Chapter Seven

Zoe

I admit, I spent a couple of hours curled in a corner crying and poor-pitiful-me-ing after I got into my room that night. I had really thought I was making headway with Sarden—I thought he actually liked me. Hell, for a minute there when we were saying good night, I thought he did more than like me. I could still feel the heat of his big body radiating against mine, could still trace the line of warmth his hand had left on my cheek…

But it all meant nothing. He was determined to trade me no matter what and I was never going to get back home again. I was never going to have a cheeseburger that didn’t taste like chocolate éclair or a steak that didn’t taste like strawberry shortcake. There would be no more girl days with Charlotte and Leah, no more three-way bitch sessions on the phone, no more late night movie marathons. No more of a hundred thousand little things that had made up my life on Earth.

No more.

But a person can only cry so much. After a couple of hours when my eyes were all red and weepy and swollen, I finally took a deep breath and got hold of myself.

Back home, when I was miserable, I always took a hot shower and felt better afterwards. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option here. It was either get in the tank of purple liquid (no, no, and Hell no) or take a shower in the mister.

I chose the mister. After shedding the black temp-shirt, I turned the alien shower on and stepped into a cloud of cool mist which collected in chilly droplets that ran down over my bare skin.

Honestly, it wasn’t very good as showers go. I mean, I was able to get my body clean but I knew right away I wouldn’t be able to wash my hair in there. My curly mop is too dense to wash under anything but excellent water pressure which was pretty much the exact opposite of the mister.

But since I didn’t have any shampoo anyway, I decided not to bother. I twisted my hair into a thick knot at the nape of my neck and just concentrated on getting my skin clean.

After turning off the mister, I looked for something to dry off with. There were no towels that I could see but suddenly a blast of hot air surrounded me, coming from the same fine jets which had previously sprayed the water. It nearly knocked me off my feet but I put out my hands to brace against the wall and managed to stay upright. When the hot air finally subsided, I was dry.

“Whew,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out. “What is it with these people and the hot air on your sensitive areas?”

There was no answer forthcoming but I didn’t expect one. It was just another aspect of alien life I would have to get used to unless I could get back home. All right, so let’s think about that, I told myself. How can I get home?

I pulled Sarden’s t-shirt back on, since I had nothing else to wear, and settled gingerly into the floating silver bed. It dipped and swayed dangerously as I scrambled in but once I was in place, it supported me beautifully. I thought it would probably be like sleeping on a cloud—only I had no intention of sleeping. Not tonight.

It was time to get serious.

Fact 1—I was on a spaceship headed away from Earth and I was getting farther away all the time.

Fact 2—Plan A had failed spectacularly.

Fact 3—I had only one option left, that I could see.

It was time for Plan B.

Reaching into the folds of the silver, floating beanbag bed, I withdrew the heavy length of pipe and the thick manacles. The manacles glowed a soft blue, the light in the center of the chain connecting them winking like a star.

I finally dared to touch it and when I did, the light changed from blue to green and both of the thick cuffs popped open with a soft chime. Hmm… I touched the light again—which was cool but buzzed and vibrated under my fingertip—and they snapped closed and the light turned blue. So that was how they worked. Good thing because I didn’t see any key to go with them.

I hefted the pipe in my hand and stared at it. Could I really go through with this? I’ve never been a violent person. I mean, I have a temper on me and I got in a pretty good fight once in fifth grade when Grace McLaughlin stole the charm bracelet my Granny had given me for my birthday and started telling everyone it was hers. But other than that, I’ve never been much of a fighter.

Well, it was time to change all that. The longer I waited, the further I got from Earth. It was time to turn this ship around and if Sarden wouldn’t do it, I would find a way myself.

Tucking the heavy, cold manacles under my shirt-dress to mask their glow, I held the pipe by my side and slipped out into the hall.

I had half expected to see Al somewhere watching me, but the artificial life form’s round lantern-eye was nowhere to be seen. The lights aboard the ship had been dimmed and the long metal corridor was filled with black shadows.

