Destiny's Shift Read online

  “Are you okay?” he asked, surprised by the concern he felt for her. He rarely gave a shit about humans, except his fellow Warriors’ mates, of course.

  Pulling away from him, she nodded her head. “I shall be fine, and now I must say farewell. Again, thank you.”

  He watched her scurry down the alley and noticed out of the corner of his eye that she had left her bag.

  Checking the sky, he knew he was cutting it short, but he couldn’t let her go without her bag. He supposed he could bring it to her the following night, but he was leaving Phoenix, and what if she got home and didn’t have her keys? She definitely shouldn’t be out walking around this part of town at night. Only people looking for trouble were out in the hours of darkness around here.

  Breaking into a jog, he caught up to her quickly. “Hey,” he said, falling in step next to her. “You dropped your bag.”

  When he handed it to her, their hands touched, and once again he felt anxiety coursing through her, but this time it was stronger. It was so fierce he actually looked around the alley to see if there was another attacker around.

  Glancing at the sky again, he knew he had to go. He was minutes away from lighting up.

  Then she looked toward the sky and sheer panic crossed her face. “Thank you, again. In short order, you’ve become my knight in glowing armor.” She turned to leave, and this time he let her go.

  “It’s shining armor,” he said.

  She stopped and turned. “Pardon me?”

  “It’s shining armor, not glowing armor.”

  She gave a brief smile, then put her hand over her chest. Her pale skin grew paler, and her dark eyes grew wide, her hand covering her heart-shaped mouth in shock.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  “Oh my word.”

  Jovan stood there frozen, his green eyes glowing in the twilight, as her eyes slowly turned a light pink.

  Chapter 2

  Liberty stared at the huge man in front of her and watched as his eyes slowly turned an emerald green. Dressed in a long-sleeved black t-shirt, baggy jeans, and boots, he was built like a mountain.

  “Are you—”

  “You’re . . .”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, and apparently the circumstances had his tongue tied as well.

  So she tried again. “Sir, please, are you one of the Six Saviors?”

  He had to be. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t human because a human’s eyes didn’t glow with such fervor, and she recognized the emerald green color as that of the Six Savior known as Jovan. Could she possibly be in the company of a Savior? One of the most highly regarded and dignified males of her species? Who was supposed to have traveled to the afterlife?

  Her thoughts fled back to her place of employment. Why hadn’t she known him to be different from the other males? And what about the other males he had shared a booth with? Were they human or the SR44 Warriors known as the Six Saviors?

  Her head spun as she stared up at the male before her, one who had been mourned on SR44, but who seemed to be very much among the living.

  “Yes,” he said quietly, coming toward her. “I am. My name is Jovan. What are you doing here? How long have you been here? Why are you here? Are there others?”

  His voice was kind, his face perplexed. His human form was very becoming of him with his blond hair that hung to his shoulders in slight, messy waves. His smooth, tanned skin held a day or two worth of blond stubble, and his lower lip was a bit fuller than his upper. A small scar next to his eyebrow gleamed white in the darkness settling about them. As he stood before her, she felt as though she were looking up to the heavens—he towered over her so tall and broad.

  She had read the History Chronicles on each of the Saviors. They were supposed to be gone a short time, but they disappeared for more than two hundred years. The people of their planet had mourned their disappearance and assumed the Warriors had traveled to the world beyond physical existence.

  Recalling the chronicles, Jovan had been the son of royalty, as was another Warrior named Noah.

  The Six Saviors were decent males. The Chronicles had stated how they were males of integrity, honesty, and honor. Unless the Chronicles had been wrong, or this particular Savior Jovan had dramatically changed over the centuries, Liberty believed she was safe with him. Goodness, she hadn’t felt security since arriving on Earth, and the fear and uncertainty had been consuming her.

  She was exhausted.

  “That is quite a few questions, sir,” she said quietly. And frankly being out after dark had her so nervous, her stomach was in knots. Just then, she heard footsteps in the mouth of the alley, and she shut her eyes so whoever it was wouldn’t see the soft pink glow.

  Jovan took her arm and moved her back against a building, and she stumbled as he pulled her down behind a dumpster.

  “Quiet,” he whispered, and they sat in silence until the footsteps retreated.

  “We need to get out of here and find somewhere to hang for the night,” he said quietly, looking down at her.

  She sighed. Truly, she was having such a hard time with the English language, although she had reviewed it extensively on the trip. Even though she had studied the old English language, the inhabitants now, and it seemed the Warriors, spoke some type of variation on the old English that she didn’t fully understand.

  For instance, what exactly did it mean to “hang” somewhere? She had visions of bats in a cave, but had a feeling that wasn’t what this Savior had in mind.

  “And then I need to know what the fuck is going on. Why you’re here, who you are, and if there are others. Understand?”

  Liberty nodded. A little thread of uncertainty about going anywhere with the Warrior niggled at her, but then again, what choice did she have? She was barely surviving on her own, and she again remembered the positive things that had been written about the Saviors in the History Chronicles. Besides, the Warrior Jovan had been very kind to her while she served him, which was more than she could say for a lot of the males she came in contact with during her working hours. She remembered the large tip he had given her as well as the two human men he had saved her from. She just hoped that her quick assessment of him as a decent male was correct.

