Chapter One
Spero MP13 USIF exploration planet, six weeks earlier…
With every muscle in her body crying out in agony and her chest heaving with a burning ache, Lana staggered to a stop, unable to take another step as her knees buckled. She grasped at anything to keep from falling to the wet forest floor. Her fingers raked over the rough bark of a tree, and as she clung to it, digging in with her nails, several tore free. The biting pain was better than an encounter with the squishy, slimy, sucking substances she’d stepped in repeatedly over the past hour or so. What it was didn’t bear thinking. If she let herself succumb to fear of whatever was out there in this alien world, her panic would become overwhelming.
No, she had to be strong and keep going. Her life depended on it.
She tried to slow her breathing, gulping large mouthfuls of air in the hope some small amount of oxygen would somehow penetrate her constricted lungs. But breathing in the heat of this godforsaken planet was a considerable feat when she hadn’t been running for miles.
Reaching up, she raked the hair back from her face. She also yanked down the zipper of her flight suit a few more inches and peeled the material away from her skin. Both were soaked, not only with the sweat of her exertions. but from the near 100 percent humidity in the air. Why it wasn’t raining, she didn’t know. And while the twin suns had already set, the sweltering temperature hadn’t dropped a degree as far as Lana could tell.
“Leave it to us to set down in the middle of a freaking rainforest.”
As soon as she grumbled her complaint, she regretted her words. Her pursuer could be within hearing distance. Closing her eyes, she focused on quieting her breathing while she listened.
There was squawking and buzzing in every direction, but no shouts, no twigs snapping, and, thankfully, no thudding footsteps indicating pursuit.
Maybe she had eluded them. Or perhaps they’d given up.
She could only pray it was one of the two because she needed to rest, if only for a few moments. Lana laid her head back against the tree, the bark snagging at her long hair. It also dug into her back, but she didn’t have the energy to move.
Never so miserable in her life, aside from being sticky and hot, with tight, cramping muscles, her skin was on fire, the stinging and burning worst on her face and arms. The source, most likely cuts and scratches from fighting her way through the thick undergrowth and low-lying branches. A machete would have been useful. Instead, with the salt of sweat stinging her eyes she’d run half-blind, using her body, and, evidently her face, to clear her path.
The worst pain was in her right thigh which throbbed in rhythm with her pounding heart. She brushed her fingers over it, hissing at even the lightest of touches on the open wound exposed by the rip in her flight suit. There didn’t seem to be anything protruding from it, but she could feel the tear in the fabric, and a tickling sensation down her leg, likely from oozing blood.
Gruff incomprehensible voices sounded nearby.
A whimper of fear escaped Lana’s throat, and she exerted great restraint to contain the screams threatening to burst free. She forced herself to stand, preparing to run, but pain shot down her injured leg when she put weight on it. Despite her misery, she had to push forward, unable to contemplate what horrors awaited her if she was caught.
Where was the surge of energy, increased strength and exceptional speed of the fight-or-flight response? She got the elevated heart rate, tense muscles, and perhaps, the anesthesia effect of the endorphins because she hadn’t felt the pain of her injury quite so acutely until now. But that’s all. Rather than the superhuman adrenaline-spurred abilities she needed, she was short of breath, fatigued from the tips of her toes to the ends of her drenched hair, and trembling from being scared spitless.
Closing her eyes briefly, she sent up an awkward plea to heaven for the strength to make it back to the shuttle, at the same time regretting she hadn’t been more diligent with her prayers in the past. Gritting her teeth, Lana pushed off from the tree and limped forward, but in the dim light, must have turned the wrong way because she immediately slammed into a hard, unyielding object.
Her hands came up to steady herself, but instead of the bark of the tree trunk she expected, they met warm, smooth flesh. Terror washed over her, and she opened her mouth to scream, except with panic welling in her throat, nothing came out. She pushed away, stumbling backward, her mind shouting at her to run, but her body failed her, sluggish in its response.
The being she plowed into had no such problem. A band of steel encircled her waist, and she was pulled tight against a solid, inflexible frame. Making matters worse, the deep voice rumbling over her head, speaking in a strange tongue was definitely male.
