The Alliance Boxset Books 4-6

Chapter 11-1

Chapter Eleven

It seemed to take forever before she stopped crying. At one point, she got so quiet that he was concerned that she’d fainted or become ill. He was about to call maintenance to force the door open when the sound of the shower turning on assured him that she was okay.

After dressing in a pair of black jogging pants, he called Trig to see if he would mind bringing down some food for them. Trig gave him a questioning look, but didn’t say anything. A short time later, Trig delivered a tray complete with a thick soup, bread, drinks, and dessert.

Twenty minutes after that, a very subdued and drained Sula exited the bathroom. She wore a thick towel wrapped around her pale figure, her long, white hair hanging in a limp, tangled mess around her. She gazed at him, her lower lip trembling, and he melted into a warm pile of mush in her hands.

“Let me,” he gently murmured, taking the brush from her loose fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a soft, hoarse voice. “I don’t normally cry.”

“That’s okay. I’m kinda used to it, having lived with my mom and Kali for so long,” Destin teased. “Sit on the bed and let me brush your hair. That used to work for Kali when she would get her feelings hurt or when she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Are your parents still alive?” Sula asked, sinking down onto the bed and picking up a pillow to hug against her.

“No,” Destin murmured, starting at the bottom of her hair and carefully working on the tangles. “We never knew our dad. He was in and out and finally gone by the time our mom had Kali. Our mom was a free spirit. She saw the good in everyone.”

“You… The males of your species do not stay with the female?” she asked, puzzled because she was sure that Chelsea said that Thomas helped care for their young.

“Some do, some don’t,” Destin replied with a slight shrug. “Some guys are better off not having any kids and the kids are better off without them. Our dad wasn’t made to be a dad. He liked to hit our mom. We were happier without him.”

“How… old were you?” Sula asked, glancing over her shoulder at him in disbelief.

“I was close to four the last time I saw him. Some things you don’t forget,” Destin said, nodding for her to face the other direction again. “We had a good life until Mom was murdered by a couple of guys in the neighborhood. They got hooked up with the wrong crowd.”

“What happened?” Sula whispered, her eyes burning again with tears at the thought of what life must have been like for Destin and Kali.

“Part of the initiation to join the gang was to rob a few stores,” Destin murmured. “Our mom worked two, sometimes three jobs just to make ends meet. She never complained. She said working so many different places allowed her to meet all kinds of people. She was working down at the local convenience store when two kids walked in, pointed a gun at her, and demanded the money in the register. Mom didn’t give a damn about the money but she did about the two boys. She knew them. Hell, we knew them. Someone came in while they were pointing the gun at her and it startled them. It went off. She was killed instantly.” Destin paused as he ran the brush through her hair. “Kali was seventeen. I was taking classes down at the local college. I wanted to be a mechanical engineer and build things. Most of all, I wanted to get Mom and Kali out of that neighborhood before something like that happened.”

Sula could hear the distance in his voice, as if he were deep in thought – or memories, in this case. Her heart ached for him because of the pain she could hear in his words. Her fingers twisted together as she resisted turning around. Something told her that he needed – wanted – to tell her this, but he couldn’t do it while she was looking at him. The memories were too painful for him to share while he could see the sympathy in her eyes.

“What happened after that?” she asked in an emotion-laden voice.

Destin began brushing her hair in long, steady strokes. She could feel the precise movements, as if he were using the soothing rhythm to regain control of his emotions. She patiently waited for him to speak again.

“The aliens came,” he finally said, leaning over to place the brush on the side table. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. “And the humans opened the gates to hell.”