  He hurried her down to the mouth of the alley while taking out his phone from his pocket. “Hey, Noah,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to believe . . .” He paused for a moment, then said, “Are you shitting me?” They continued jogging. Again the language confused her, but she thought she got the point.

  He pulled her to a stop just as the alley met the street and glanced down at her. Somewhere along the way he had donned a pair of very dark sunglasses, making the light emanating from his eyes somewhat muted. What they were to do with the glow from her eyes, she couldn’t fathom.

  “Okay, man. If I can’t go back to the silo, I need a safe house. I can’t just roll into the local Motel 6,” he said into the phone.

  She wondered what a silo was, and why anyone would lay down and roll anywhere.

  He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, got it. Good travels, and I’ll see you on the safe side for some scotch. I think we’re all going to need it.”

  Jovan put his phone away, and she wondered briefly what the safe side entailed, and why this side, whatever that was, would be described as the . . . unsafe side?

  He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked down at her, the bright green from his eyes barely noticeable through the glasses.

  “See that white Hummer over there?”

  Liberty looked around, wondering exactly what a Hummer was, so she looked for something white. A behemoth white vehicle was parked about a block down.

  “I believe so,” she said quietly.

  “That’s our ticket out of here, okay? And then you and I are going to go somewhere safe for the night.”

  “Very well, sir,” she said.

  Grabbing her hand, he broke out into a run, and she struggled to keep up.

&nbs
p; Chapter 3

  They drove in silence for quite a while, Jovan feeling calmer with each mile. When Liberty’s eyes had lit up, saying he was shocked would have been the understatement of the year. There was also a moment of inner struggle for him. He knew he couldn’t leave the female to fend for herself with her eyes glowing pink, but at the same time, he didn’t want to get involved with her. Sure, he had stepped in with those two guys, but any male worth the mud on his boots would have done the same, SR44 or human. But he rolled alone. He liked being alone because it helped him keep his sanity. When he was alone, he didn’t have to worry about people’s thoughts or feelings.

  However, he really didn’t see that he had much of a choice but to take her with him. There was simply too much at stake, namely the necessary secrecy that humans didn’t find out there were aliens living among them. Hell, the Six Saviors had kept tabs on people who claimed to have seen aliens, as well as the aliens themselves that had been caught. The government was not nice to either, and Jovan and the other Six Saviors had no desire to be sliced and diced in the name of science or some other bullshit.

  He sighed. If humans knew what was living among them, there would be nothing short of a witch-hunt, with Jovan and his fellow Warriors on the top of the list, followed by the vampires. Or maybe the vampires would take first place. Either way, Jovan knew he and his fellow Warriors would be in the top two.

  The news at home hadn’t been good. He hadn’t gotten the full story from Noah, but Noah said something about the FBI being at the outside gate of the missile silo where they lived in Phoenix. Not a swarm of them, just one guy peeking around in a blue jacket with a blazing FBI logo.

  Just over a year ago, Hudson had killed his brother, a Colonist, who had told him before he died that Hudson had “no idea what’s coming for you.”

  Maybe the eagle had landed, and that fuck-all was about to begin.

  Noah had made it crystal clear that Jovan was to stay away from the Phoenix silo due to the FBI guy trolling around the property. Thankfully, Noah was always looking for investments and had recently bought a house in the Phoenix area he planned on renting out as a high-end vacation house. And that was where Jovan was headed.

  He rubbed the two-day stubble on his face and glanced over at his passenger. She twirled one of those ringlets around her finger and stared out the window while chewing on her bottom lip, looking very innocent and sweet, yet tired and worried.

  He was glad his so-called gift had apparently decided to cease and desist because he couldn’t hear her thoughts.

  Again he wondered what the hell she was doing working in a strip joint, and then he realized he didn’t know her name. He had gone through the evening calling her the French maid.

  “What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

  “Liberty,” she said, glancing at him, then bowing her head.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Liberty. I’m Jovan, in case I didn’t tell you beforehand.”

  “You did, sir,” she replied demurely with a small smile.

  He grinned back. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him with deference. He certainly didn’t get that from his fellow Warriors, and he was trying to blend in with humans, not be treated differently by them. In fact, the last time he had been addressed with a title had been on SR44, where he was treated with reverence because of his standing as one of the Six Saviors. “You don’t need to call me sir, Liberty. That’s a sign of deference, and I don’t need deference. We’re equal here, okay?”

  She turned and stared out the window, chewing on her lower lip, looking troubled.

  “What did you do on SR44?” he asked.

  After a pregnant pause, she said, “I was born into servitude.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Jovan let that one sink in. “Servitude? Are you kidding me? I didn’t think that happened anymore.”

  “Truly, Warrior, it happens. Before I left, the custom had become more popular.”

  Being born in to servitude was a long-ago tradition—the male of a royal family joined, or slept, with a female servant to produce a child. This ensured that the female servant would not leave the male’s employment, and it also gave him the right to give away the offspring to another male relative, or to keep the offspring for his own use. Jovan thought this custom had been thrown out eons ago, but obviously there were still some assholes practicing it, and it pissed him off.

