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Chapter One

P resent Day

Somewhere in Space on the vessel Stealth Three

Beast

“Fuck you! Stop! You can’t make me go in there.”

Two squat, muscled guards are hauling a tiny alien into our cell block. They are well-armed, and the small female is no match for them. She struggles, kicking their shins and hurling curse words until one of them touches his wrist-comm and activates the pain/kill collar surrounding her neck.

After squealing in pain, she goes still for a moment, the full force of the shock stopping her forward motion. As they drag her to our cell, she rouses enough to moan and try to tear from their grip. One guard chuckles low from the back of his throat as he shocks her again.

I barely move fast enough to catch her—my hand cushioning her head from cracking on the hard metal floor as they toss her comatose body into our cell.

She weighs almost nothing in my arms as I place her on my bunk.

I’ve been in this cell for three days with another gladiator, Ar’Tok, a female called Willa who says her race is human, and a canine Willa has taken to calling WarDog. We’re on our way to auction. This new little female looks to be the same race as Willa, who is now kneeling next to her.

I step aside, not knowing how to help. I don’t want my large, green bulk to frighten her.

Willa cups her hand under the faucet, then dribbles water on the female’s lips.

“Have you seen this before? Two shocks in a row like that?” Willa asks without taking her eyes off the newcomer. “Will she wake up?”

“The collar can kill, but it wasn’t set that high. It fried her nerve endings with pain, but she’ll recover,” I tell her.

They call me Beast because of my prowess in the arena. Even though I’m a force to be reckoned with in a gladiator fight, I don’t welcome the sting of the shock collar. Born into slavery, I quickly learned to avoid its punishment.

The pain sizzles along every nerve in your body, stealing control of your limbs. I remember the agony as if it were yesterday even though I haven’t tasted its bite in over a decade. This little female kept fighting until she received a second shock. Only a crazy person would resist her captors like that.

I’d never seen a human before, but now that I’ve been in the cell with Willa, I can appreciate the beauty of our little newcomer. Her short, blond hair is spiky, and there’s a delicate ring in her left nostril.

A question arrows into my brain—what would it feel like to flick the tiny metal ring with my tongue?

The new female is wearing short stilts instead of shoes. After I pull them off and place them at the foot of my bunk, I see the soles are red. I wonder if it’s a talisman to bring good luck. If it is, it didn’t work for her today.

“I can’t tend to her in the top bunk. Can we keep her in yours?” Willa asks. “Do you mind taking the empty one?”

“Fine,” I say.

The cell is small, maybe ten by ten fiertos . There are two sets of bunks, a toilet, and a sink. Ar’Tok is on the top bunk over mine, Willa is on the bottom bunk across the cell. The canine sleeps next to her all night; she pets his thick fur until the moment she falls asleep.

After climbing into the bunk over Willa’s, I watch her work with the newcomer. She’s whispering soothing words to the unconscious female on the bed. I’ve never been on the receiving end of such gentle treatment.

Red Shoes rouses, starting with low moans and ending by sitting straight up. She’s so short she can do it without bashing her head on the upper bunk.

“What?” She licks her dry lips, looking around in confusion. Her eyes round in fright as she sees me. “Is this a dream?” Her eyes lock onto Willa’s as if they’re a lifeline.

“You’re on an alien slave ship. I wish I could tell you this was a dream, honey, but it’s not.”

Aerie

Fire sears through every nerve and synapse from scalp to soles. I’m no stranger to the pain of abuse, but this hurts worse than anything I’ve experienced before. I’m not just in agony, I’m so weak I’m having trouble holding my head up.

My hand flies to my neck and I feel the hard, metal collar surrounding it. It probably looks just like the one the human female next to me is wearing—stark and foreboding. I clutch the filthy mattress to keep my balance—my world is spinning.

“Alien slave ship?” I ask, hoping for a different answer this time.

“I was abducted five days ago. Beast over there tells me we’re on our way to auction.” She tilts her head toward the scary green alien perched on the top bunk across the cell.

I move my hands from the mattress to my thighs and pinch myself hard enough to hurt. As much as I don’t want to believe it, between the burning agony in every fiber of my body and the pain in my thighs, I convince myself I’m not dreaming.

Okay, Aerie, it’s not your first time at this rodeo. You’ve woken up in horrifying circumstances many times before. Maybe not this horrifying, but you’re an old hand at this. After twelve different foster families and group homes, now’s the time to move into ‘new placement mode’.

