Page 4

Mia sat on the cargo bay’s chilly floor between Kira and Leona, not far from the other women Zoran and his merry band of warriors had abducted. It had taken a full five minutes for the frenzied welcome to die down. No one had known she’d been abducted, too, and none of them had a clue why they were there beyond what another woman had shared. A diplomat who’d met her warlord during negotiations between the Xeruvians and Earth had dropped by to check on them. Mia added what information she knew. Some greeted the addition with curiosity, others with fear. Thankfully, no one had broken down in hysterics. They were scientists, after all, and largely rational creatures.

Kira drew Mia’s hand into her lap, clenching it tightly against her stomach. “You promise this Zoran character hasn’t hurt you?”

“Well, he hasn’t exactly been a gentleman,” Mia hedged. “His clothes seem to fall off of him whenever he enters his quarters.”

Leona’s mouth curled into a sultry smile. “Do tell.”

Mia laughed, relaxed now by the sheer normality of their conversation, as if they weren’t stranded on an alien spaceship thousands of miles from Earth, surrounded by giant alien warriors who wanted to make babies with them. “Honestly, Leona. You’re the only woman I know who’d think more about acquiring a new lover than escaping.”

“When opportunity knocks.”

Kira narrowed her eyes in a withering glare that did nothing to dampen Leona’s fun. “We should be more concerned about our eventual disposition. You said their culture is dying?”

Mia nodded and tucked a stray strand of hair behind one ear, giving her a clearer view of Zoran where he stood across the bay. “Their database—”

Leona sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes suddenly greedy for something besides sex. “You have access to their ship?”

“Just the database, I think. It’s incredibly comprehensive, almost like an encyclopedia, but so much more.”

Kira leaned forward, her hold on Mia’s hand loosening. “How much more?”

“Ancient texts more,” Mia said, her gaze going distant as she recalled the items she’d skimmed. “Research studies more. I think it includes just about everything they could lay their hands on. Some of it’s so old, it hasn’t been translated into their modern language yet, let alone English.”

Leona whistled between her teeth. “I know some of the women here who’d like to get their hands on a database like that.”

“Every one of us would,” Kira said quietly. “But what did you learn that’s pertinent to our current situation?”

Mia retrieved her hand from Kira and pulled her knees tight against her chest, crossing one foot over the other for whatever warmth the layering provided. The cargo bay was a lot colder than Zoran’s room. It was a wonder the other women were doing as well as they were with the thin blankets Zoran’s men had given them.

“Well,” she began, “the trouble began with a series of natural disasters, though they see them as one. The Xeruvians, that is. They believe those disasters released a natural virus that infected the population and killed or sterilized many of their women.”

Leona pounced on her wording. “ They believe? What do you think happened?”

Mia shook her head, and her hair slithered around her shoulders, partially hiding her view of Zoran. She peeked at him anyway, caught by the tension in his shoulders, the strong tilt of his chin. The curl of those magnificent horns. He turned his head, zeroing in on her gaze as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. A flush heated her cheeks, and she yanked her eyes down, shutting him out.

“Not enough data,” she said. “I haven’t had enough time yet to comb through their database.”

“But there’s something,” Kira murmured, “or you wouldn’t hedge so much.”

Mia nibbled on her lower lip, remembered the feel of Zoran’s teeth nibbling along her neck, and blew out a breath. Curse that man and his infernal corruption. “I think we should make it a priority to reexamine the evidence independently of the conclusions drawn by the Xeruvians.”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” Leona said.

The pride shining in the other woman’s eyes warmed Mia in an entirely different way, earning her a shy smile. “That’s me, the trusty research scientist.”

Kira huffed out a tiny laugh, and her expression relaxed for the first time since Mia had joined them. “If we could only reason our way out of this situation, I would be satisfied.”

Leona turned a speculative gaze on Zoran. “I say we take advantage of the situation first and reason our way out of it later.”

“Typical,” Kira muttered.

