Despite my resolve to remain cool and collected, the alien’s unbreakable silence and bold staring had me unnerved. He hadn’t said a word since I’d walked in, and his eyes hadn’t left me for even a split second.

I’d had an idea of his appearance going into the meeting thanks to the abundance of news reports from around the world. The coverage from Hong Kong, Paris, Sydney, and many other major cities had shown the A’li-uud as tall, muscular humanoids with defined faces and blue skin. Seeing him in person, however, was a visceral demonstration of the differences in their race not unlike the differences between humans. In contrast to the skin tones of deep, rich indigo and bright sky blue that I’d seen on television, this alien was so pale that he resembled sea froth with the merest hints of azure in his flesh. His eyes were hardly eyes at all as his irises were nearly the same color as his sclera, which was practically identical to the sea froth hue I’d already identified. He bore finely-chiseled features: a smooth nose, high cheekbones, a defined chin, and a squared jaw of marble. As he was shirtless, I was able to see he was as muscular as his counterparts, but I was unable to gauge his height from his seated position.

In short, he was ethereal.

I wondered if I was staring at him as unapologetically as he was staring at me, and I quickly flicked my gaze over his shoulder to the expanse of the city behind him. What once would have been a vision of activity was now reminiscent of desolate dystopia. No taxis flooded the streets. No businessmen power walked past stores. No groups of tourists stopped to take pictures in front of great neon signs. Traffic lights blinked for no one, trash tumbled freely without obstruction of feet, and dark windows gaped like blank faces from every direction. New York City, once a major hub of the world, had become a ghost town.

“We wish to discuss a peace treaty, Mister…” I repeated, whipping my gaze back to him as I spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

For a moment, I was sure he was going to continue his tirade of silent ogling. Then, for the first time since I’d come into the room, his thin lips parted to reply.

“De’inde Et’Petrum Montem’tribus.”

It was my turn to gawk at him. I knew he’d spoken English because the native language of A’li-uud was reported to be some kind of clacking noise, but he may as well have said it in A’li-uud because it sounded like complete gibberish to me. “I don’t—”

“You may call me Dane,” he interrupted.

His voice was strange, rather unlike a voice and more like an instrument. It wasn’t musical in quality, but it had a reverberating bass tone to it that put me in mind of a somber symphonic piece. He had a curious way of talking, clipping his words at their ends, leaving the listener wondering if there was more to come.

“Very well, Mr. Dane—”

“No,” he said sharply, cutting me off once more. “Just Dane.”

I opened my mouth to apologize for the misunderstanding and to continue with my purpose, but I stopped short of uttering a single syllable as his phantom eyes pressed into me. His shoulders, straight and proud, inclined toward me slightly, and I distinctly heard the sound of a slow inhale.

“Are you smelling me?” I asked in disbelief. I didn’t intend to ask the question, but it spilled from my mouth before I could stop myself.

The corners of his lips flinched, and the way his eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly at the edges made me wonder if there was a smile beneath his defiant visage. “You smell of florals and sweetness. Your scent is quite strong.”

“I wear lavender-scented perfume. Does it bother you?”

“I am not talking about the perfume. I can smell that, chemical and harsh. It is your natural scent that is sweet, your very essence.” His eyes never left mine as he spoke, and he added unblinkingly, “It is quite nice.”

One of the curses of being fair-skinned was my tendency to blush, and this time was no exception. My cheeks flooded with scarlet heat, which I tried to hide by looking down at the table, but I was unable to break the connection he maintained with his gaze. To my surprise, another part of me warmed as well, and I crossed my legs against the unexpected bloom.

As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough, the alien tilted his head and commented lightly, “That is nice, too.”

I froze, horrified at the thought of him being able to smell the sudden desire that had awoken inside me. “What’s nice?” I croaked.

“The pink in your cheeks,” he said unabashedly. “A’li-uud do not do that.”

He was so different from human men that my only response was to goggle at him, even as relief flooded through me with the reassurance that my secret was safe. When men paid me a compliment, they were either self-conscious and concerned about the response they’d get or cocky and over-confident. Dane was neither. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t care how I reacted because it would remain true either way, and it was as humbling as it was thrilling.

