Page 35 of The Dreamer and the Deep Space Warrior (Xaal Alien Romance #1)

Isobel

She was adrift in star-scattered oceans of black.

Every time Isobel tried to grasp at consciousness, she was only pulled further under. It didn’t matter how much she clawed and fought against it.

It was endless.

Until it wasn’t.

Without warning, she was spat out. Her eyes snapped open.

Blinking red and yellow lights blurred before her. They were blinding, and she retreated from them, rearing back until her head hit something hard.

She closed her eyes again and tried to breathe.

There was a deep pain within her—digging into her skull, sitting on her chest. She wanted to cry but didn’t think she had the energy for it.

Just breathe . It became a mantra as she focused on manually inhaling and exhaling. At first, every breath was a battle. But then the tightness in her chest loosened incrementally, and her other senses came to the forefront .

There was an undercurrent of sound like standing in a tunnel while harsh winds blew through. She was cold and lying on something hard. When she tried to stretch her legs out from her curled position, no matter what direction she moved them in, there was a wall.

When she dared to open her eyes again, what she thought had been blazing beams were nothing but a handful of small indicators. They were the only source of light in the entire space.

The very small space.

She was trapped.

Fighting against nausea and the spinning in her head, she sat up.

She’d only overindulged in wine once and experienced the aftermath of doing so, and this was ten times worse than that.

When the room righted itself, she took note of everything.

It was shaped hexagonally with what she could only describe as a fancy-looking chamber pot on one side.

They had locked her in a lavatory?

The idea was so ludicrous that she barked a hysteria-filled laugh. The effort of which sent her into a coughing fit.

When she was free of the attack, she wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes. She needed to get ahold of herself. Straightening her spine, she took a more logical look at her situation.

She’d been captured by Ved’s enemies.

She was no longer on Earth.

At least, the steady thrum of the ship and the feeling of movement led her to believe that was the case.

Which meant, even if she could get out of the lavatory, it wasn’t as though she could escape from the ship.

Ved had explained that there was no breathable air among the stars—the blackness was a void.

“Then what?” she murmured to herself.

Waiting for her captors, whoever they were, to decide her fate was hardly ideal, but she had no real choice.

She pulled her legs to her chest and buried her face in her arms. What time was it?

How long had she been away? Had they hurt Clara and Henry?

Bile rose in her throat at the thought, but even if they were unharmed, they’d be so worried about her.

She had to believe they were alive, and undoubtedly searching for her at that very moment. The alternative was unthinkable.

Would they think she ran away? Did they know she’d been torn from her bed and abducted?

She chewed on her bottom lip worriedly.

Minutes or hours later, the locked door of her makeshift cell slid open with a hiss. Isobel backed up as far as she could from the hulking Xaal that stood in its entry.

He said something in Xaala over his shoulder before looking back at her with an assessing glow. “Do you know what we call creatures like you on Dremas?”

When she didn’t respond, he repeated it, slower, with the words less chewed on. It still took her a solid minute to understand that he was speaking her language.

“What?” she asked quietly.

He laughed—an ugly sounding thing. “ Chegar. Filth.”

Lovely.

He could probably see her indecision on her face—her desire to insult him was visceral, but she also realized she was at his mercy.

Being a proper woman didn’t matter here. The insult won out. “Yes, well, at least I’m not dishonorable ,” she spat. If she’d learned anything about Xaal, it was that they held honor above all else. And whatever this was, it wasn’t honorable in the least .

He moved so fast, she didn’t have time to defend herself against him. He wrapped his hand around her throat and pulled her upright, bringing her face to face with him.

“Only a weak Xaal would feel anything for something so frail and insignificant,” he snarled.

“But he’ll come, chasing the scent of you like a mutt.

And then you’ll both be put down. Perhaps the qon will let me deal with you.

