t been drunk.” He spread his hands. “But I’ve changed now—that’s all over with.”

  “Let me guess—you’re turning over a new leaf and you’re never going to drink again and now you want me back because we belong together forever,” I recited, giving him his old excuse almost word-for-word. I knew it by heart—I ought to, considering how many times I’d heard it.

  “Well…yeah.” Phillip stared at me earnestly. “I’m serious this time, babe—I even went to AA. Look, I got one of tho