Mia laughed. “So you’ve been approached by one of the warriors? I’m assuming there are more than the few we saw the day they abducted us.”

“I’ve counted maybe a dozen so far,” Leona said. “But no, they haven’t approached us yet, even to give us food and water.”

“Not once,” Kira confirmed, then shivered and hunched into herself. “They do come in and stare at us quite a bit.”

“Any one in particular?” Mia said.

Leona reached forward and grasped Kira’s hand, squeezing gently. “No one’s going to try to force you into an arranged marriage, sweetie, not again. They’ll have to go through me first.”

“I don’t think they’ll use force.” Mia shrugged. She risked another peek at Zoran, and just as quickly looked away, before the mere sight of him corrupted her again. “He’s given me a couple of days to come to terms with it.”

The color drained from Kira’s face, leaving her skin an odd ashen-honey color. “A couple of days! And then what?”

Mia nibbled on her lower lip, her shoulders drooping. “Then he wants to have sex.”

“So he’s going to force you,” Leona said flatly.

“No,” Mia replied quickly with a firm shake of her head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s testing me somehow.”

“He’d better not test you farther than you’re willing to go.”

“Would that be logical, though?” Kira said. “To force you when he and his people so obviously need our help?”

“I don’t know if logic has anything to do with it,” Mia admitted. “He’s been kind.”

“The least he could do after abducting you.”

The molten steel in Leona’s voice touched Mia deeply. She unfolded and draped an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, then touched her temple to Leona’s. “He seems too honorable to resort to force.”

“I think she’s right.” At Leona’s hot glare, Kira shrugged. “If these Xeruvians wanted to harm us, they would’ve already. They’ve had ample opportunity. Some of us have been singled out, yet the men remain apart from us. Not a one’s invaded our privacy beyond helping us to be as comfortable as we can be, and that from a distance.”

Leona sighed. “There is that. Personally, I think they’re waiting to see how things turn out with you and the big guy, Mia.”

“So, no pressure, huh?” Kira said wryly.

Mia wrinkled her face into a frown. “Thanks, Kira. That makes me feel a lot better.”

The comment didn’t draw the smile from Kira that Mia had been hoping for.

“What about this other woman?” Mia said. “The diplomat.”

“Fully mated,” Leona said. “Sex and all. Apparently her warlord is quite the lover.”

Mia blushed under Leona’s playful leer. “Stop it. We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Kira’s frown deepened. “There’s more to it than sex, though, isn’t there? And, what did you call it? Mating?”

“Yes,” Mia said. “That’s the term Zoran uses.”

Kira nodded. “I think we were chosen not because we’re young and presumably fertile. Look at the specialties chosen. You’re a crop scientist. Leona is a linguist.”

Leona’s gaze had gone thoughtful. “I can’t see them needing an exoplanet specialist, but you hold minors in geology and climate science, don’t you?”

“Yes, exactly. Emma Mitchell’s a noted immunologist. She’s worked with the CDC and published at least a dozen papers. Isabella Rossi is an evolutionary biologist.”

Mia’s gaze swung to the other women. “Mara Sullivan’s an engineer. Elara Vega’s also a climate scientist.”

“Who published a paper on terraforming a near-Earth exoplanet,” Kira said. “And Mara has worked on both the Alcubierre drive and interlocking habitation modules for colonies on the moon and Mars.”

“My God,” Leona breathed. “It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. They’ve got everyone they need to establish a human colony on their planet.”

“Zephyria,” Mia said absently. “Or to terraform it to make it more habitable for human-alien hybrids.”

Kira paled even more. “Think of the resources needed to undertake terraforming, even as subtle a change as that.”

“Yes,” Leona agreed. “They must be incredibly devoted as a society to the outcome of abducting us.”

“Having children with us,” Mia said. “Their species is dying. If humans were threatened with extinction, what would you do to save us?”

“What wouldn’t I do?” Leona countered.