Step one, assess other humans, or in this case . . . people? Aliens? Figure out who is naughty and who is nice, who might beat or rape you, and who won’t. The human is safe, she’s trying to help—that’s good. I don’t like the way the green guy on the top bunk is eyeing me—he looks way too interested. He goes on the naughty list. And . . . did she call him Beast?

The dog looks like he could eat me in one bite. His teeth are as long as my index finger. But he’s not interested in me. In fact, as I’m assessing him, he ambles over and nudges his head under the woman’s hand to get a pet.

The bed above me squeaks, and I jump off the mattress to get a peek at what’s going on up there. Well, ‘jump’ turns out to be a figure of speech. What I actually do is half lurch and half tumble.

After winding up crouched on one knee, I haul myself to my feet. I’m looking up at a huge scary alien. His skin is pale white, his horns—yeah horns—curl over the top of his head, and he’s badly scarred over most of his body. There’s a deep gouge around his neck, as if he was garroted and only survived by a miracle.

When I get past the sheer terror, I notice he’s assessing me just as I’m assessing him—figuring out if I’m friend or foe and if I’m a threat. Considering he’s a mountain of flesh and I’m five-foot-one, I assume I’m inconsequential to him. Since he doesn’t move a muscle, just watches me through heavy-lidded eyes, I conclude he means me no harm.

Although I’d like to crawl back into bed, face the metallic wall behind me, and go to sleep, I don’t allow myself to do that. Doing a slow 360, I take in my new digs. Metal walls on three sides, metal bars on the fourth, and a metal floor and ceiling. These two guys are enormous. If they couldn’t figure a way out of this cell, I doubt I can.

I can’t allow myself to think about what will happen at the upcoming slave auction, nor do I permit myself to ponder what might happen after that. Stay in the here and now, Aerie . Except for the green guy, I think I’m safe.

“What’s your name?” the woman asks.

That’s right, make friends. It’s an excellent safety strategy.

“Aerie. And you?”

“Willa. Where are you from?”

“New York City.” I don’t add the ‘by way of every foster home in the St. Petersburg, Florida area’.

“Oh, I’m from Benson, Texas.”

I know I should pretend to make friends. Pretty brown-haired Willa seems nice enough. I just feel itchy inside, like I should do something.

After snagging my shoes from the foot of my bed, I move to the sink and wash them.

“Are these guys safe?” I whisper as I slip into my semi-clean Louboutins. I don’t care if I’m still a bit wobbly and these are six-inch stilettos, I feel better when I have them on. Between my thousand dollar pair of shoes and my gray power suit, I feel like I have on armor and am ready to march into battle.

“The gladiators? I’ve been in here with them for three days. They haven’t laid a hand on me. Beast over there caught you when the Urluts threw you into this cell. If he hadn’t, I think your skull would have cracked open.”

“He seems a bit too . . . interested.” My eyes dart to him and catch him looking at me.

“He doesn’t talk much, neither of them do. You and I are new at this. I don’t think they are.”

The ship rapidly shifts course. The movement is quick enough to make me grab onto the vertical support of the bunk bed. Another lurch is so sudden and jarring I lose my grip and fly across the cell.

Beast must have amazing reflexes because he jumps off the top bunk and catches me before I crash against the unforgiving wall. He's safely tucked me in his arms as he slides us both into my bunk. I’m facing the wall, he’s plastered to me, his back exposed to the room.

“Hold onto the bed frame,” his deep voice rumbles into my ear.

His hands surround me, gripping the frame to keep us from being tossed off the bed. Perhaps the slavers kept me in stasis on my trip from Earth. The first thing I remember since walking in my parking garage is about five minutes before they tossed me into this cell. I don’t know much about space travel, but I’m pretty certain this frantic maneuvering is not standard operating procedure.

A high, grinding whine pierces my ears. It sounds as if a laser is building power, just like in the science fiction movies I like to watch. Then a deep rumbling burst. Unless the movies got it all wrong, I think our ship just shot at something.

“What’s going on?” my voice is high and panicked.

“Battle.”

Willa was right, Beast isn’t a talker. I have no idea why, at a time like this, I become aware of the hard male body hugging me tightly. The skin on the muscular arms that surround me is mottled metallic green. The alien green is beautiful against my flesh. His voice at my ear is rich and husky; his warm breath drifts across my cheek.

