The heavy chains on Drako’s legs drew tight as he shuffled down the corridor. They were short, allowing him only small, uncomfortable steps. Attached to each shackle was another short chain with a heavy weight he dragged behind him. Frik shoved the barrel of his rifle between his shoulder blades, making him stumble. He flung his head around with a snarl, which only incited a laugh from the agent. Since waking up in chains, Frik had beaten him and given him countless electric shocks. Revenge for the guard’s broken wrist, he assumed. There was also a spark of perverse excitement in the Earthling’s eyes whenever he doled out the torture. No doubt, he took pleasure from it. A defective psychological trait. He could easily strangle the pitiful man with the chains that bound his wrists, but they were taking him to his pod––at last––and he needed to know where it was too badly to evoke the humans’ anger right now.

His mission had been to conduct reconnaissance on Earth. His planet, Krina, was dying, and the Krinar needed a new, habitable home. Life on Earth had been instigated by his compatriots, and although he was too young to have taken part in the experiment, he’d learned all about it before setting off on his mission. His feedback was not concerning the nature of food sources or other physical means of survival––he was not a biologist, and there were other Krinar for that––but to report on human behavior. He was to gather first-hand knowledge of their comportment so that the Elders could access how easy, or difficult, integration would be. Another shove from Frik and he was starting to think humans didn’t deserve the planet they inhabited. If the SS were to be ambassadors of their kind, he’d put a recommendation forward that the species be extinguished, as cohabitation with such a cruel and underdeveloped race seemed highly improbable, if not dysfunctional. So far, they’d given him no reason to plead for their lives—except for one.

The female they’d brought to tend to his wounds. Ilse. He rolled the name around in his mind, as he did in all the hours they kept him chained in their prison. It kept him sane. She was different. She was kind and gentle. Soft. In body and soul. He’d smelled her distress at causing him pain. It had a fragrance of burnt sugar. He could smell her fear, too, but she was brave, brave enough to defend him against her own kind. There were other smells far more intoxicating than her care and bravery. Her womanly essence had drifted to him the minute she’d entered his cell, sweet and seductive, unlike anything he’d experienced. The perfume of her skin was like the petals of a rose, a bloom unique to Earth. Beneath that, there was the promise of her blood that drew him like a deranged vampire. He’d drunk the occasional synthetic blood at the Krina bars and enjoyed it as much as any other Krinar, but he’d been told nothing compared to the real thing. It would seem the hearsay wasn’t unfounded, because he’d never been more tempted to taste anything in his life. He’d filled the long hours with no distinction between day or night with images of the impossibly small, curvy woman, imagining what it would be like to touch her everywhere, to kiss the fragrant skin of her neck, to run his tongue over her most sensitive parts, and to sink his teeth into the delicate vein in her neck. Just a taste. He’d meant it when he’d said he didn’t want to hurt her. If the rumors were anything to go by, biting her would bring her pleasure if they were coupling during the act. The thought alone had him go hard. It took extreme concentration to force down his dick. The guards who escorted him to the station where they kept his pod weren’t the audience he wanted for his hardening dick. It was an exotic creature with cloudy blue eyes, golden hair, generous hips, perfectly rounded breasts, and the softest hands he’d ever felt. She was nothing like the tall, lean, and toned Krinar females he’d coupled with. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to settle between her legs and take her deep with everything he had––fingers, tongue, teeth, and cock.

“We’re here,” Pete said, holding up a hand to halt the entourage.

He punched in a code on a wall panel, and a metal door slid open to reveal a large warehouse with broken windows.

Drako would have no problem finding the place again. He’d carefully noted the path and stored it in his brain. They were on the upper level of the building in which they kept him on what appeared to be a closed rooftop. From the dirty and broken windowpanes, he could see a helicopter outside on a concrete slab. After assessing possible dangers and escape routes, his priority was locating his pod. He didn’t have to wait long. At Pete’s command, the guards drew a curtain aside. His pod stood in the middle of the floor. The left side was gone, due to the explosion. Irreparable. What concerned him more were the men in white coats surrounding his craft. They carried all kinds of ancient-looking tools. The dashboard that contained the communication system had been dismantled, the pieces lying neatly next to one another on a sheet on the floor.

