I hate him, I repeat over and over. I can’t believe he is already passed out. I tug on the belt wrapped around the thick root. This is how my time has been spent for the past two weeks—constantly tied to something.

I really hate him.

My arms begin to burn. This is hopeless. I suppose I should try and get some rest.

Orien rolls over and lets out a low snore. At least someone’s getting their beauty sleep. His muscular arms twitch, but I cannot help but glance down to between his legs. I know he wants me, but will he give in?

The ghost of his hard cock pressing between my legs stirs me. I clench my thighs together and take a deep breath. There is no way I’m allowing myself to lose control around him, and I most definitely will not develop any sort of feelings for the monster. He thinks he is smooth and calculated. Clearly, he’s never dealt with someone as stubborn as me before.

I need for him to want me enough to take me home. That’s a lot to ask, but it may work. I adjust my position to something more comfortable, but it’s difficult with these alien handcuffs on. I let out a groan of frustration. This is not fair.

“I hate you so much,” I whisper, leaning down over his ear.

He smiles, nothing more than the flicker of his lips. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” He reaches out a hand and pats my leg. His eyes remain shut.

Is he sleep-talking? I don't move.

His hand pulls away and nuzzles under his head. “You should really try and unwind, Emily.”

“Why are you like this?”

His eyes open, and he stares at me lazily. He lays on his back, looking up at me. He places both his hands behind his head and lets out a deep sigh. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you don’t make any sense. The first time we met, you kissed me, and now you’re acting like the biggest asshole in the universe.”

He chews on his bottom lip. “I am extremely tired, so let me sum this up for you the best way I can.” He sits up. Strands of hair hang over his face. “I’m the way that I am because I’m the biggest asshole in the universe. It’s pretty simple.”

“Clearly, you are,” I mutter. “Do you even know what ‘asshole’ means?”

“Yes. My translator works fine.” He returns to his position on the ground. “You know, you’re quite the little asshole as well.”

I gasp at his jab. “Are you serious?”

He laughs, then closes his eyes.

I sit there for a moment, replaying our conversation. He’s already passed out once again.

I try my best to sleep. There’s no comfortable position. Every time I begin to doze off, I think I feel a spider or some bug crawling on my leg. There isn’t one, of course, but I’ve never slept outside before, and I’m paranoid because I had to deal with some nasty bedbugs and cockroaches in the places where I grew up.

I stare up at the lofty trees hanging over me. The bark on them is light grey and flexible. I dig my fingers into the root, surprised by its softness, but when I yank, it doesn’t move.

I shift my focus to Orien. When he’s sleeping, he looks far less malicious.

I notice a light scar running down the side of his cheek. It’s very faint, but the light of the dwindling fire is casting just the right shadow to draw attention to it. His sharp features ease in the dim light. Without those glowing eyes, he almost looks kind.

“Who are you, Orien from Baroma?” I whisper under my breath. “What kind of life have you lived?” My voice is nothing but a faint sound even I can barely hear. I half expect him to wake up again, but this time, he does not stir once.

I am startled when Mor’s eyes snap open. At first, he appears to be staring directly at me. The look on his face is intense, almost frightening. Then he jerks up. His body remains fixed, and his attention is directed out into the woods.

Neither he nor I move, but Orien twists where he lays while he dreams, and lets out a loud snore. I’m surprised by how slowly Mor stands; for such a large being, he doesn’t make one sound. He walks over.

His steps are silent as they cross the camp. He bends down and presses one hand over Orien’s mouth, and the other on his arm. He shakes the golden alien firmly.

Orien’s eyes snap open, and his voice is muffled by Mor’s large hand. Mor places a finger to his lips and then points out into the woods. Orien’s eyes grow bright and look around wildly. He slowly reaches over and unties his belt from the tree, releasing me.

What’s going on? I scan the perimeter and don’t see anything, but I do notice the silence. The lively jungle has become deadly still. The strange exotic screeches and calls of the forest have all faded away into noiselessness.

My heart begins to race, and the hair on the back of my neck rises. A long moment passes, and none of us dare to move.

Then a snarl so low, I feel it in my chest, reverberates around us. I hear the snapping of sticks. Adrenaline pours into my system as I look out in the dark jungle. Orien pulls the knife from its sheath. The blade glistens in the moonlight, and glows gold, like his eyes.

The slacker dozing by the fire is now unrecognizable. His brows furrow over electric eyes; his body is taut and ready for action. He spins the blade in his hand several times, not even looking—he’s practiced that move.

Now, I can tell he’s a true predator.

Mor stands next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Orien has a gun, already aimed and held out at the ready. “Emily, don’t move. Whatever you do, don’t move,” Orien growls in a low whisper without looking at me.

His words pass through me like a cold breeze. All my attention is transfixed on the menacing creature crawling out of the shadows directly in front of me.

It’s almost like a wolf, but twice the size, and with six long, spidery legs. Shaggy black fur hangs from an emaciated body. A red stripe runs down from its forehead to its thin, rodent-like tail. Drool hangs from its short, twisted snout, where shiny, white needle teeth glisten.