Petrified, Lana willed herself to move, to struggle, to use her good leg to kick him where it would do damage, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, even her lungs seemed to have lost their ability to function. She wheezed, trying to drag air into her chest, but all she could do was stare, unblinking at the naked male chest inches away from her face.
He spoke more incomprehensible words. When she didn’t respond, he curved his hand around her jaw—thank God, it was a hand and not a claw or slimy tentacle—and tipped her face up, way up, since he eclipsed her five-foot-eight-inch frame by nearly two feet.
When their eyes met, despite the rapidly increasing darkness, she noticed his were an unusual bluish green, otherworldly but stunning all the same. They reminded her of aquamarines, not the typical light blue popular for gemstones, but the darker hue of the raw mineral stores she’d seen during a field expedition back in college. Never had she seen the color replicated, until now.
As she stared up at him, transfixed, his thumb moved, gliding over her cheek and along her lower lip. His touch sent a jolt of electricity arcing between them. Like a magnetic charge, it drew her to him, the intensity both startling and confusing at the same time.
His features were unexpectedly human. With his dark brows arched, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she recognized surprise in his expression. Was he as shocked as she was to find a creature so like himself? Or, had he felt the current passing between them?
He blinked, which drew her attention to his incredibly thick lashes. Then, as if that small movement brought him back from wherever his stunned brain had traveled, his astonishment changed to something else. Judging by the tilt of his head and the single quirked brow, she’d call it curiosity. He took a step back, the distance his long arms would allow without releasing her, and his gaze slid down her body. Slowly, he surveyed every inch, before his eyes skimmed back up to meet hers again.
His expression changed once more, an air of what she could only describe as joy encompassing his gorgeous features, and he smiled, not lewd or leering, but jubilant. He said something else, the low sound strangely melodic.
Lana stared, helplessly mute, not that it mattered. She assumed since she couldn’t understand him, he had the same problem.
When she didn’t respond, his dark brows furrowed. He shook his head, and the next thing she knew, he lifted her high in the air. When she came down, she lay draped over his shoulder.
Holy crap! He intended to carry her off to God knows where to do God knows what. The awful realization broke the immobilizing spell restraining her. She twisted and squirmed atop his tall frame, heedless of the distance she’d drop to the ground should she get free. Not to mention possibly ticking off the gorgeous, yet scary alien with her resistance.
Other than clamping his massive arm around her legs to contain her, he ignored her struggles as he started through the jungle, each long stride covering a lot of ground.
“Let me go!” she shrieked, pounding her fists against his back, but this elicited not so much as a flinch, and his steps didn’t slow.
When she raked her nails across his skin, it was a different story. His broad hand came down with a lusty smack on her skyward-pointed backside.
Lana jerked, not so much from pain, but from outrage. As a result, her wound slammed up against hard, unforgiving muscle. She cried out as waves of agony shot up to her hip and down toward her toes.
When they began to subside, settling into a dull, throbbing ache, she realized he’d shifted her off his shoulder and now held her cradled her in his arms. Through a haze of pain and tears, she saw his face hovering above her own, now tight with what she read as concern. His big hand stroked in a soft caress over her bottom and it dawned on her what he thought.
“It’s not my butt, you brute. Although, I should let you think it is,” she muttered, as she clamped her hand protectively over her wound. “It’s my leg, and it’s killing me, no thanks to your rough treatment.”
His head angled down, and his gaze homed in on her upper thigh. The next instant, he bent to set her on her back on the ground.
“Don’t,” she cried, though she knew she had zero chance of stopping him. She squinched her eyes shut, braced to withstand whatever disgusting slop he placed her in. When she felt nothing seeping through her clothes, she opened them again, and was shocked to see the moonlit sky overhead where before there had been only a dense canopy of trees. She glanced to the side. They were in a small clearing, not swampy at all, but with sparser trees and tall grass. How had she run for what seemed like miles and not found this?
At a tug on her leg and a loud rip, her head snapped around. He was tearing her flight suit away from her wound.