He jerked forward with rage, only to receive the heel of Frik’s boot on his kidney.

“My technicians spent forty-eight hours on your plane,” Pete said, “without any luck. None of it makes sense. Show them how to repair it, and you can use it to fly home, wherever that is.”

He could smell the lie. It had a foul odor, like rotten food. His lip curled up in disgust.

“Well, buddy?” Pete said, giving him a slap on the shoulder. “What do you say?”

Falseness added another dimension of rot to the smell that poured from the man’s pores.

Drako gave him a level look. “I can’t assist in your request.”

Pete’s brow scrunched. “What?”

“I’m not a technician,” Drako said. “I don’t have the knowledge to fix the … plane.” Which was the truth.

“He’s lying,” Frik yelled. “I’ll get the truth out of him.”

“Like you did when Agent Morrison lost his arm?” Pete said. “No,” he shook his head, “I have a feeling he’s telling the truth.”

“Then he’s worth nothing to us.”

Pete turned to Drako. “Can you contact your planet?”

“No.” Not at the moment. If he managed to fix the distress signal feature on the communication device, maybe.

Pete grabbed his uninjured shoulder. “Tell us where you’re from.”

What damage could it do? They’d find out sooner than later. Anyway, he would eventually escape, and when he did, he wasn’t going to leave any evidence of the Krinar’s existence behind. It would be a few guards and agents’ wild story with nothing to show for it.

“Krina,” he replied.

Frik looked at Pete. “I’ve never heard of such a planet.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Drako said. “It’s in a different galaxy.”

Frik gave a snort-laugh. “You expect us to believe that?”

“Yes.” The man’s shortsighted vision was another one of his defects. Drako couldn’t truly blame him, seeing that the Krinar had kept their existence a secret for so long humans believed they were the only intelligent species in the universe. “I am a Krinar.”

“A Krinar, eh?” Frik chuckled. “He can’t repair his craft, and he can’t contact his people. I say we give him to research, see what they find if they cut him open.”

“I’d like to have a word with Frik in private,” Pete said.

At the command, the other guards scattered to the far end of the hall, out of earshot, but their bullets still in range.

Pete took Frik’s arm and pulled him aside. It was out of human earshot, but with Drako’s enhanced hearing, he had no problem following the conversation.

“He’s inhumanely strong,” Pete said in a hushed tone.

“All the more reason to let the science guys slice him up. The sooner the better.”

“You don’t understand. We can’t use his technology, and we can’t contact his home to trade him for their advanced weapons or knowledge, but we’re sitting on a goldmine.”

“Even if the metal of his plane is stronger than any reinforced titanium, what use is it if we can’t source or replicate it?”

Pete glanced at Drako. “It’s not the metal I’m interested in selling. It’s the man.”

Frik scratched his head. “The man?”

“We have the strongest soldier the world has ever seen in our possession.”

Frik’s gaze lit up. “You mean sell him?”

“Why would we sell one man if we can sell an army?”

“I’m not following. You’ve lost me.”

Pete brought his head closer to Frik’s. “DNA. We can make our own army. Countries would pay a fortune for it. Imagine the power we’ll have. I’m talking world manipulation.”

“Fucking brilliant,” Frik exclaimed. “We can sell the DNA for cloning.”

“Exactly.”

“I like you more and more, boss.”

“I’d have to run it past the president, but in my experience, he’s not a man to shy away from money or power, no matter how unorthodox it is.”

“Just make sure you get us each a big cut, enough to retire before word gets out and other countries let their spies loose on us.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll both have enough money to disappear forever. As far as I’m concerned, this operation never existed.”

Frik nodded his approval. “Good thinking.”

“Take him back to the cell,” Pete called to the guards. He addressed Frik in a softer voice. “Take a blood sample. We should be able to extract the DNA from that.”

Drako’s Krinar blood seethed. Of all the foul, under-handed manners in the universe, these humans displayed the worse. Not only were they cruel, but also greedy. He suppressed a wry chuckle. They were in for a surprise if they thought they’d clone him.