“Abduct innocent males of another species?” Kira shook her head. “They must be very determined indeed.”

“Which makes it unlikely that they’ll let us waltz off this ship,” Leona said.

It took a minute for the implications to sink in, and when they did, Mia’s shoulders slumped. “He’s not going to let me go, is he?”

All three turned to look at Zoran. As if sensing their stares, he abruptly pushed away from the wall and stalked toward them wearing that intense look he got sometimes, one she couldn’t quite interpret yet.

“Uh oh,” Leona said, a hint of her familiar smirk curving her mouth. “Speak of the devil.”

Mia harumphed at that, then Zoran reached them and squatted in front of her, a determined glint lighting his green eyes. The other women fell silent, even the ones on the far side of the crowd. Mia could nearly feel them turning Zoran’s way.

He nodded solemnly to her, then to Kira and Leona. “You must ask the women to sit against the wall, for their own safety.”

“Ok,” she said slowly. “Why?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been humor. “Training. We lack another space for practice. Rest assured that the women will not be harmed.”

“Oh. Well, we could move to another room—”

“That will not be necessary, little klika .” Half a dozen humongous alien men entered the bay and spread out behind Zoran, their gazes as intense as his, their horns as deadly looking. Abruptly, Zoran stood to his full height, stripped off his shirt, and held it out to her, leaving his muscled chest bare above the low-slung waistband of his pants. “Today, I fight for you, milady.”

Mia’s heart skipped a beat as she meekly accepted the garment. It was warm in her hands and his wildly masculine scent clung to it. Without thinking, she pressed it to her chest, her eyes wide.

Then the other alien males stepped forward in near unison, each before a human woman, and did exactly the same, stripping off their shirts and handing them over, voicing the same, almost ritualistic sentiment.

Including, she was surprised to note, the two who singled out Kira and Leona.

Leona tilted her chin at a challenging angle as she accepted the shirt of the male who stood before her. Kira shook her head until her male knelt and murmured comforting words to her, then placed the shirt in front of her as an offering.

Mia remembered then what Zoran had asked her to do and glanced toward the other women, but they had already pushed back against the wall and were staring wide-eyed at the men gathering in the middle of the cargo bay.

“What in the world?” she murmured as she scooted backward, still holding Zoran’s shirt.

“I think we’re about to witness a stunning display of their strength,” Leona said, her mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Yummy.”

Mia rolled her eyes. Trust Leona to take it in stride.

Almost guiltily, she searched out Zoran. He was staring at her as he stretched the long length of his body, his muscles flexing and bulging under his smooth, tough skin. A tattoo flashed on his left pectoral, one she hadn’t noticed before. To be fair, she’d been trying not to ogle him every time he dropped trou in front of her. A thrill shivered down her spine and she swallowed, wetting a suddenly dry throat, unable to look away from the molten promise in his gaze, from the sheer strength and agility of his body. The slight sheen of perspiration turned him into a sculpture, like David if Michelangelo’s masterpiece had had horns and made his living wielding a sword or whatever weapon Zoran used.

Somehow, even with the horns, Zoran was better—living flesh instead of marble—and he was looking at her like he wanted to push her onto the floor and lick her until she came apart beneath him.

Something deliciously hot and wicked throbbed through her, and she clenched her thighs together, trembling beneath that look, scorched inside and out by the sheer amount of want he leveled at her.

“I am in so much trouble,” she whispered.

“Honey,” Leona purred, “that’s the best kind of trouble to be in.”

Zoran stretched facing Mia, his back to the jostling and joking warlords preparing for a mock battle behind him. Her brilliant blue eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, and she held his shirt to her breasts as if it were a lifeline. He had not missed the way she pressed her face into it after he’d given it to her, breathing him in as a mate would. Reveling in his scent the way he wanted to revel in hers.