I’ll slice your flesh from your bones and feed it to the Kroids while you’re still alive. ”

His pronunciation was so much rougher than Ved’s, but when she detangled what he said, something shattered inside of her. The threat, the promise of torture and death, made her stomach roil. But it wasn’t what bothered her the most right then.

They thought he would come for her.

Even if it wasn’t true, she’d let them think it was. “Vay,” she rasped in Xaala, then, in the universal tongue, “Ved will erase your carbon trace.”

Admittedly, it was unwise to anger him further.

“He can try, but I am Sabis of Clan Rax,” he garbled proudly before letting out a stream of Xaala. He squeezed her throat harder until she was unable to breathe and the red of his eye shields blurred. She clawed at his gloved hand.

She was going to die. Her thoughts went to the night she’d shared with Ved, the moment flashing through her mind in a series of sensations and emotions.

It had been the most liberated she’d ever felt.

Her vision darkened at the edges, her lungs burned for air.

And still she could feel Ved’s hands on her.

And then, all at once, Sabis released her. She fell in a crumpled heap, gasping for air.

“Get up,” Sabis barked as he loomed over her .

With her hand covering her abused throat, she gained her footing. Hesitantly, she followed him out of the lavatory. Her legs were weak and wobbly beneath her, but she tried not to let it show in her steps. Strength was the only thing they respected, and already she had not made a good showing.

Isobel had read countless adventures with fearless heroines in impossible situations, but as much as she tried to pull their bravery around her like armor, she felt only a numb understanding that she probably wouldn’t make it out of this situation alive.

Especially once they realized that Ved wasn’t coming for her.

Their ship was similar to Ved’s, but the interior metal was a lighter color and there were more indicators on the walls. Though recognizable, it felt nothing like the dark ship she’d come to know and love.

Sabis led her into a room that had a metal table bolted to the floor and another Xaal.

His silver armor was dented all over and as soon as they stopped, he rounded on her.

She tried stepping away, but he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip.

She struggled, but it was futile. The accompanying coolness of something hard locking around her neck had her fully alert.

When Dented Armor stepped away, she reached to touch the metallic collar.

It was clasped fully around her throat, but not tight enough to choke her.

Sabis said something to his comrade and handed him a small object. When he pressed on it, it clicked in his hand.

The collar gave off a low buzz like a hundred raging wasps—which was immediately drowned out by her screams. Pain like she’d never known before radiated from her neck all the way through every part of her body, as deep as the marrow in her bones.

She fell to the ground and writhed, scratching uselessly at the binding until her nails bled.

She was drowning. She was burning alive. Was this the punishment for a night with Ved? For losing her propriety? For not being satisfied with the role she was to play?

Was this hell, then?

When it stopped, her body still convulsed with phantom currents.

“Up,” Dented Armor commanded.

Isobel tried to rise to her feet, but between the immense weakness she felt and the fact that her nightgown had wrapped and twisted around her legs, she ended up falling back again.

“Up, chegar !” he snarled.

She was plunged into the hellfire once more. Her throat became raw from the screams ripping out of her. This agony was unconfined by what she’d known pain could be. It was all encompassing, burning her very soul.

When it was over, seconds or hours later, a boot slid under her, lifting her slightly.

This time, even though she was far weaker than before, she worked to get to her feet. The room spun, and she thought she might simultaneously faint and vomit. But through sheer will, she managed to stay upright.

“Move,” Sabis commanded, pushing her shoulder.

Outside the ship’s hatch was a metal bridge that shook with their weight as they stepped on it.

She unsteadily followed the Xaal that held the power to torture her in his hand across the unsteady platform.

The wind was wild, whipping her hair out of her face and blowing it behind her.

But then she made the mistake of looking down.

Beneath her was a scene so full of impossibilities it took her breath away.

Ships of all shapes and sizes traversed noisily around an intricate layout of tall bronze spires.

Moving images played out from some unidentifiable place as if she were looking through a keyhole into a world within a world.

One showed someone with fleshy tube-like hair dancing, their hands traveling down their dark pink body seductively.