Lana sat up. “Stop it! I have nothing else to wear.”
He shot her a stern look and shook his head once. In that brief glance, she noticed his unusual eyes had changed, now more green than blue, and much darker. Still beautiful and mesmerizing, but also frightening because they drove home the fact that while he looked the part, he wasn’t human. She clamped her mouth shut; getting snippy with an unknown entity probably wasn’t the wisest or safest approach.
With her silence restored, he went back to work, ripping the entire right leg of her uniform free. He didn’t toss it aside as she expected but reversed it inside out and wrapped the clean side around her thigh for a bandage.
He nodded, as though satisfied with his makeshift first aid, before turning back to her. Once again, he caught her chin in his hand then he raised the other, forefinger extended and wagged it as he spoke. She frowned, having no idea what he meant by his gesture other than, no.
Making his hand into a claw, he pantomimed raking his nails across his chest. The wagging finger repeated, his meaning now clear—no scratching.
Raising her chin higher, he gazed steadily into her eyes, until she released her lip and nodded.
Seeming satisfied, he lifted her in his arms again, but instead of going over his shoulder in an ignominious captive position—although that’s what she was—he cradled her once more, as though she were a pampered child. And he was careful to put her injured thigh outward where it wouldn’t get bumped again.
Effortlessly, as though her one hundred forty pounds was nothing, he moved forward, dodging low limbs and downed trees. It had grown darker. Lana had to wonder how he could navigate around the many barriers in their path when she could barely see a hand in front of her face.
Minutes passed, she had no idea how many, far too frightened to think straight or mark the time.
She stiffened when she heard the hum of other male voices growing louder with every step her captor took. He murmured something in a low tone, as though to reassure her, and his arms tightened. The one beneath her thighs shifted higher, and his hand slid over her bottom and curled around her hip. He patted her there. The effect anything but comforting, although he likely intended for it to be.
His familiarity with her person, his size and strength, and not least of all the way his eyes had scanned down her body and the smile that broke over his face at what he saw, gave Lana a distinct picture of what lay ahead for her.
They entered a clearing, and she found herself surrounded by more huge, towering men, all talking excitedly and clamoring for a glimpse of her, moving closer—too close. One reached out to touch her hair, hanging long and messy all around her. She recoiled, clinging to the only thing she could—her captor.
He reacted immediately, tightening his arms around her and he barked something at the men. Despite the language barrier, she could tell it was a harsh reprimand. They quickly backed away.
He released her legs and let her slide down his front, her softness encountering every hard plane and contour of his body as he lowered her to the ground. When her feet touched down, he kept her close, so her breasts pressed flat against his chest. She fought to put space between them but didn’t make any headway against his superior strength.
Her head fell back, and she glared up at him, as frightened as she was desperate to get away. “Let me go! You don’t have the right to just take me.”
But he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, his eyes were aimed over her head, focused on something behind her and he was frowning, fiercely. He said something sharply, to which someone behind her replied.
Feeling the mounting tension like electricity snapping in the air, she tried to turn and see this new threat, but his arms didn’t give at all. She caught only a glimpse of white-hair and a long white robe. Whatever was being discussed enraged her captor and with a frightening growl he answered back. Several minutes of arguing ensued before he let out a shout this side of a roar.
His gaze came back to her and she didn’t like what she saw—anger, frustration, and something she didn’t think boded well for her, resignation.
Terrified, she shook her head, a wave of dread coursing through her. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, or what you want.”
His hands slid to her shoulders and he turned her around. With an arm encircling her waist and the length of his tall frame supporting her injured side, he moved them forward. She glanced up and saw their destination—a freestanding cell with metal bars. No wider than it was tall, the door folded back on its hinges as it awaited its first captive.
“Dear God, no!” She spun out of his arms and sprinted back the way they had come. She’d taken three maybe four steps before he caught her and pinned her against his hip, her feet a foot above the ground. Twisting and wriggling in his arms, she begged helplessly, “Please, don’t put me in that cage.”