He felt the air behind him change ever so slightly and bared his fangs in fierce glee as he rolled out of the path of a strike. A staff thumped into the bay’s metal floor where he’d been a moment before, creating a dull ringing sound. He had brought no weapon here, thinking only to give his female time with her friends, but he had no need of one. Every male here had trained as a fighter since the moment they could stand on their own. A warrior’s body was his deadliest weapon.

Zoran gazed up at Ryrda, the fiercely loyal warlord of Clan Ashur. The other warrior easily topped Zoran’s height by a hand’s span and outmuscled him as well. They had long been friends, as many of the warlords were, having trained together as younglings. Perhaps that friendship had swayed Ryrda to Zoran’s cause, for he had been among the first of the warlords to side with him against the more traditional Xeruvians. For that, Zoran owed him respect and a like loyalty.

Still, he could not resist a mild taunt. “Your female rejected your offering.”

Ryrda rolled his massive shoulders, his hard expression unchanged save for the lightening of his eyes. “The courtship has only just begun. My protection is but the first of many gifts. Your own female has not fully accepted you either.”

Zoran stood slowly from his crouch, acknowledging that truth with a spare nod. “Shall we show them some measure of our strength?”

Ryrda clicked his teeth together in agreement. “So that they will evermore know the depth of our protection and loyalty, aye.”

It was the only warning Zoran got. Before the last word left Ryrda’s mouth, the warrior flicked the staff up and jabbed it at Zoran’s ribs. Zoran curved his body out of the way, caught the staff with one hand, and pulled it up over his head as he twisted around. Ryrda was too much the warrior to fall for that old trick; his grip on the staff loosened, and instead of being pulled forward off balance, as a less experienced fighter would, he dropped down, holding the staff’s other end in one hand, and attacked.

Zoran grinned, relishing the fight as much as the opportunity to demonstrate his prowess. Relishing the energy it burned off so that later, he could return to his woman at peace with himself, fully in control of the desperate need pressing against his skin, of the instinct urging him to claim her, to take her, to bind her to him.

Show her , it whispered, echoing his mother’s wisdom, show your mate what you are .

They fought until each male had been bested once, accepting their defeat with the equanimity of well-disciplined minds, bodies, and souls, their kii in perfect harmony. Winning had not been the purpose of this exercise, and so, none felt shame at being outmaneuvered by a warrior whom they knew they would best on another day, at another time. They were too evenly matched to stand for long against each other.

Zoran accepted one last hand clasp from Eirik, who had at last brought him down, then he turned to the human females, as the other males had, his gaze unerringly meeting Mia’s. She sat where he had left her, one hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and unblinking, his shirt still clutched to her chest. Seeing it there filled him with satisfaction until he thought he’d burst from it.

She clung to this small part of him. Perhaps she would come to accept him after all.

One by one the other warriors approached the mates the Fates had selected for them. One by one, those warriors lifted those women into their arms and silently carried them away. Even Ryrda, who had initially been rejected by Mia’s dark-haired friend, was able to steal her away without protest.

When the last warrior had filed through the hatch with his chosen mate, Zoran strode toward Mia and knelt before her. “Milady, you honor me with your trust.”

Her breath hitched, catching on her words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing, pjora-la .” Fate-given, to be honored above all.

“What does that mean?”

By way of answer, he lifted her carefully off the cargo bay’s cold metal floor and held her against the steady thrum of his heart, ignoring the stares and whispers of the remaining females. She placed her palm against his chest and hesitantly rested her head against his shoulder, and he trembled beneath the simple beauty of her touch.

Mia lay in the cradle of Zoran’s arms, cuddled firmly against the heat of his body. His warmth felt so good after the cargo bay’s chill, and part of her, some wild, heretofore unknown part, wanted to wallow against him until that heat warmed her inside and out.

Another part of her panicked at the very thought of how attractive she found him. What was she thinking, cuddling up to an alien warrior like this? An alien warrior who’d spirited her away from her home like some virgin bride in a trashy Romance novel and now wanted to, what? Implant his seed in her womb?

