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deepening,
threatening. Bonnie whimpered, clearly sensing the starving dog was about to
attack. Hunting to survive.
    She glanced at the pantry, imagining all the canned dog meat
she’d undoubtedly find. She looked back at the front door and mentally shook
her head. She wasn’t going back outside, not for anything. She’d take her
chances with the dog.
    Bonnie strained against the leash as Ally maneuvered away
from the front door, edging toward a dusty round table and four chairs even as
the dog stalked forward, teeth bared and hunger all but emanating from him.
    What breed was it? Staffordshire bull terrier? Pit bull? She
couldn’t be certain. But by the look of its thick skull and strong jaw it was a
fighting machine—starved or not.
    Fuck.
    Moving around the table, she realized just how much trouble
she really was in. Her stomach lurched, fear ratcheting up to a whole new
level. Beside the bedroom door lay a half-gnawed human skull.
    The dog abruptly charged. And Ally watched as if in slow
motion, frozen inside and unable to move.
    Bonnie leaped forward, jerking the leash from her hand and
meeting the other dog halfway. The dogs crashed to the floor with canine teeth
sinking deep. Bonnie, no! The rich scent of blood tainted the air when
she forced her limbs to move. Taking hold of the nearest chair and stumbling forward,
she brought it down with all her strength on to the attacking dog’s back.
    The chair fell apart in her hands. The dog didn’t flinch.
    Bonnie snapped, twisting and squirming to shake the other
dog free. It wasn’t going anywhere.
    No time to retrieve the knife in her back pack.
    “Get off her!” The cracking, high pitch of her voice sounded
like a stranger’s. Half-sobbing, she retrieved a broken chair leg as her new
weapon of choice and had raised it high—when the bedroom window shattered.
    She jerked around. The piece of chair fell from her grasp.
    The alien picked himself up from the floor littered with
glass and the block-out blinds he’d taken down with him. Sunlight poured into
the room, almost dazzling after the darkness.
    In just a few long strides he moved to the fighting dogs.
His big hands took hold of the brindle’s snout, top and bottom.
    She looked away. The dog yelped. Bones snapped. The sounds
of fighting ceased.
    She turned back as the alien placed the dead dog on the
floor and closed its eyes with an outspread hand. In his native, alien tongue
he spoke lyrical words to the dead animal. A eulogy?
    Bonnie trotted over to her, whimpering. Ally ran a hand over
the dog’s blood-matted coat, checking for injuries and beyond relieved to find
none. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, voice breaking.
    She glanced up at the alien. Despite the hatred for his kind
coursing through her blood, for the moment at least, running from this
man—alien—who’d saved Bonnie had become the last thing on her mind.
    He straightened, his long body unfolding with the grace of
an athlete. She bit her lower lip. Up close he was even more beautiful, and
much taller than she’d first thought. At five-eight she was no short piece of
ass, but she would easily tuck right under his arm.
    Don’t be a fool. He killed your people. He’ll kill you
too!
    Yet even as hatred for the alien warred with her body’s
perverse attraction to him, another malicious voice reminded her of her
plainness. Illogical at this point of time, nevertheless it was an insecurity
she had come to acknowledge was deeply ingrained. She raked a shaky hand over
her short, practical hair, feeling sweaty, dirty and unkempt.
    His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. I had no choice but to
destroy the dog.”
    He spoke English?
    He was sorry?
    She jerked out a nod. “I know.” She wasn’t sure if the virus
changed the composition of the blood or something, but once a dog tasted human
flesh—it was like a human on crack. They became ravenous for more.
    She sucked in a steadying breath, using all her willpower to
become neutral, assess