He spoke to her again, the tone more guttural, with a sense of urgency and apparent frustration. She didn’t understand and had the nagging suspicion her fate had already been decided, but she had to try.
Lana shook her head vehemently, her nails digging into his arms, trying to make him understand, as she felt the hot glide of tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m not an animal, or a felon to be locked up. You must let me go before my people leave without me.”
He stared down at her, with what might have been regret shining in his beautiful eyes. It definitely wasn’t the joy from before, which gave her a glimmer of hope she’d gotten through. His head twisted, and he snapped angrily at someone again, but he didn’t veer from his goal and her hope evaporated.
Within a few strides he reached the cage. He had to duck to enter, bringing her—clawing, kicking, and screaming with every ounce of her strength—along with him.
Once inside, when he released her, his hands rose to her face, and his thumbs swept her wet cheeks.
“Please, I don’t want to be locked in here,” she pleaded tearfully. “Why can’t you let me go?”
He didn’t say anything else—what was the point?—but his features softened. Taking it for compassion, she dug her fingers into his massive forearms and tried once more, repeating with a sob, “Please! Don’t do this.”
He shot a terrifying scowl over her shoulder and snarled words which sounded enraged. With one last glance at her, a muscle jumping in his tightly clenched jaw, he dropped his hands and walked away. The door clanged loudly behind him, as he left her there—afraid, and utterly hopeless.
***
Standing in a shadowy corner of her prison, Lana tried to mark the passage of time. Darkness had fallen, and the planet’s twin moons had risen, but they took different paths across the alien sky which meant nothing to her. She gripped the bars of her cell tightly, trying to still her trembling hands while she watched the men move around the camp, starting cook fires, and preparing food.
While she observed the busy hive of activity, she found herself searching for a glimpse of her captor. Not once did she see him, even as one by one, the barbarians carried six of her crew into camp. Like her, they arrived in the arms of a half-naked male, most ass up and over a broad shoulder, and were brought directly to the cage and locked in.
Her cellmates were in various states of emotional distress, some sobbing uncontrollably, a few shaking and mute with fear. Not surprisingly, their security chief fought tooth and nail when hauled bodily into the cell. She’d also cursed a blue streak and leveled several creative threats at certain parts of her captor’s anatomy. As far as Lana could tell, she was the only one who hadn’t shed a tear. They all had something in common, however, each woman turned and looked in horror as the door slammed shut, ringing loudly in the heavy night air with an ominous sound of finality.
Having had time to absorb her surroundings, Lana attempted to comfort those she could. At the same time, she tried to tamp down the indignity of being caught first, and rather easily, considering the length of time which passed before Thora was brought in second, was humiliating.
Although shaken, drained from the heat, and exhausted after being hunted like prey, the others soon settled, huddling together at the back of the cage. Like Lana, a few couldn’t sit still, and joined her at the bars, watching and waiting for what would happen next.
“Do you think they plan to eat us?” This question was posed by Brenna, who was curled up in a ball on the dirt floor. Lana noticed she was rubbing her swollen ankle which had already turned purple.
“Are you sure nothing is broken?”
She glanced up, tears in her blue eyes. “What does it matter if we’re going to be dinner?”
A grunt of impatience came from Eryn who stood next to Lana. “I checked it out. A bad sprain is my guess.” The tall, redhead's gaze didn't stray from the aliens across the clearing. “And I don’t think we’re on the menu. From the leers our barbarian hosts keep sending our way, and considering the bulges tenting their loin cloths, I’d say we’re dessert.”
“Oh my God!” Brenna whispered.
“Stop scaring everyone with your rape and mayhem prophesies,” Lana hissed.
Vivid green eyes cut to her. “Should I blow smoke up their asses and tell them their invitations to tea are forthcoming? We’re all screwed—literally. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Look!” Thora called out suddenly, making them all jump. “They’ve caught the lieutenant.”
Every eye in the cage turned to watch as one of the big brutes carried their shipmate, a scientist like most of them, but also an officer, into camp the same way they’d all arrived, ass up over his shoulder.
“Oh, Eva,” Lana whispered. “I so hoped you’d gotten away.”