I caught enough of a glimpse of him when he leapt off the bed to save me to notice he’s wearing nothing but a loincloth to cover his sex. His granite-hard arms cling to the bed trying to keep us from either being crushed against the wall or flung onto the floor.

I have no idea what possesses me to release my hold and turn in the circle of his arms, but I do. My back is jammed against the unforgiving metal surface of the cell, but the harsh pressure is on the periphery of my mind, which is wholly consumed with taking inventory of Beast’s face.

He sports high cheekbones and a perfectly-formed nose, the bridge is surrounded by five gold rings. His hair is variegated deep green and ebony dreads pulled into a knot at the top of his head. It’s long enough to graze his ass. His lips are light peach that somehow look masculine and ultimately kissable.

I’ve never thought of a man’s lips as kissable before, but his are.

I glance into his emerald eyes. They’re looking at my lips with as much intensity as I looked at his.

The lurching movements of the ship, the whine and boom of laser fire all fade into the background as Beast and I share this moment.

Maybe what they say about danger is true. I read that people who go through trauma together are more likely to fall for each other. Well, this is trauma, and if we get out of this alive, I want to attack those kissable lips.

His cock, covered only by thin fabric, is hardening against my belly. If we live, perhaps there’s more in store for us than kissing.

The battle moves from background to foreground when a deep, metallic blast reverberates through the ship. I hear a sharp cry from Willa, and peek over Beast’s shoulder to see her crouched under her bunk, WarDog nestled against her.

Ducking back into my green protector’s embrace, I call, “Willa, are you okay?”

“Terrified!”

Yeah, aren’t we all.

The ship stops dead—the most jarring movement since the battle began. I lurch against Beast’s hard body. Then the ship is still and almost silent. There’s a static, crackling buzz that sounds like electricity.

Beast backs off the bunk and helps me to my feet. At some point in the battle, Ar’Tok left his perch above us and pressed himself into the corner of the cell. He unfolds to a standing position and must be pushing seven feet tall. Beast offers a hand to Willa and pulls her out from her hiding place.

“I’m guessing it’s Marauders,” Beast says.

Ar’Tok looks impassive as Willa asks, “What’s that?”

By the look on the two gladiators’ faces, I don’t need to hear the answer to know it’s terrible news.

“Crazies. Bands of aliens of every race who attack ships, board them, then rape and kill the inhabitants. The lucky victims are killed then raped, not the other way around.”

The mental picture this brings to mind chills me to my marrow as bile rises in my throat. I want to ask questions, but really, I think he just gave me all the information I need.

“If it’s Marauders,” Beast pauses, making certain he’s got my full attention, “I can kill you quickly before they open the cell. Tell me if that’s what you want.”

Those beautiful green eyes pierce mine, full of compassion. “You’re not joking,” I say. It’s not a question.

He shakes his head. “I could snap your neck before you know it. If you were my sister or mother, I’d urge you to let me do it.”

I feel tears trail down my cheeks. I thought I was handling the whole abducted-from-Earth-and-slated-for-auction thing pretty well. But being raped and killed by Marauders? This brings the shitshow to a whole new level.

I nod twice to Beast, stifling the ‘thank you’ that almost spills from my lips. I can’t force myself to thank him for this small mercy.

“And you, Willa?” he calls over his shoulder, not veering his gaze from mine.

“Umm, yes?” she says and nods her head.

A snarky Aerie who lives inside me and offers a running commentary on my life says, so let me get this straight, the best thing that happened to you today is that the hunky gladiator you just met offered to snap your neck? Not your best day—not by a longshot.

The sound of scattered gunfire grabs my attention. Willa called our captors Urluts. It’s hard to believe, but after what Beast told us, I’m rooting for them over the Marauders.

“Females, get behind Ar’Tok and me. Someone’s going to barge through those doors in a moment. If it’s . . .” he lets his sentence drop. We all know what’s coming next if it’s not the tusked, porcine guards who enter the cell block. If this was a movie, dramatic music would be building in the background.

My heart is pounding, my carotid thumps in my throat. Feeling my hands tremble, I fist them at my sides.

Shouting and laser fire assault my ears, then silence. One faction won, the other lost. All that remains is to see who crashes through the cellblock doors.