Three red blistery eyes fall directly on me. I feel as though I'm turning to stone, and the world is spinning around me. The fear holding my heart is too great, and I cannot move. It lifts its demented head and takes a long, deep breath.

The blast of Orien’s laser pistol fills the air. The monster writhes on the ground. It happens so quickly I have no time to process the attack, but I see steam rising from the large hole in its chest where Orien shot.

“Damned space monsters,” Orien mutters. The creature lets out one guttural cry as it takes its last breath and then dies.

“Good job, Orien.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

More growls, mixed with low, deep yelps, fill the air around us.

It wasn’t alone.

“Fucking three suns. What did we do—sleep in their nest?”

More of the spider-mutts slink out from the shadows and behind trees. A pack of them begin to assemble around us, ready for attack. This could be our end. Pointed claws paw and scrape the wet ground. Their shiny eyes reflect the light of the fire.

“Get a head start,” Mor instructs. Both of them are shockingly calm.

“I guess it's show time,” Orien says. He jumps toward me and slides a stable hand around my waist. For the first time since my kidnapping, he makes me feel safe.

In reaction to Orien’s movement, one of the monsters instantly leaps out of the pack. It falls mid-jump to the ground, and Mor reloads his own gun.

“Let’s go, Emily,” Orien says.

Everything happens immediately. Orien swings me around and throws me onto his back, and I wrap my hands around his neck, clinging for life.

He’s running, but it feels more like flying. The jungle and world sweep past us as he sprints at inhuman speed. Everything becomes one dark blur around me.

I hear several blasts rip through the air. The creatures’ skulls and blood splatter across the woods.

“Hang on!” Orien shouts.

I tighten my grip, but a shriek passes my lips. Several of the monsters are keeping pace with us on either side. Their massive furry bodies begin to close in.

One meets their end when it lunges at Orien. His knife tears through it with one swipe, and it crumples to the ground. “You’re choking me,” he gurgles out.

I loosen my grip. “Sorry.”

His speed doubles. His white hair whips into my face, and I close my eyes. I hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. Still more swarm around us, somehow closing on Orien’s trail. Another one falls by Orien’s blade. It lets out an ear-piercing screech as it falls behind, knocking several down with it.

But then blinding pain rips through my spine. My throat lets out a blood-curdling scream as I am pulled off Orien; a mouth of needle-sharp teeth buries itself deep into my back.

Orien has leapt over a fallen tree several yards away from me before he realizes I’m gone.

A wall of monsters falls between him and me. The pain wracks my body. I cry out and convulse, kicking wildly, trying to remove the creature from my back, but its jaw is locked into my flesh.

Its head twists, and it throws me against the ground. I scramble and try to scratch at the monster’s face. I desperately want to remove myself from this nightmare. Its fur is oily, and I can’t get a grip on the greasy hair.

All I can do is scream.

“Don’t worry about me!” I hear someone shout. “Get her! Fucking get her!”

I don’t know where he came from, but Orien emerges, bludgeoning the monster tearing into my back. His slender arm swings hard, knocking another two out cold with disproportionate strength. His gun fires into their heads several more times, and their bodies lay limp.

Without stopping, Orien lifts me from the ground and runs at full speed. He cradles me in his arms, which are covered in bite marks. I look up at him, but everything is growing dark. I hear Mor scream something in the distance, but I don’t understand. I try to keep my eyes open, but my mind is sinking.

The shadows of trees mixed with the light of the stars pass through me. My body trembles. I hear the sound of more creatures following close behind. Their howls resonate in my head.

Orien lets out a curse under his breath, and then I see it, through my hazy vision: the edge of a cliff in a great clearing.

We come to a dead stop, Orien locking his legs to keep us from tumbling over the steep edge.

There is no escape. The horrible creatures are circling behind us. Their gnashing teeth and yipping howls mix with the sound of a raging waterfall spewing over the edge of the cliff.

Orien sets me on the ground and releases several more shots, keeping the creatures from growing too confident. The beasts fall, but they seem to be never-ending, spilling out from behind the trees.

After looking down at me, Orien shouts something. Mor responds back, but they both feel far away. When they speak, I can’t make anything out, just the sound.

Orien looks down at me once more. His lips move, and Mor screams a response. I realize they’re fighting, but about what?

My thoughts are fading from me now. Weariness consumes me.

I barely manage to lift my head up, but I see Orien. He stands, bent over. Thick orange blood gushes from several deep cuts. His chest rises and falls as he takes deep, ragged breaths. He stumbles forward, then backward.

“Save her first, Mor,” he says moaning. I want to tell him no, that I’ll be fine, but there are no words. Instead, he picks me up as I remain silent, unable to speak.

My mind is gone. The last thing I see is the glint of his golden eyes fading into the dark night.

Orien steps forward toward the cliff, and then he pulls me tightly against his chest. His skin feels like it’s on fire.

No—that’s my skin. I’m hot and feverish. My body is doing everything it can to stay alive. His grip tightens on me. He runs forward at a full sprint, leaping off the cliff, and the world around us shifts as we fall. The wind whips past my face; the mist of the water sprays across my skin. Darkness consumes my mind.