The fragile thread of optimism she’d clung to so desperately, that one of them had made it to the shuttle and escaped, frayed further.
“Only four remain,” Eryn murmured, her tone flat, as if unaffected by the events unfolding around her. Lana knew better. The security chief was a soldier first, a woman second. She wouldn’t let her tough exterior crack, not when she had a job to do—protect her crew and find a way to escape. “It’s dark. They’re either out there running scared, or safe on board the Odyssey, which means halfway to the next sector and away from this alien threat.”
“You think the captain left us here?” Brenna gasped.
“One, no matter who, ever outweighs the good of the many.” Eryn quietly quoted their leader’s motto. They'd all heard it often enough. They also knew it was an old movie quote, except their captain. When it was repeated now, no one spoke. Each of them had agreed upon signing onto the mission that success was imperative. If necessary, stragglers would be left behind. If she were in their place—captured, scared out of her mind, and caged by barbarians—Maggie Vohlmer, their captain, would expect her crew to follow the same directive.
No matter who...
“The Odyssey is gone.” Thora's prediction when it came sounded flat and undoubtedly echoed what they all were thinking.
“Long gone,” one of the others agreed.
On a broken sob, Brenna whispered, “If it means being killed quickly, I think I’d rather be eaten than raped by one of them. Have you seen the one with the braid?” she asked between panting breaths. “He’s two feet taller than I am, and at least two hundred pounds heavier. They’re all huge, any of them will rip me apart.”
“I think you’re safe from the really big one,” Thora commented quietly. “He brought Eryn in, and has been eying her ever since.”
“Shit.” This emphatically uttered response came from said barbarian’s unfortunate target.
They lapsed into silence again watching as several men moved to greet the newcomers. Talking in their guttural, weirdly melodic language, the black-haired giant slid Eva off his shoulder. Once on her feet, she whipped her tousled hair from her face and glanced around, in seconds spying the cage where they were held. Lana knew her friend well. They’d been close long before the mission began. Though Eva appeared calm outwardly, she was horrified, and like the rest of them beyond frightened.
Abruptly, one of the aliens broke away from the group, striding quickly in their direction.
“Oh my God! One is coming this way.”
Brenna’s panicked exclamation was unnecessary because every eye in the despised cage fixated on his approach. It was impossible not to. Because, while terrifying in sheer size and intimidating in bearing, he was also utterly gorgeous.
During their three-year exploration into deep space, Lana had seen remarkable things, and some pretty strange aliens, but she’d never seen such men as their captors before. Not creatures, beings, or entities, she referred to them as men because they bore such an uncanny resemblance to earth men. If she wandered into an International Basketball Association locker room, that is. Every one of them stood at least seven feet and sported six-packs, bulging biceps, and quads, a fact she didn’t have to strain to see thanks to the skimpy loincloths they wore. And they all had long dark hair. Some wore it braided, others had it tied with a band at the back of their neck, most wearing it loose, but no matter the style, it didn’t detract from how sleek it was, especially when unbound. Then it fell like a shiny curtain down their backs. Any other time, and place, she’d have been wet and panting—the long dry spell on board an all-female mission, partially to blame—but also because they were perfect male specimens.
No one had mentioned it aloud, but Lana would call them out as liars if they tried to deny the fact. She couldn’t, that’s for sure, especially when the one coming toward them was the same male who had captured her so readily, handled her struggling body without breaking a sweat, and smacked her butt as though it was routine, without batting one of his long silky black lashes.
Unable to stop staring, or so much as blink, she watched as he tossed his thick black mane over his shoulder, and laughed, his white teeth flashing in his darkly bearded face when Eva’s captor called out to him.
“Damn,” someone whispered softly.
“Yeah,” she replied under her breath. On a hotness scale of one to ten, he scored ninety-five, at least.
Despite the oppressive jungle heat, a chill ran down Lana’s spine. Not one for premonitions, this was one time she felt the portent of her future, especially when his eyes locked on her. Lana took a step back, reading his intent. But there was no escape, not with bars containing her on all sides, keeping her where he had put her hours earlier.