“Thank you,” I murmured shyly. A comfortable silence fell between us, and then I remembered the reason for the meeting in the first place. I tapped the folder in front of me with my index finger and said, “Now, Dane, about the peace treaty—”

“There is no peace treaty,” Dane interjected. His face had become steely instantly, his jaw rigid and his eyes sharp. At that moment, I saw first-hand why people found the A’li-uud so fearsome.

“No, not yet, but we’re here to discuss—”

“I am here because I am forced to be.” He still hadn’t looked away from me, but the atmosphere had changed considerably. What had been strangely warm and electric was now frigid and unyielding. “We have nothing to discuss.”

“Actually, you were brought here because we need to discuss—”

“You do not understand me,” he said severely. “There will be no treaty between A’li-uud and humans, peace or otherwise.”

As hard as I was trying to remain professional, I was quickly becoming irritated by his constant interruptions. Furthermore, his obstinacy toward just having a conversation about ending this war was infuriating, and his intimidating appearance was rapidly losing its ability to keep me in check. I took in a calming breath, closed my eyes, and thought about my response before saying it.

“I’m afraid you’re right. I don’t understand you,” I said carefully. “You want to continue this war?”

“This war has only one end, and it is the decimation of your species.”

Again, he was speaking matter-of-factly, which was a disconcerting contradiction to his chilling words. I opened my eyes again to see him looking at me thoughtfully rather than aggressively, as I’d expected. Nothing about this man—this alien—made sense to me.

“You are frustrated,” he said.

I eyed him warily. “What makes you think that?”

He didn’t answer, but his expression spoke of the confidence he felt in his assertion. I sat back in my chair, the folder on the table still lying unopened, and sighed.

“Listen, Dane, I’m trying to work with you here. I would like to reach an agreement we can both be satisfied with, but I’m going to need you to meet me halfway,” I patiently explained.

His defined pectorals flexed beneath the glare of the standard office fluorescent lights overhead, and, for the first time, I realized just how cut his abdomen was. I could see each muscle as clearly as I could see his arms or his head. Deep ridges were cut between each, shadows cast within them, giving a whole new meaning to “six-pack.” It was practically enough to make me salivate, but I dragged my gaze back up to his face and blinked a few times to clear my vision of the godlike physique before me.

“There is no such thing as peace with humans,” he was saying. He spoke firmly, decisively, with little room to convince him otherwise. “A piece of paper stating you will not harm us guarantees me nothing. Humans attack without reason when it suits them with little regard for anything or anyone else.”

“That’s interesting because I’m pretty sure you were the ones to attack us without reason, and murdering any man, woman, or child in your path isn’t exactly a demonstration of regard for others,” I retorted.

“We had reason,” he said firmly.

I quirked a brow. “Oh? I was under the impression you bombed our fleet, took the survivors hostage, and only allowed them to return to Earth when another ship showed up prepared to fight. Where is the reason in that?”

Once more, the corners of his lips twitched and the edges of his eyes creased. I realized I desperately wanted that smile to break through his stony exterior, to see the Gentle behind the Giant, but neither he nor I was willing to make that happen. His chains clanked against the chair he sat in as he shifted, and he rolled his neck to loosen his knots. He had no intent of answering me, but I wasn’t giving up this time.

“Well?” I demanded hotly, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes slithered down to where my limbs covered my bosom before darting upward again, and I felt rosiness blossoming unbidden across my cheeks. “Call it offensive defense,” he said with a hint of snarky arrogance in his voice.

I pursed my lips. It was clear he was as unmovable as a boulder right now, and I had my orders. “Break him,” they’d told me. “We need him to talk. We need this war to end.” Foolishly, I’d expected to be met with just a few minutes of hostility before getting into peace talks, and now I was across from an alien leader who had made it clear that the only thing he was interested in talking about was ending humanity.

When he wasn’t talking about what he liked about me, that is.

I got to my feet, all business. “We’re obviously not going to get anywhere today, Dane,” I told him, tilting my chin upwards rather haughtily. I’d been told to break him, and that was exactly what I was going to do. “I’ll let you think about it for a few days, and maybe we’ll reopen the discussion then.”