Claimed By The Touch-Starved Alpha Beasts

to the wild jungle. It was a labyrinth of polished st

owed a step be

in their tracks. They would snap a rigid salute to Jefferson, but the

she was a miracle. It was a hungry, desperate kind of

t and rubbing her own shoulders. She stepped closer to Je

son no

is right, perfectly positioning his body between Cassandra and the staring sold

y dropped their gazes t

was holding. She looked up at the back of Jefferson

contained a simple bed, a metal table, and two chai

inted to the

attress. She pulled her knees up,

room. He didn't look at her. He raised his left wrist, tap

xcept for the rapid tapping of Jefferson's fingers a

ext-some alien, some looking suspiciously like English letter

water on the floor before practically fleeing. Cassandra

owered his wrist. Th

ng exhausted. The rigid posture he ma

sandra. His icy blue eyes

red his

Jeffers

ndra

e syllables carefully measured, and his accent was thick and metallic.

earing a language she understood, after hours of

, spilling over her lashes

gh escaping her lips. She nodded frantically

the back of her dirty ha

e said, tapping his comm-link. "I...

ice. The technological gap

oor, picked up the tray of food, and brough

o eat," he

wled loudly, betraying her hesitation. She picked up the spoon and took a small

r eat for a moment b

, practicing the heavy syll

ng heavy emphasis on every syllabl

d, swallowing t

back. "Med-i-cal wing... now," he instructed

ned. Hospitals. Doctors. Scans. The

him, her eyes w

looked down at her, his expre

low, steady rumble that vibrated in th

s. She saw no deception. Only

the spoon dow

whispered. "