Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 6: Fever

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Lauren
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"Why hello there."

The man who held the gun aimed at Peter's head regarded us with a solemn expression, his wavy blonde hair shifting as he tilted his head to the side. The young man couldn't have been much older than Peter and I. A white dress shirt adorned his svelte form while a pair of light-brown khakis hugged slender legs.

"Who are you?" the blond demanded, his gaze swerving in my direction. His bow-shaped lips twisted down in a frown, sky-blue eyes flicking to a spot behind the door. "Reese."

Another pair of long legs entered my field of vision. A tall, muscular figure stepped out from behind the door. Before I could react, my arm was grabbed and I was dragged into the room. 

"Hey!" I shouted, attempting to break free from my assailant's powerful grip. The rich, dark-skinned man forcibly wrestled me across the threshold and into the room.

My jaw dropped in astonishment at the interior. The apartment was an extravagant loft with grey walls and a polished linoleum floor. The interior reflected a cozy modern design, with spotless white marble kitchen counters and beautiful decor. It must have cost a fortune to live here.

My blood ran cold when I spotted the giant pool of dark scarlet streaked across the floor behind the island.

Attempting to jerk my arm free, I glared at the imposing figure holding my arm. "Let go!"

The dark-skinned man didn't bother responding, shoving me to the ground next to Peter. My elbow knocked against the vinyl floor hard, a curse flying from my mouth as I rubbed the sore appendage. The door to the apartment was slammed shut and the mystery man stalked in our direction. Peter positioned himself between me and the gunman.

"You okay?" Peter rasped over his shoulder, placing a hand on my knee.

I nodded, gripping the back of his shirt. I caught a glimpse of my companion's exhausted face and my stomach sank. Shit, he didn't look well. Peter's tan skin was pallid, the capillaries in eyes rimmed with red with dark circles beneath his lashes. Anxiety gnawed on me when I spotted spots of scarlet bleeding through his bandages.

The brute who had muscled us into the room faced the back corner, folding his toned arms over a broad chest. He appeared to be in his early twenties with a head of short black curls. Defined muscles stood out beneath the tight fabric of his blue jacket. I didn't want to admit it, but the guy was good looking.

"Nice going, moron, you led them right to us," he scolded with a smoky baritone voice, hazel eyes staring down a figure propped against the far wall. "Seriously, Josiah, what were you thinking?"

My eyes moved to the slender man leaning against the window. Long auburn hair hung just shy of his shoulders and with the combat boots and flannel jacket, he reminded me of a member of a boy band that I'd crushed on once upon a time. "Calm down, Reese. I don't see what all the fuss is about. They're just normal people," Josiah shrugged as he leaned against the armrest of a charcoal loveseat. "And they looked like they needed help."

"Uh, yeah, until they shape-shift back into their hideous alien forms and eat our brains for dinner!" Another voice piped up from the center of the room, far more strident than the rest. A blond lying on the couch chimed in, almost identical to the man holding the gun, though his rumpled clothes and lounging demeanor gave him a more laid-back attitude.

My gaze roved over all four men in surprise. They couldn't be much older than us. How the hell were these guys the only survivors we could find? Regardless of the answer, I recognized that we were outnumbered. We had no weapons, so if it came down to an all-out brawl, we would surely lose.