My fur covered tongue scraped my cracked palate.

Shit—hangover from hell and a mouthful of Satan’s asshole. I covered my eyes. I’d been roofied for sure.

What messed up dreams I’d had.

Spaceships. Talking computers. Alien planets. Space caves. Horny yet oddly chivalrous barbaric warriors…

“Bet en et brook mein broom broom.”

My eyes flew open.

Nooooooo.

This couldn’t be—wasn’t possibly…

Real ?

And yet the warm toned, brutally masculine features of an alien hovered inches above my face.

I shoved my palm against his forehead. How long had he been hovering over me like that?

Creeper .

This alien had no concept of personal space. He reminded me of a Saint Bernard my uncle had growing up that’d always try and sit on me when I fell over—and thought it was helping.

“Bet en et brook mein broom broom.”

A groan escaped me. Not the god-damned broom broom again. I pushed harder, hoping he’d take the hint.

He remained unmoved.

“Seriously, dude?” I dropped my hand from his forehead. “My skull is about to split open and I feel like I ate a camel. Need me to breathe on you right now to teach you a lesson?”

His face tilted a little and he peered down at me, then leaned back.

I let out a breath and scooted upright on the pile of furs topping some kind of flexible mattress that dipped with movement. I glanced at the ceiling. Cool daylight seemed to fill the cave—but it wasn’t actually daylight. I squinted and caught a glimpse of something up above. Like stalactites.

Interesting …

Then the rest of the room sunk in. A table. Shelves full of strange objects. Tapestries and ornaments draped the walls. All very freaking civilized for someone who wore a loin cloth, fur cloak, and horned helmet.

“Hmm…” I tugged a woven blanket up my chest and tucked it under my armpits.

“Woomph kan et mik?”

I looked back at the Baratican. Whooph seemed to go hand in hand with broom . “How about you try getting a thirsty girl a drink before launching right into dirty talk?”

His heavy brow wrinkled.

I made the shape of a cup with my hand and took an imaginary sip. “Drink. I need water.”

His brow softened and he smiled. “Kerr sun.”

Those extended canines of his flashed. Shivers shot down my spine. He stood then crossed the cave and disappeared into an alcove, returning with a wooden cup.

He handed me the drink and sat at my side.

“Thank you.” Relief flooded me. I peered at the clear contents and sipped cautiously. The taste was pure but with a mineral tang. I gulped, grateful it wasn’t the salty stuff he’d given me earlier.

He shifted closer and his face lowered into my hair, sniffing. I leaned away while drinking. Not that I’d want to be sniffed even if I were clean, but there was no way I smelled anything other than revolting. A grimy sensation clung to my skin.

The drink eased my scratchy throat.

“More please.” I pointed in the cup. “More water.”

He rose and fetched another water.

I sipped this cup slowly.

His heat blazed beside me, almost as insistent as his attitude. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling sharply. Water sloshed down my chest.

A low growl rumbled through him.

Oh, crap.

I shoved at the top of his head. “Stop.”

He tugged at the blanket. The fabric wrenched from my fingers.

He nuzzled my chest, growling intensifying.

I dropped the cup. “I said no.”

An unwelcome warmth flared in my middle, as though my system experienced some psychic repercussion to the sound. I remembered the sound from when he’d had his vibrating tongue pressed on my pussy…

My nipples tightened.

No . I gasped. This was weird, crazy, and wrong.

I shoved him harder. “No.”

He tossed the blanket away, his attention turning to my thighs.

I drew them closer together.

He pressed a palm to my chest and pushed me down on the bed.

This can’t be happening.

My chest tightened.

This really couldn’t be happening…

“Please don’t…” I squeezed my eyes shut. No point fighting it this time. He was unstoppable. Like Macca said—fighting would make it worse. Who knew how terribly alien sex would hurt.

His rumbling face brushed my quivering belly. The vibration hummed right to my core.

I couldn’t even fight my owned damned body. What hope did I have?

This can’t be happening…

A sob tore through me. I clamped a hand over my mouth. No, don’t cry. But this was too much.

My chest jerked with a snorting cry. I couldn’t contain any of it. I erupted into tears.

Something touched my face.