It was seriously creepy. My mind kept wanting to show me images and scenes from that Event Horizon movie my ex had made me watch—the horror scifi one where the people’s eyeballs explode. I really should have insisted on watching something else that night. You can bet I wouldn’t be having frightening flashbacks of Richard Gere and Julia Roberts having sex on the piano if I’d gotten my way and we had watched Pretty Woman instead.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the scary images aside and slipped down the hall to stand in front of Sarden’s door.

Some time ago I had heard his door whoosh open and closed, so I knew he was in there. The question was—was he asleep? And was he deeply enough asleep for me to carry out my plan?

Well, only one way to find out.

Leaning forward, I broke the invisible beam and the door opened with a soft, almost silent swish. Inside it was very dark except for a tiny bit of light coming from the bathroom. As my eyes adjusted, I realized it was the purple liquid in the awful personal cleansing tank—it was glowing ever so faintly like a vast aquarium nightlight thing.

The light wasn’t much but it was enough for me to see Sarden’s large form sprawled across a vast silver beanbag bed. Like the one in my room, the bed was floating about three feet above the floor. Just the right height. I gripped the pipe tighter and stepped forward.

Sarden didn’t stir. He was lying on his back with his head turned to one side which was good. I had read in a self-defense book once that the best way to knock out your attacker with one blow was with a single hit to the temple. I planned to avoid his horns though—I wasn’t sure what hitting one of them might do to him and I wanted to knock him out, not kill him.

Sliding closer, I kept my left hand pressed to my belly to keep the manacles from clinking and raised the pipe in my right.

Then I hesitated.

It was really hard to do this—much harder than I’d expected. You spend your whole life from preschool up being told “don’t hit, don’t kick, don’t punch…be careful, don’t hurt anyone and if you do hurt someone, say you’re sorry!”

Well, I could say sorry later, after I had him cuffed and under my control, I decided. Right now, this was my only option.

Taking a deep breath, I swung down, landing the pipe as hard as I could.

Only it landed on the soft, billowy fold of the silver beanbag bed. Because at the last moment, Sarden rolled to one side and popped up on his feet.

I knew I was in trouble from the way his golden eyes glowed in the dark. He looked huge in the dim purple light—a mountain of muscles and it suddenly occurred to me what an extremely stupid idea Plan B was. Here I was, in the dark with a massive, seven foot tall, extremely muscular alien who bore more than a passing resemblance to the Devil and I had just tried to brain him with a metal pipe.

I was so, so screwed.

“What in the Frozen Hells of Anor do you think you’re doing?” he demanded in a low, angry growl. “And what do you have in your hand?”

“I…um…” Like a scared little girl, I tried to hide the pipe behind my back because I tend to get stupid when I’m terrified.

“Give me that.” With one stride he was around the bed and grabbing my wrist. His long fingers squeezed tight and my hand went numb at once.

“Ow!” I cried and dropped the pipe which landed on the floor with a metallic clatter.

“I see,” Sarden said grimly. Still holding my arm, he scooped up the pipe. “So you were planning to kill me in my sleep—is that it?”

“No, honestly,” I gasped. “I wasn’t going to kill you—just knock you unconscious and chain you up.”

“A likely story,” he snarled, shaking me. The sudden motion dislodged the manacles from under my shirt and they landed on my bare foot.

“Ouch!” I yelped in sudden agony. “Son of a bitch that hurts!”

“Force Locks?” Sarden dropped the pipe and kicked it under the bed, then bent to scoop up the manacles instead. He looked at their glowing blue light and then at me. “Where did you get these?”

“I…I found them,” I gasped.

“No doubt when you were snooping around the ship earlier. I knew I was being too soft on you. I should have locked you in your room—that might have kept you from sneaking around in the middle of the night trying to kill me.”

“Well, what did you expect me to do, you big red bastard?” I flared at him. “Just wait like a good little prisoner to be sold or traded? Get it through your head—you do not own me!”

“No, you get it through your head, Zoe…” He leaned down until we were eye-to-eye, his golden, glowing eyes burning into my own. “I do own you and I’ll do whatever I damn well please with you.”

Scooping me up with one arm, he lifted me and threw me on my back in the middle of the silver beanbag bed.

Then he climbed in beside me.