Free Chosen by the Alien Above 1: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial by Nora Lane Page A

lungs and made me feel alive, even as it worked to kill me faster.  
    Good luck with that.  
    I leaned over and dropped the smoldering stub into a half-empty soda can. It fizzled with a flash as it hit the bit that got warm before I could drink it.
    Soda was delicious. I loved it. But it had to be ice cold. Let one get warmed up and all of a sudden you could taste all the nasty chemicals hidden inside. I didn’t do lukewarm soda.
    I didn’t have time for it.
    The only major downside of soda and cigs was the aftertaste. Sure, it was the perfect combo going in, but now, after they’d settled in for the stay.
    Not so much.
    My mouth tasted like wool gym socks. Felt as fuzzy too. No toothpaste conquered it. Gum helped. There weren’t any conclusive studies showing gum’s bad effects on your health.
    Yet.  
    Probably just a matter of time.
    Everything was bad for you these days. The air. The water. The food. Most people cared about all that because they expected long and happy lives.
    Not me.
    My diagnosis made any thought of a future beyond the next cheeseburger and fries pointless. You don’t fall for big dreams when life promises nothing but nightmares.
    I blew out a lungful of smoke. It was a non-smoking room. Whatever. The acrid stink of cigarettes wasn’t making much of a dent in the musty smell of boiled feet. The room was a frozen frame of dilapidated disintegration. It was a shock the place hadn’t been condemned.
    Count my lucky stars.
    I couldn’t afford a room not in danger of demolition.
    Too miserable to sleep. Too excited to care. Or was it the other way around?
    Still, I needed sleep. I tired easily lately. They said to expect it. They said to expect a thousand other, far more horrible things so I was pretty okay with just being beat.
    Tomorrow wouldn’t be easier exhausted and running on empty. I rolled over and the scratchy sheet rolled with me. I peeled it off my back with a grimace. What I wouldn’t give for a freezer to snuggle.
    Bright green LED numbers on the clock radio painted the walls a ghoulish hue. 1:52 AM. The fan on the table struggled to push thick air through the room. It buzzed and creaked and complained like it knew the effort was pointless and resented my insistence on it trying.
    Florida in August was inhospitable to life. I assumed all the old people that felt otherwise had high-powered air conditioners.
    Small wonder this hotel was dirt cheap and wide open with vacancies. No one stayed a second night. You either drowned in your own sweat, or survived and swore to never insist on saving a few measly bucks again.
    A high-pitched buzz zoomed by my ear. I swatted at it and snarled.
    Damn mosquito. I hated those things. I was all for God’s creatures and all that. In my apartment, I captured spiders and set them free outside. Roaches too. But mosquitoes? Those little bloodsuckers deserved death. It wasn’t the blood thing so much. Yea, the bites were itchy. And I knew you could catch various diseases. West Nile was making the rounds lately.
    Honestly, the mosquito should be more concerned about what it might get from my blood than the other way around.
    It was the buzzing. The incessant dive-bomber buzzing. You close your eyes, relax, and float right up to the edge of sleep…
    and BZZZZZZZZ. Right in your ear.
    I made the mistake of opening the window earlier, thinking the fresh hot air outside would be better than the stale hot air inside. It was. Only it was also an open invitation to all twenty million mosquitoes that festered in the swamp across the highway.
    Seriously, what hotel room in Florida doesn’t have screens on the windows? This one. This place was a shambles. Clearly neglected. Way passed its expiration date. You didn’t waste time caring for something destined for imminent destruction.
    It was cold logic. It made sense.
    I knew more than most.

CHAPTER TWO

    That said, mosquitos deserved to die. Especially any foolish enough to invade my personal space. It’d