I opened my eyes but it didn’t stem the flow. He touched under my left eye. I sobbed.

The Baratican hovered over me.

He turned his hand between us and stared at it, leaning closer. His heavy cock nudged my thighs.

Holy shit.

Broken noises burst from my mouth. My chest shook.

The Leila I thought I was might be the furthest thing from hysterical, but right here right now, I didn’t just lose my shit—my shit went nuclear.

He dropped his hand, and his expression seized. “Oohtch?”

I kept on crying. On some still sane level, the part of me that had practiced psychology, knew to let it out. I hadn’t cried once since I’d been taken.

Not for the people I’d left behind. Not for the world I longed for. Not for the life I wanted back. Not for the horrors I’d learned.

“Whoomp oohtch?”

My ears rang. The sobs increased the pound of my headache. Highlighted the ache of my joints. The tenderness of my scraped and battered body.

He rolled me over.

I didn’t even try to stop it, just sagged in the furs. If he raped me from behind at least I wouldn’t have to watch.

Fingers pressed to my spine, then moved to the tense muscles screaming in my shoulders.

He touched the enormous tender section on my hip from sliding down the tunnel.

I shrieked, pain shooting through my side.

He flipped me over and held me against his chest as though I were a human toy.

I curled into myself.

Softness surrounded me.

He covered me in the blanket and hugged me.

“Net Oohtch.” His voice went oddly soft for something so deep.

My sobs calmed to gentler tears.

Warmth spread through my limbs. Sweat slickened my armpits and thighs. He seemed to have grown warmer.

“Net Oohtch,” he whispered again, and his almost scalding palms flowed over and over on my back.

I rested my cheek on his chest. My muscles loosened, and my hitching breath evened. I sunk into the heat, and the burn melted the pain inside and out.

“Leila.” My mind sharpened at the sound of Macca’s voice. “May we communicate?”

I shifted in the Baratican’s arms. Who knew how long we’d lain here. He’d only just begun to cool down, easing the sauna sensation.

“What do you want?” I whispered.

“I have accessed new resources on human psychology.”

I sighed. What—better to manipulate me with? “Good for you.”

“It appears I may have overlooked some aspects of human health in my calculations.”

The Baratican adjusted me against him and gazed down. I remained limp as a ragdoll, muscles as jellied as my will. I didn’t even have the energy to wipe back the sweat soaked hair plastered to my face.

“A Crestonian’s psychological association with sexual intercourse is entirely rational and physical. They are not consumed by emotion.”

I rubbed my nose, wishing there was an off switch to the implant. “Good for them.”

“Human’s, while primitive, share much genetic similarity to Crestonians.”

Was this going to be another human bashing comment? If so Macca could bash her comments up her—

“Perhaps I was not prepared for the potential for psychological trauma on the human mind as a result of unwanted mating.”

I blinked. The Baratican turned my chin examining the side of my head. He obviously heard Macca. But right now, I was the one who couldn’t believe my own ears.

“Is that an apology?” My mouth kicked up at one side.

“It is an admission of error.”

I found the strength to smile. “I appreciate the apology.”

For once the obnoxious super computer didn’t compete for the last say.

“It is essential for a cooperative relationship that trust is fostered.”

“Hmm, true,” I hummed. “Too bad about that, ha?”

The Baratican jammed his fingertip against my ear canal. Lucky for him his giant fingertip wouldn’t fit or I might find the strength to explore if biting had any effect on his digits.

I brushed his hand aside. In yet another out of character response from these two predictable alien entities, he actually took the hint and removed his touch from my ear.

“It is correct that I withheld information you may have found relevant to decision making.”

“Wow, you’re really breaking barriers here, Macca.”

The Baratican touched under my eyes and squinted as though checking for a second bought of impending hysteria.

“That is precisely my intention. To that end I wish to advise that should you so desire, it is possible to filter and interpret Baratican language in your implant.”

I blinked. “You mean, I could actually talk to him?”

“Eventually,” Macca hummed in my ear. “Initially you could hear him in real time interpreted in the implant, but he would not understand you. At your request it is possible to upload the Baratican language to your microchip but that requires a full REM sleep cycle.”

If my mind could get more blown, it just exploded.