What happens if they’re all dead? Do we just die slowly of starvation until one of the big guys decides cannibalism is a good idea? At least we know they’ll snap our necks quickly and won’t make us suffer.

The doors at the end of the hallway snick open and a huge, muscled male strides through. Is he a cyborg? He’s got a prosthetic eye and arm.

“Are these Marauders?” I whisper.

“I don’t—”

“Prisoners!” the cyborg shouts.

“How many?” This is a woman’s voice. The shocking part is I didn’t need the subdural translator they equipped me with to understand her.

My head whips toward Willa. “Is she speaking English?”

“Sounded like it to me.”

The woman enters, laser rifle drawn as her gaze flies to our cell. She sure looks human. Well, like a tough, take-no-prisoners human. Her brown shoulder-length hair surrounds a pretty, no-nonsense face.

“Human?” she asks us, not paying attention to the cyborg guy or the tall milk-white fellow who joins her in the hallway.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Where from?”

“New York,” I say as Willa says, “Texas.”

“What are your football teams?”

I guess that’s her method to determine if we’re really from America or not.

I say “Giants,” as Willa says “Oilers.”

“Okay. Who are you two?” She points her rifle at Beast then Ar’Tok.

“Beast,” he says pointing at his chest, “that’s Ar’Tok.”

“Why are you locked up?” the cyborg guy asks. His red laser site rests on Beast’s chest as the woman’s beam steadily points to Ar’Tok’s heart—at least I assume that’s where his heart would be.

“On our way to auction,” Beast replies.

“What’s your trade?” the cyborg asks.

“Gladiators,” Beast answers.

“I’m Shadow, this is Savannah and Theos. Our ship, the Fool’s Errand , was just attacked by yours. I guess they didn’t expect us to fight back.” He winks his good eye and gives us a wicked smile. “We’re twenty-five escaped slaves on the run. We can’t offer you safety, but we can offer you your lives. Care to join us?”

“We need to check in with Captain Zar,” Theos, the milk-white male says as Shadow finds the pressure plate to release our cell door.

“They've hit Steele!” The urgent words come over all three of our rescuers’ wrist-comms.

“ Drack ,” Cyborg guy says. “Do you need help getting him back to our ship?” he asks into his comm.

“No. Finish your sweep,” is the response.

Ten minutes later we pass through the airlock connecting our two ships and are welcomed aboard by about twenty people. The males are all different species, the females all look human.

“I’m Anya,” says a happy young woman with a riot of curly caramel-brown hair. “This must be so much to take in. We all just survived a space shootout. I wish I could say it was my first. Let me show you around and take you to your cabins.”

She turns and calls over her shoulder to a humongous Neanderthal-looking guy, “Dax, can you take the males to their cabins? Show them the ludus on your way.” She turns to Willa and me and says, “Most of the guys on the ship are gladiators, too. Even those that say they don’t want to fight anymore spend half their time in the gym—they call it a ludus .” Raising her voice, she says, “Zar wants us all to meet in the dining room at 2100 after everyone gets a moment to rest.”

My head is spinning as Anya gives us a rapid-fire grand tour through the ship. I’ll never remember half of what she’s saying. I know I’m not the only one who’s overwhelmed when I glance over to see Willa’s wooden expression—she’s in shutdown mode.

“You’re all slaves?” I ask, trying to gather enough facts to figure a way out of this mess.

“We used to be, but we overthrew our masters. They were Urluts, just like the tusky guys on your ship. I must be scaring the hell out of you. I’ll slow down and let you take a breath. All you need to know right now is that you’re safe. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know everyone, including my mate, Zar. He’s the captain.

“I’ll get you settled into your cabins. They lock from the inside. I’ll have someone bring you food. The dining room full of people might be a bit much for dinner tonight. Zar will announce when it’s time to come to the meeting. You’ll get proper introductions there.”

She drops Willa at her cabin and shows me into the room next door, then leaves.

I pee in the adjoining private bathroom, then plop on the bed and take a moment to look around. The room is twelve by twelve and reminds me of my college dorm. I have no complaints—it’s certainly better than the cell I vacated less than an hour ago.

I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to get my thoughts and emotions to catch up with my circumstances. Dear Lord, I’ve been abducted, incarcerated, survived an epic battle in space, and now I’m in a dorm room with a private bath.