Gasps and cries of alarm rose around her when he released the locking mechanism on the cell door and threw it wide. The others shrank back, except Eryn, who—unbelievably brave or crazy, she couldn’t be sure which—moved in front of her in a protective stance. She didn’t flinch when he ducked his head and stepped inside.
Although roomy enough to hold four times their number, when he entered the air seemed to evaporate, his shoulders taking up every scintilla of space. Lana backed up further with Eryn keeping pace until she came up against the rear wall.
What happened next seemed to drag by as if time was at half speed. He lifted her six-foot-tall guardian by the waist as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow and set her down out of the way. Next, he extended his arm and encircled her wrist with long steely fingers. As he hauled her to him, his jaw tipped down, and his extraordinary eyes fixed on her as though they could penetrate her thoughts, her very soul.
“Let her go!” Brenna cried.
“You can’t take her, you monster,” exclaimed one of the others.
To Lana, who stood frozen staring up at this frightening yet gorgeous man, their protests muted, and they seemed to bounce off him without effect. Like her, he didn’t move, gazing back at her without blinking. After a moment, his lips tipped up on the ends, his grin becoming hungry. He turned and strode to the cell door with her in tow, stopping only to shift Eryn out of the way again when she blocked his path.
The door clanging shut behind them released Lana from her trance-like state. What was wrong with her to be taken in by a handsome face and some awesome muscles? No, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—so easily submit.
“No!” she repeated, this time aloud, and twisted her arm, trying to break the hold of his fingers on her wrist. When it didn’t work, she attempted prying them off with her fingers. This also had no effect, neither did smacking his arm.
Abruptly, her world tilted on end, as her feet left the ground. And, as had happened hours earlier, her breath left her lungs in a whoosh as he tossed her over his shoulder. Unlike in the forest, when she fought him, her injured thigh never took the brunt of his hard body.
When she pushed off his back, bucking and tossing her head, a part of her, spurred by her undersexed libido too long in hibernation, noticed the smoothness of his skin over hard muscle. It felt like satin encased steel beneath her hands, and she didn't miss how his loincloth, much skimpier in back, covered a firm, nicely curved ass. Her eyes flared at the tattoo curling around his right hip, half his taut butt cheek, and down the outer aspect of his thigh. The swirls and lines of black, red, and gold were of an abstract tribal design, and were a striking contrast to his tanned skin. Back home she’d be drooling over this man, but here in this alien world, she wanted no part of him—at least that’s what her brain insisted. Her body had other ideas.
The ridiculousness of her lust at such a time made her reaction worse. She kicked, screamed, and punched, until his hand clamped onto her upraised ass, and squeezed.
Her cries of outrage turned into an alarmed squeak.
He said something, whether to her or his brethren who stood by watching, she wasn’t sure until their chuckles followed in them as he crossed the camp. This really pissed her off.
“Put me down, you beast.”
She tried kicking again, but he had a heavy arm hooked around her thighs. When she used her fists, he hitched his step and sent her up in the air. Her belly leaving his shoulder seven-plus feet in the air provoked her fear of heights, not to mention falling and breaking her neck. Once she landed with an oomph, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on.
Low, husky laughter from the onlookers filled her ears, which she ignored, as did he because he kept right on walking. When his step hitched again, she didn’t go airborne but began sliding feet first. Her legs slipped down his chest then his belly, which put her breasts level with his face. Several inches more and she found herself nose to nose with the beautiful barbarian, staring into incredible aquamarine eyes which no human possessed.
A flash of white drew her gaze to his mouth and his gleaming, perfectly straight teeth. She didn’t have such alignment after years in braces as a kid. How did an uncivilized alien, on an undeveloped jungle planet get perfect teeth?
She forgot her insane meanderings because she was sliding again, and a massive, smooth-skinned chest filled her entire field of vision as her feet hit the floor.
He said something, and she peeked up to see him staring down expectantly.
She shook her head. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t speak alien.” It was a nonsensical thing to say since he didn’t speak English either.
