Sohut's Protection: A Sci-fi Alien Romance (Riv's Sanctuary Book 2), A.G. Wilde [13 ebook reader TXT] 📗

down. Her head banged against the bars and the sharp piece of metal she was holding dug into her palm.

Dizziness overtook her before the cage crashed into the side of a tree.

There was a searing pain in her head and her knee, and Cleo groaned as she tried to get her bearings.

The world felt upside down, as if gravity was not the right way around, and she soon realized why when the smell of soil drifted into her nose. Her head was against the bars now pressing into the soil and her hair was over her face, obstructing her view.

The soil had a strange metallic smell, not like the dirt on Earth, and it helped make her focus.

Still, it took her a few moments to realize her plan had worked.

Fuck, it’d worked!

A shout somewhere in the distance, no doubt from one of the green aliens, had her jerking into action.

The bars.

She had to force the bars free.

With the piece of metal in her hand, Cleo spun onto her back, her gaze moving over the bars at the top to spot one of the slackened bolts she’d seen earlier.

All she had to do was lodge the sharp metal she’d found between the bolt and the metal bar and hope to God phase two of her plan worked.

She could hear the aliens somewhere in the jungle arguing stupidly with each other, in no haste to chase after her.

Their mistake.

She’d be gone before they found her.

She only had to break free now.

As soon as she managed to lodge the metal between the bolt, she braced her legs against the bars at the top of the cage.

Straining, she pushed as hard as she could, willing the cage to budge even a little.

Her leg muscles protested with the effort, but the bars didn’t even shift.

Goddamnit.

She couldn’t fail now. Not this close to freedom.

Pushing harder, she willed all her strength into her legs as she applied more force to the bars. Her back was pressing into the bars below her, her spine against one of the bars themselves, and it felt as if she was going to cripple herself.

But she couldn’t give up.

She couldn’t.

She could do this.

She heard the alien’s voices again, and this time they seemed closer.

“It must have rolled this way.”

“You find it. I’ll dump the dead fuhol. Looks like the slizz is dead too. Phekking, draxx. That’s a teruva coin lost. I’ll have to dump it as well.”

“Why do I have to go for the human jekin?” It sounded like he was whining.

“You want to dump the dead ones then?” the other answered.

There was a disgruntled sound, and she assumed the alien was dragging his feet as he headed her way.

She had no idea how far she had tumbled, but she was sure they’d find her shortly if she didn’t get her ass out of the frickin’ cage!

But no matter how hard she pushed, the bolt wouldn’t disengage.

In pure frustration, Cleo kicked the bars and the cells rattled. They rattled so hard, the sound echoed into the quiet jungle—but they budged a little.

She could hear the rustle of leaves as the green alien approached and she began kicking, not caring that she was making noise now.

She needed to get out.

She almost lost her balance as a part of the bar bent outward, the bolt flying off. The sharp piece of metal she’d lodged in the spot fell back on her chest, and she stared at the open space in shock.

It was open.

Open enough for her to squeeze through.

She didn’t hesitate.

Righting herself as best as she could, she grabbed the sharp piece of metal and hoisted herself up.

Her head and shoulders fit through the space as she pulled herself through. Bracing her arms on the outside of the cage, she pulled her legs through next.

The sound of the bushes rustling was really close now.

He was coming.

She just about jumped from the top of the cage when she saw one of the burly green aliens appear through the undergrowth.

His eyes met hers and his giant maw opened in surprise.

Incompetent fool.

She couldn’t help the glimmer of mischief and triumph that she knew appeared in her eyes.

They’d underestimated her. Costly mistake.

Without so much as a backward glance, Cleo began running.

Running for life.

Running for freedom.

And hopefully not running toward a sooner death than the one she’d been fated for before.

Behind her, she heard a loud cry that sounded suspiciously like one of the aliens being attacked by something fierce.

There was a rustle of bushes, but she wasn’t looking back and she was stopping for nothing.

And so she ran.

She ran as fast as her weak legs could take her.

She didn’t stop when branches ripped into her dress or when she stumbled over roots and fell.

She kept going.

Deeper into the jungle she went, as far away from the alien captors as she could reach. And when her lungs and her legs couldn’t take it anymore, she stumbled, falling against the thick trunk of a tree.

Sliding down against the tree, Cleo leaned her back against it and sat on the ground.

It didn’t sound like he was pursuing her.

She must have lost him.

That thought brought a feeling of relief and hanging right on to the tail end of it was a surge of fear.

Now what?

What’s the next stage of the plan, Cleo?

Problem was, there was no plan.

She’d half expected her effort to free herself from the cage to fail.

Chest heaving as she took deep breaths, she tried breathing through her nose slowly and evenly so she could focus on listening.

At the back of her mind, there was the pressing thought that night was approaching.

She needed to find shelter.

Y-shaped branches, Cleo. Her father’s voice rang true.

If she could find some branches of that type, she’d be able to create some kind of shelter on the ground.

As she began searching for the branches, she froze.

She could feel it—it was an unmistakable feeling, a sort of sixth sense—the knowledge that something was watching her.

That sixth sense had served her well for twenty-five years; she wasn’t