Having no idea what time of day it is, nor what 2100 means, I decide to catch a nap if I can get my racing adrenaline down to a dull roar. At the meeting, I’m going to demand a ride back to Earth where I can return to my life, which was shaping up rather nicely.

I think I slept for a while, but I’m wide awake now. When I relive the past day, my fear jacks up to the point where I’m trembling. I almost died. When I get back to Earth, I’m going to reevaluate my priorities.

Of course, I’m having this conversation with myself while I’m lovingly wiping the grime from my Louboutins. I know I shouldn’t be so attached to these shoes. They’re a symbol of wealth that I don’t really have. My credit cards are maxed out—most of the charges are to Nordstroms for nine pairs of these ostentatious shoes with the thousand dollar price tags.

Who could see the red sole and not know that the wearer of these shoes has arrived ? Little do they know that sad, abandoned little Aerie, whose mother died with a needle in her arm and whose father scattered to parts unknown before her birth, still resides inside my skin.

After taking a shower, I dampen a towel and skim it along my gray suit, trying in vain to clean the dust and smooth the wrinkles. I may be a million miles from Earth, but I still want to make a good impression.

“Females and males,” a masculine voice interrupts my reverie from a hidden speaker in my ceiling. “I’m requesting all souls on board to meet in the dining room. We need to welcome our four newcomers and discuss options.”

“Discuss options?” The two words clang in my head like one of those anvils Road Runner is always dropping on Wile E. Coyote. Options? Like returning us to the other ship to float aimlessly in space? Like the others could become our masters and we could remain slaves? After a day like today, the only ‘options’ running through my head are horrifying.

It takes me a minute to figure out how to get out of my room. Note to self, just place your palm on the metal plate that looks like it’s made to fit your palm.

Several people are walking in one direction, I get in step and follow them.

“Wait up!” Willa calls as she hurries to my side. “What do you think ‘options’ means?” she asks, her tone tight with worry.

“I thought I was just being paranoid, but his comment sounded ominous to me, too,” I admit.

The ship is stark, with metal walls and flooring. No one spent a moment or a dollar trying to decorate or brighten anything.

“I can’t wait to get back to Earth,” I tell her.

“That makes two of us. I hope that’s one of the ‘options’.”

Approximately one hour later I’m praying for the ability to teleport from the dining room to my cabin. Tears are threatening to spill out of my eyes and I don’t want anyone to see weakness. That’s rule number two of being in a new place.

I’m already breaking rule number three by sharing anything resembling genuine human emotions with Willa. That rule is: don’t get close to anyone. My rules have kept me from dying or going crazy in many perilous circumstances.

The meeting started amicably enough, with introductions all around. I won’t be able to remember half their names, my mind was already filled to overflowing with fear and worry. I wasn’t able to pay attention to minor details like name, race, or where they hail from.

My takeaway was that the males are almost all different species from each other, and most of them either were or still are gladiators. Luckily we have three pilots and a doctor on board. That will at least keep us healthy and flying.

All the males practically genuflected at Beast’s feet when they found out he was the Beast of Tramachor. Evidently, he’s a bigshot gladiator whose reputation is known in every corner of the galaxy. All the males were as impressed as I would be if Prince Charles dropped in for a cup of tea.

Although Beast barely said a word, the other gladiators seemed starstruck.

There was good news—no one wants us four newcomers to be slaves. Yay! The bad news is that Willa and I didn’t come directly to the slaver ship we were on. We had been in stasis pods on our way from Earth to where we eventually wound up.

One woman on board formulated a complicated algorithm to convert space days to the Earth calendar. When I told her the date I was kidnapped, she reluctantly informed me that was over three weeks ago. For Willa, it’s been over a month since her abduction.

“You can’t go back to Earth,” the other women told me repeatedly.

Savannah, who rescued us from the other ship and says she was a marine, said, “You can’t explain your absence. If they found out you were rubbing elbows with aliens in space you’d wind up being dissected in some underground cell in Area 51.”

All I need to do is ponder her words for a minute to know they’re true. The knowledge that there are aliens out there would shake the foundations of over half the world. It might start a religious war between ‘believers’ and ‘non-believers’. If I came back with the big disclosure, I’d be silenced. I shudder as pictures of how they might silence me float through my mind.

A long discussion ensues regarding what to do with the newly-acquired spaceship we just vacated.