“Please make all of that happen as quickly as possible.” Energy—or maybe it was hope—returned to my limbs. I sat up, easing out of his arms and clutched the blanket to my chest. “And I appreciate this, Macca. From now on its full disclosure and we help each other.”

“Agreed. In this spirit I must warn you that you may not find comfort in the Baratican’s words.”

I stared at the Baratican. At his strange exaggerated features which seemed to grow more usual the more I looked at them. “I don’t care about comfort, I want to know what’s going on.”

“As you request.”

His gaze drifted over me. He’d let me up, but his attention remained fully fixated.

He leaned forward and tugged at the blanket. It snapped right out of my arms.

Not again.

But he didn’t pounce on me and he didn’t growl.

He took my elbow and shifted me so I tipped onto my side. I groaned. What do you call it when it’s not a human manhandling you?

Beast-handling?

Alien-handling?

His fingers brushed my hip. “Ouch better?”

I twitched at the shock of his words. It worked—I’d understood him.

I glanced at my side where he touched. What the hell? What had been a deep purple bruise earlier had turned mottled green. Like a fading bruise. But it was brand new?

He poked my skin.

How does a forming bruise fade?

“Not make mate when hurt.” His wide mouth turned down.

My eyes flared. He wouldn’t jump my bones while he thought I was in pain?

An enormous flood of relief sent my head spinning.

So, the amorous alien had some moral code.

Too bad mine was compromised right now.

I clutched my hip and gave an exaggerated whimper.

His mouth pursed farther, the concern so evident on his alien features that it almost caused a pang of guilt.

Almost .

I rocked backwards and gave a sniffle. Academy awards eat your heart out. I was not above utilizing my full theatrical capabilities as an interspecies rape prevention measure.

His touched moved over my hip, and—oh, god. His hand heated. Just like that. A living, walking heat-pack-hand-man. He rubbed my side.

Up and down and around.

The blissful sensation melted through me. A moan slipped out of my lips. I sputtered, covering the moan with a cough, and produced another contrived whimper.

His attention flew to my face. He paused and re-covered me with the blanket. Ironically, I almost dragged his hand back to my hip.

What was wrong with me?

He stroked the hair from my face. “Resting today my wife. We make mating tomorrow.”

I choked for real—saliva flying into my lungs.

His what now?

I banged my fist on my chest. “Why the fuck did he just call me his wife?”

If a computer could sigh, Macca did so in the pause before replying. “The Baratican marriage ritual has commenced. Consider this an engagement. Once consummation has occurred the marriage cycle will be completed.”

My hand flattened over my hammering chest. “What the hell is a marriage cycle and how do I stop it?”

He tugged on my earlobe. “This parasite or machine?”

“Holy crap, there are parasites that talk in your ear?” A shudder shook me. Space was freaking revolting.

“There has never been a Baratican infestation of mindmeal, so you will not contract one here.”

Mindmeal ? I gave another shudder, then released a breath. “Back to this marriage. How do I stop it?”

“Once consummation occurs the only way to end the marriage is death.”

My pulse became a pounding, gut twisting carnival attraction within my body. “But don’t I have to participate in this marriage, ritual, whatever it is?”

“You are and will participate whether you are aware of it or not.”

I ran a hand down my cheek. “How did this even start?”

“The Baratican began pairing with you the moment he sampled your DNA.”

“Sampled my DNA?” My breath stopped. That sneaky vagina munching monster… “And you didn’t warn me.”

“I have confessed my error in judgment. We have reached compromise have we not?”

I forced myself to breathe through the clutch of anxiety.

“We have.” No good getting my only ally offside. We’d turned over a new leaf—wiped the slate clean and all that crap.

His attention flicked across my face as though reading my features.

“Time for resting.” He nudged me to lay down. “Be comfort wife, we make much mating after resting.”

I stretched out. My head pounded. Yeah, I was “much” comforted by that promise. “Get that language in me, Macca. I need to be able to talk to him.”

“Then do as he says and rest. You will have what you desire when you wake.”

Not sure how Macca intended to have me waking up back home in my bed, with a bottle of Sav Blanc on the side table, and the week off work to get over screwed up dreams—because that was my hearts truest desire.

But failing that, I’d settle for alien language.