She sputtered out a half-hysterical laugh. It sounded so ridiculous, how could she not find humor in her situation? Here she was, halfway across the galaxy from Earth for all she knew, being carried through an alien spacecraft by a man whose biceps were bigger than her thighs, so she could help him repopulate his planet.

Another laugh hiccupped out, and she banged her head gently against his chest. Yup, that was her. A helpless damsel, caught in the middle of an improbable Romance, awaiting the pleasure of her new lord and master.

A door whispered open. Zoran stepped into his room and walked straight into the bathroom. He dropped one arm and let her slide down his body, his darkening gaze never leaving hers. Without saying a word, he stretched one arm past her and turned on the shower.

“What are you doing?” she said, her voice so thin, she could barely hear it above the water’s trickle.

His expression shifted subtly, morphing from hot promise into a gentle, teasing humor that made her knees weak. “The next transition is soon.”

“Um. Sure.” She shook her head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we must rest now. Would you not prefer being clean for your sleep?”

“Oh, um. Yes. But…” She stared helplessly around the room, uncomfortably aware of his body planted inches from her, filling the small space with his presence. Of the precious water warming in the shower stall behind her, and of the heat pooling between her thighs. “Together?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged his shirt gently from her grasp and dropped it to the floor, then unfastened his pants and slid them down, slipping his boots off with the same fluid grace, leaving his body beautifully nude. Her throat dried up again, and the protest she tried to muster stuck there. A formless mewl came out in its place as his hands cupped her shoulders and he eased her into the water, robe and all.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “But I’m still dressed!”

“For now.” He turned his back to her and knelt in the tiny space, gathered bathing scrubs in his hands, and scraped it off on his shoulders. His hands came down on his thighs as he resettled with his knees touching the shower’s floor. “Would it be your pleasure.”

It took her a moment to understand that he was asking her to bathe him in that politely formal way of his. She looked helplessly at her hands, so small compared to the breadth of his shoulders, so inescapably human next to his scarred, decidedly unhuman skin. What could it hurt to touch him, to learn the dips and valleys of his muscles, to explore every inch of him with her bare hands?

Like the lover he wanted her to be.

A sharp tingle started in her secret womanly parts, and she sucked in a breath. Oh, yes. She was in deep trouble here.

And still, she could not resist the lure of his body, or the curiosity rising in her. The need to learn him, to retake some measure of control over her life. What would he feel like? How would he react to her touch? Would this shower be the end of it, or was this the beginning of an elaborate seduction on his part?

He waited patiently, expectantly, as if her cooperation were a foregone conclusion.

That steadfastness moved her as much as the knowledge that she was wasting precious water by stalling. Tentatively, she placed her palms on the slopes of his shoulders and rubbed, lightly tracing the ridges of long-healed scars and tautly defined muscles. The bathing scrubs lathered under her hands, and that somehow made it so much easier for her to justify running them up his neck in slow circles, to tangle her fingers in his short, silky hair, to glance the back of her hand across the edge of his horn, just to see what it felt like.

A low moan rumbled out of him, and he dropped his head back, resting it against her stomach. “More.”

Instinctually, she rinsed one hand off and ran it gently over the horn curving around the right side of his head. She’d expected the toughness of bone, and it was that. But it also had different textures, rough hatches in the larger part attached to his head near his temple, smoother at the tip.

The latter fascinated her. She ran her fingers over the sharp point, and he sucked in a breath and turned his head into her hand, murmuring soft words she had no hope of understanding, even with the wrist device he wore acting as a translator. She wanted to ask him to speak louder, loud enough for the device to pick his words out over the patter of water.

It seemed too rude, so she asked cautiously, “You like that?”

“Your touch feels…” He paused for a long moment, nuzzling his horn into her palm. “Electric.”

Her heart fluttered. Yes, electric. That’s exactly how it felt to touch him.