Later, Zar sums up the discussion, “It seems we’re evenly divided between those who want to stay as one group, leave the slave ship as space junk, and continue as if nothing has changed. Some want to divide into two groups. There are pros and cons to both schools of thought.

“Tyree, I’d like you to pilot the new ship. Doctore, Savage, and Aries, I’d like you with him. Your females can go with you or stay here; it’s their choice. We’ll make the other ship habitable, keep the two airlocks connected, and give ourselves time to sort things out.

“To our newcomers,” Zar continues, “everyone must pull their weight, but we’ll give you time to find your place. Several of our males no longer wish to fight in the arena, although we all fight for our lives as we did today. All options are open to you.”

“Except going home,” snarks out of my mouth before I realize I said it.

“Sadly, yes,” Zar nods as he agrees. He’s muscular and furred and has the face of a lion. His golden eyes are compassionate.

“Maddy is an excellent cook. Breakfast is served at 0800,” a blue male informs us. He’s not as muscular as the other males. I believe they call him Dr. Drayke.

“Maddy was a sous chef at Spago,” one of the females chimes in. “Yum. All the comforts of home . . . almost.”

Several people file over to Willa and me, welcoming us personally. Someone explained that most of the people on board were thrown into cells with someone of the opposite sex about six months ago. After the insurrection, many of them have become mated pairs. Some maintain ‘friends with benefits’ status.

Most seem to file out of the room in pairs, although a few of the males are still surrounding Beast. They’re acting as if he’s Mick Jagger and Bruce Springsteen all rolled into one. I guess in this part of the galaxy, gladiators are the rock stars.

I tell Willa to go back to her cabin without me. A minute ago I couldn’t wait to run to my room, but now I don’t think I can force my feet to carry me.

My mind drifts to that nowhere place I used to retreat to all the time. That full-of-fear place I’d hide in when little Aerie was thrown into a new foster home. My mind would run every equation of how to escape, including being scooped up by Prince Charming and carried off on a white horse. Sadly, I could never fantasize my way into liberation then, and it’s not going to work now.

You’re on the Fool’s Errand now, Aerie. And face it, things could be worse. You’ve got three hots and a cot, and it sounds like the food will border on gourmet. The people all seem nice, and you don’t even have to work right now. Time to enjoy a well-earned vacation.

I didn’t even notice that I’ve risen to my feet and am walking past the cluster of males pressing around Beast.

“I’ve watched the vid of you vanquishing the Galgonian on Aeon II a thousand times,” gushes a golden male whose neck is so thickly muscled he makes Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson look like a weakling.

Glancing at Beast, I assume he’ll look pumped up like a male peacock in a coop full of peahens. He shows no outward signs of pride.

“Imagine,” Theos, the pale guy who rescued us, says, “a Pinnacle in our midst.” He said that as if it was a form of worship.

“A Pinnacle fighter, here on the Fool’s Errand ,” the gold male echoes.

I force my feet to move in the direction of my cabin, hoping to find the right one. My emotions war between fear and hopelessness. This is familiar territory. I’ve spent a lifetime honing three ways to cope with this feeling.

My go-to technique is work. I got my law degree at twenty-three due to sheer hard work and late hours. Since then I earned the reputation at my company as the employee most likely to arrive early and stay late. Some of my colleagues might think I’m brown-nosing or looking to move up in the corporation. They’d be shocked if I told them the only reason I do it is so I don’t have to be alone in my own company.

The second method that tames my spiralling emotions 100% of the time is my newly-acquired shoe-buying addiction. It works like a charm to keep my thoughts from circling the drain. Now that my credit card balances are astronomical, I’ll need to combat that obsession. Wait. What am I thinking? I won’t have to worry about curbing my desire to go to Nordstroms. I think the Urluts did that for me.

The third no-fail strategy? I turn my head to look back down the hall as if I could smell Beast approaching. Yep, there he is. All six-foot-eight, two-hundred-fifty pounds of shimmering green muscle.

I wasn’t wrong when we were on the slave ship and I decided he was attractive. It wasn’t just the fact that I thought I was going to die any minute. No, he’s still just as appealing as he was several hours ago—maybe more. And his lips are still kissable. In fact, they’re beckoning me.

The third technique to make my crazy worry-thoughts quiet to a whisper? Fucking.

And I know who my top applicant is.