I kick the wall of the cell with my heel. The shock is absorbed, but I try it again. There has to be a weak spot or some way I can get out of here.

The sedative has worn off, but the fertility drug from the agency has definitely been kicking in. With the sedative and my fear wearing off, I’m suddenly aware that I’m—well, I’m pretty horny. I’d rubbed one out a few times while I was there, but I just kind of thought I was bored.

Being tied up isn’t helping matters, either. Josh would never do it, but I’d always wanted to try something like this.

Too bad my first experience being tied to a bed is coming while I’m some kind of prisoner and unwilling bride for an alien king.

Well, at least I’m not bored anymore.

I jerk my arms fast, hoping my bonds will release if I tug long enough. I feel the walls of the cell shake around me as the door opens.

I tug on the leather straps tied around both my arms. The straps are connected to the metal cot welded into the white enameled floor. My wrists burn from yanking on them for the past few hours.

Then the door opens, and he stands before me in the doorway. A strange and confusing wave of emotion dumps into my stomach, and I grow rigid.

Golden glowing eyes like burning ochre fall onto mine.

My heart skips. I can’t look away, nor do I want to. Something plunges into my gut. Is it desire? I try to ignore it, but it is already reaching between my legs. I shift my weight. No one has ever made me feel this way and definitely not with just one passing glance.

His jaw hasn’t dropped, but he looks captivated. The glow of his eyes flickers. He directs his gaze up, and I am finally released from his spell.

“What do you want?” I mean to sound assertive and demanding, but it comes out as weak and pathetic.

With his powerful eyes tilted away, I can assess him. He’s tall, but not like the other one. He’s within a human height range, lanky, and his skin is a dark tan, with an almost amber shine to it. Intricate winding tattoos of dark gold shine on his exposed skin, transparent and faintly sparkling. I don’t recognize the strange symbols, but they stop at his neck.

He is unreasonably gorgeous. Long white hair falls over his face and past his shoulders, but it’s his eyes, richer than bright rays of an evening sunset, that make my heart hammer in my chest. A flicker of a grin passes his lips, and then he gives me a wide smile.

Why am I so turned on? It’s almost unfair.

“You need to stop moving, or you will hurt yourself.” His voice is like liquid brass, sweet and low. His accent is rich; the words roll out of his mouth melodically.

“Fuck you,” I clench my teeth.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sorry my companion was so rude. I gave him a talking-to. However, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t punch or kick me.”

He walks forward slowly. He gets on one knee, and his hands reach down to grab the straps. We are close; my heart races. I don’t know if it is from fear or arousal, but my body is shaking.

I sense the danger in him. He moves like a military man, like a warrior, but also saunters like a jaguar. Then our eyes catch one another once more, and I feel as though I can’t breathe. He unlatches the first strap around my left wrist.

I stare at him intently. Warmth radiates from his trim, firm body. His black shirt clings tightly to his skin, revealing veiny forearms covered with those strange tattoos. There, on the loop of his black leather belt, a curved knife rests on his hip in its sheath.

An idea passes through me quickly. He is close enough for me to pull it right out and stab him with it.

I suddenly feel his eyes on me, as though he’s reading my mind. His hand fumbles with the strap of my right arm.

I don’t wait. This could be the only shot I have.

I reach for the hilt of the blade and yank it out with a quick jerk. It pulls free, but before I can even swing it, his hand wraps tightly around my wrist. At first, his face shows confusion, and then it shifts to amusement.

The dangerous flicker reappears in his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he says. His smooth voice entrances me. It’s almost enough to make me stop.

But then, I kick him with all my might, right in the gut. He lets out a breath of air when I make contact with his hard abdomen.

“That fucking hurt,” he winces. Then before I can react, he twists my arm and forces me to drop the knife. The knife clangs against the floor.

Rage and terror climb their way through me. I kick and squirm under his firm grasp. “Let me go,” I spit.

He jerks me forward, and suddenly, he is holding both my wrists up against the wall over my head with one large hand.