  “To whom?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  She sighed. “It is a long story, sir . . . I mean, Jovan, please excuse me. I would prefer to only tell the story one time as it is so painful. If perhaps we could get to our final destination, then I could administer the story and be done with it.”

  Jovan nodded, his gut tightening. If she was here, there was obviously something going on at home. “What’s happening to SR44?”

  Liberty sighed heavily. “One time, sir. One time. The story makes my chest ache and my stomach feel ill.”

  Chapter 4

  FBI agent Blake Birmingham stood outside the fence where he could see the missile silo in the distance. Technically, he shouldn’t be contemplating jumping the fence. The property was privately owned, and he had no legitimate reason to be here.

  Well, legitimate as far as the law was concerned. As far as his small segment of the government was concerned, he should have been over the fence already and storming the silo.

  He sighed, rubbed his face, and began walking the perimeter of the fence. Looking up, he saw the cameras, but noticed that they didn’t move. He walked for a minute, then turned to look up at the camera he had just passed. Apparently, they didn’t move while he was looking at them, but the lens that had been facing him a moment ago was now pointing at his back.

  So someone was home, but evidently not in the mood for throwing out the welcome mat.

  As he walked, he recalled the package that had landed on his desk about a year ago. The contents looked as though a child or a deranged person had scribbled them. The papers talked of Warriors called the Six Saviors from a planet named SR44 that had taken on human bodies and whose eyes glowed at night. And apparently, they lived right here in this missile silo. At least that was what the package had indicated.

  Blake ran his hand over the black stubble on his head and flipped his sunglasses up, revealing his hazel eyes and looked up at another camera. He remembered he had almost tossed the whole package in the garbage, but something niggling his insides made him keep it. He had put it out of his mind until he got a phone call two weeks ago that there had been a fiery crash in the Arizona desert. Apparently, a UFO crashed and four beings who looked completely human, but—surprise!—their eyes glowed at night, were captured. At that point, Blake had brought the package out from the filing cabinet where he had buried it and studied it again.

  He had just come from Area 2, out in the middle of the Senora Desert of Arizona. Area 51, on the outskirts of Vegas, was put out there for public consumption. It was basically an operating base that did absolutely nothing but look like it was operating. It used to be fully functional, but then the public became too curious, and Area 2 was built. Everything happened in Area 2, and it was where the glowy-eyed aliens were taken. He had spent three days listening and watching interrogations of two of them. On the ugly meter of one to ten, with ten being the ugliest, he put it at about a fifteen.

  What his government was doing was nothing short of torture.

  The beings were shackled, their bodies dripping with monitoring equipment. At night, needles were inserted into their eyes, and there was talk of actually removing a couple of eyeballs to be studied.

  Blake could still hear the screams of pain as the aliens were poked and prodded, all in the name of science and understanding how their bodies worked. They had been deemed the highest level of threat to National Security and had been classified as terrorists.

  Frankly, it all seemed a little ridiculous to Blake. The aliens didn’t seem threatening at all, especially with how forthcoming they
were with information.

  One particularly interesting bit of information the aliens gave up regarding the Warriors—the Six Saviors—was that they were sent to Earth hundreds of years ago to kill the Colonists. They aliens described the Colonists as pure evil, and they even apologized for the Colonists and the problems they caused on Earth. When the aliens were asked what a Colonist looked like, the main answer was that they didn’t know, but imagined the Colonists to have human bodies. One thing they did agree on was that their souls were black.

  It quickly became very apparent to Blake that the focus of the special unit of the FBI should be to identify and catch these Colonists, not study these aliens who looked human except at night when their eyes lit up. It seemed he was the only one who thought that way though, because when he brought it up to a superior, he had been brushed off.

  For some reason, the information the aliens provided about the Colonists made Blake think of his own father. His father had been a cruel man, one who loved to beat his wife and child. They had lived in rural Alaska, the nearest neighbor over two miles away, a place where everyone kept to themselves. Whenever a beating occurred, Blake could see black ash around the house, but his mother never could.

  The day his father had beat his mother to death in the living room, she had told him that she and Blake were leaving. At age fifteen, Blake had stood by helplessly as the first fist flew, connecting with her jaw, and he knew that he would be next. In an effort to save his mother, he ran into his parents’ room, pulled the shotgun from his father’s closet, and hurried back downstairs. When his father rounded the corner, Blake shot him twice in the chest. Then he watched as his father disintegrated before his eyes into a pile of black ash. Needless, to say, that had surprised the hell out of him and stunned him into immobility.

  His father had beaten his mother to death. Blood ran from her nose and ears, and her eyes stared at the ceiling, all spark of life gone from them. Thankfully, it was summertime, and the frozen Alaska ground was pliable. With tears running down his face, he remained strong. Perhaps his strength came from the beatings he had taken his whole life, or maybe it was the determination he had seen in his mother’s eyes when she told his father they were leaving, but he was able to bury his mother that day in their small backyard. His mind and body swirled with different emotions: hating her for marrying his father and being so weak that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take Blake away earlier. Ultimately, he was destroyed by her loss.