He shifted below her, widening his knees, and that jerked her back to reality. Right. They were wasting water. Quickly, she leaned forward and filled her palms with what passed for soap among his people, then she scrubbed him briskly, kneeling to reach the hard curve of his back, daring to run her hands over the firm curve of his bottom. Asking him to lift first one arm then the other, watching, fascinated, as his muscles flexed and bunched the way they had during the training exercise.

Once done with his back, she scooted around him, laughing breathlessly at the tight space, and he accommodated the change in positions with a measure of the patient good humor she’d come to expect from him. She smoothed her hands over his chest, took a moment to examine his tattoo—round in shape, the lines oddly broken, obviously ritualistic in nature—and filed it away for future questioning. He lifted his chin for her, allowing her to cleanse the thick column of his throat, and she slowed down long enough to make a brief study of the masculine lines, the hollow at its base, the warmth pervading her just from watching him swallow as water cascaded gently over his face, wetting her as much as him.

She shifted once more and ran her hands down the tight skin over his ribs, counting one more than human males had. Evolution? Devolution? She shook her head and scrubbed his abs, an eight pack of defined muscle that made her drool despite the distinct lack of a happy trail. No one had ever accused her of being a man chaser, but boy, was Zoran turning her into one.

Then his upper body was clean, and she had no more excuses to postpone the inevitable. Quickly, she gathered her courage and urged him to stand, and nearly got a face full of his jutting erection.

“Oh, my God,” she gulped, her eyes wide.

“It will not bite,” he chided gently, and she laughed helplessly and gathered more bathing scrubs in her hands.

Yet it was his hands that cleansed himself there, in brief strokes over his length and between his thighs, his hands that encouraged her to soap down the long, muscled length of his legs and across each foot in turn as it was lifted for her. His hands that urged her to stand and tilt her head back into the water’s thin stream.

His hands that slid under the neckline of her robe and pushed it off, baring her body to him from throat to feet.

He stood there for a moment, gently cupping her shoulders, his heated gaze molten on her skin. Finally, he rasped out, “The Fates have bestowed a great blessing upon my clan.”

A strangled laugh worked its way out of her throat, and she found herself again helpless when he reached behind her and soaped his hands and bathed her as methodically as she’d bathed him. More so, she thought dimly when he spread her thighs and worked two fingers into the folds of her femininity, sliding them along her skin until the tingling warmth gathering there stole her breath and her heart thudded against her sternum and her knees trembled, forcing her to lean against the stall’s slick wall.

And the way he looked at her, like he never wanted to stop touching her. His hands slid up her hips and over her ribs, his thumbs flicked across her nipples, and she gasped and held onto his shoulders and prayed both that he’d never stop and that she’d find a way to resist the need he stirred so easily within her.

He scrubbed her hair, gently scratching her scalp with his claws, and rinsed her off, then she blinked and they were out of the shower and he knelt before her again, rubbing a towel over her skin. A brush appeared in his hand, and he turned her and brushed her hair until it was nearly dry, holding her upright with a firm hand at her waist, the tip of his erection brushing wetly against her spine. Then he lifted her into his arms, carried her to his bed, and tucked her into it as if she were five.

Only, she wasn’t five. She was a grown woman, and he was a grown male, and as he curled himself around her, the rigid length of his erection pressing into her bottom and lower back. She was sure now, oh so certain, that he’d press his advantage while she was helpless and weak and needy, that he’d shift his hips and push that hard length against her core and take her then and there, promises be damned.

He whistled the lights off and rubbed the tip of his horn against her temple. “Sleep, little klika . The transition comes soon.”

She gazed at the clock on the screen above the bed, watching it count down as he relaxed behind her and fell into sleep like he hadn’t just given her the single most erotic experience of her life. Like she wasn’t still tingly and needy and aching for his touch, as if some part of her weren’t waiting for him to roll her over and take her.

As if she weren’t beginning to want that from him, and more.

“So much trouble,” she whispered, then fatigue washed over her and sleep caught her in its merciful grasp.