As she stared at him, she watched his eyes roam her face, taking in every detail, as though fascinated by her features. Let him, she decided. After all day in this heat, she was sweaty, and her hair which frizzed with the least humidity must be a sight. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and she probably stunk. No way could he find her attractive.
She returned his perusal, taking inventory of his human-like features, two eyes, and two ears, at least what she could see. He had lobes, but the rest was hidden by all his glorious hair—smooth, glossy, and impervious to hot and steamy conditions, evidently. One straight nose, a single mouth with full, soft-looking lips, and great teeth, but she’d already waxed poetic on those.
She continued her scrutiny, counting one chin, a beard nicely trimmed, with a strong jaw beneath it. Golden-brown skin covered broad shoulders like the rest of him. He had two flat nipples, same as most guys. His were a shade darker, so they stood out on his chest, and what a magnificent chest it was.
He cleared his throat.
Realizing she’d been caught gawking, she closed her eyes. Maybe she was dreaming—or worse, in the midst of a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. She pinched herself. It hurt, which meant this was all very real, dammit!
Her alien didn’t seem to approve of her reality check technique because he made a tsking noise, brushed her hand aside, and gently stroked the sting away. His touch was as startling as it was soothing. As was the little tingle she felt where she shouldn’t. He was her captor, after all, and an extraterrestrial. When something tickled her cheek, her eyes popped open.
He had his head bent, concentrating on what he was doing. A thick shank of silky dark hair had fallen forward. As if sensing her stare, he angled his head, met her wide-eyed gaze, and winked.
She stiffened and jerked her arm away.
Freaked out by the familiar gesture, which fit right in on Main Street, USA, not a jungle planet in Spero System 13, she took a step back, and another. She continued to backpedal until she came up against the wall of the tent. Her eyes darted toward the door. Did she dare?
He easily read her movements, and as he’d done before, warned her not to try with the slow wag of his finger. She swore she heard, “uh, uh, uh.”
“What do you want from us? From me? You can’t go around taking women prisoners as you please and carry them off like you’re a cross between Tarzan and freaking ET!”
“Shh…”
She knew that sound, too.
“No, I won’t shush. Let us go, now!”
He advanced.
“Please…”
In front of her quickly, thanks to his long-legged strides, he took her hands in his, rubbing the backs of both with his thumbs, gently stroking, like before. He started moving backward, taking her along with him, not stopping until he came to a screen. He pulled her behind it where there was a table with a pitcher and a shallow basin. Releasing one hand, he filled the bowl halfway with water. From a shelf below, he took a washcloth and towel and handed both to her.
He said something she didn’t understand.
“I take it you want me to bathe. Sounds lovely, but no way are these clothes coming off, big guy.”
He gestured to the basin then waved a hand up and down her, hovering a moment over her injured leg. Next, he laid a hand on his chest, made a motion like he was eating, and pointed beyond the screen.
“You want me to wash while you go get food?”
He frowned. To show she understood, she dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it to her hot, sticky face. The tepid water cooled her skin and felt so good, she closed her eyes and sighed.
A noise—half growl, half groan—had her lids flying open again.
Still a few feet away, he had morphed into the scary creature she’d first met in the jungle. Hands fisted at his sides, his stare intense, and rather than a soft smile, his mouth was compressed flat, his jaw tense. What startled her most were his eyes, no longer the welcoming aquamarine, they had darkened to the stormy haze of azurite—a mixture of blue lapis and green malachite.
With a grunt, he pointed at the basin, and the cloth she hadn’t known she’d dropped, and stormed out the door.
What had she done?
Lana stared after him for a moment. Becoming aware he’d left her alone, and this might be her only chance to escape, she peeked around the screen. The tent was empty. As fast as she could with her throbbing thigh, she crossed the room to the flap. She raised it but dropped it as quickly after seeing the bare back of a man standing guard.
Crap.
If she could slip by him, what then? How did she rescue the other girls and get off this hot, humid, alien-infested rock? Lana’s shoulders slumped, and with tears prickling her eyes, she collapsed on the nearby pillow-strewn couch.