The ghost of a smile appears back onto his lips. “Impressive, especially for a non-combatant. If I let you go, will you stop fighting and trying to hurt me?”

“Leave me alone!”

“I want to, but I need to make sure everyone on the ship, yourself included, is safe first. Truce?”

He’s really strong. There’s no way I can get out of this.

It occurs to me that force isn’t the only way to get what I want.

I lower my eyes, trying to channel every moment of stage femme fatale-roles through myself. “I’m sorry. I was just so frightened,” I drawl. I look up at him for effect, then lower my eyes. “You’re sure you won’t hurt me?”

He cocks his head to the side. “I promise.”

I lift my hands, jutting my chest forward. “Could you undo this other strap and the ones around my ankles?”

He kicks the knife away, then does so, watching me carefully the whole time.

I pant, breathing with my chest so that my boobs heave a little. “Oh, thank you.” I wipe sweat from my forehead quickly. “Do you mind? I’m so warm.” I slowly unzip the jacket, letting my cleavage peek through an inch at a time.

He raises a white eyebrow, as though he can see right through my act. But his golden skin is flushing red around his cheeks. Is he blushing?

That’s a good sign. As soon as I’m free, I jump forward and kiss him.

I am completely undone. An intense warmness spreads from my stomach through my body. It is similar to kissing a human man, but everything feels more intense. Our lips meld together. He tastes sweet to me; his tongue gently glides into my mouth, and it feels foreign.

“Oooh,” I mumble out weakly underneath his lips.

The warmness rises under my skin and turns into heat. My heart is racing, and my face flushes. I feel—I feel intoxicated like I’m three glasses of wine deep, and I want more, so much more.

He hesitantly touches my shoulders. “Do you want me to stop?”

My mind turns back on with his words as if I’m waking up from a deep sleep. The reality that a strange alien is kissing me sets in all at once.

The panic ruptures out of me. I pull away. He jumps back, trying to give me space—and slips. He goes down hard on the floor.

The alien staggers away from me, crawling. His hands clasp around his nose as orange blood leaks from his nostrils. It drips down onto the floor.

“Fucking! Fuck!” His words switch then into a strange language that sounds like a mix of Italian and Arabic. He teeters back and leans against the wall.

I could totally make an escape now, try to hijack this ship and turn it around to Earth.

Back to your boring life, a little voice inside reminds me.

So, a man I haven’t met, don’t love, and don’t trust, or a crappy, overpopulated planet and an even crappier boyfriend?

Well, there’s a reason I’m out here in the first place. I turn my attention back to the handsome creature on the floor. “Are you okay?” I ask reluctantly.

He shakes his head. He’s already stopped bleeding—looks like he heals fast. “Nothing I can’t take,” he wheezes.

I notice that he’s kicked the knife out of my reach, and he’s already on his feet.

“So, are you going to make a break for it?” he asks calmly.

I sigh. “I was thinking about it. This whole thing is sketchy.”

“Sketchy?”

“Dubious. Questionable. Spurious.”

He pauses for a moment, and I realize he’s relying on the translator. “I see.” His mouth quirks up at the corner. “I wish I could tell you the half of it.”

“Wait, what’s really going on?”

“We’re taking you to the king, just as they told you.” He frowns. “This isn’t against your will, is it?”

I look down. “Everyone else got jewelry and presents and photos. I don’t have anything. I don’t even know who I’m marrying or where I’m going to end up.”

He looks at me sympathetically. “I wish I could help, but a lot rests on this. Peace in the entire system, to be honest.”

I nod glumly. “I’ve been told.”

He backs away, toward the door. “We won’t hurt you. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t have an appetite for anything right now,” I snap back.

“Mor will bring you food later.” He stops in the doorway and opens his mouth. He decides against speaking, and he walks out without another word.

The door shuts, and I am alone once more.

My head hits the mattress. I stare at the alien spaceship’s ceiling; it’s grey and blank.

How long are they going to leave me in here?

If only I had stayed in my room that night. It feels like years ago. If only I had done a lot of things differently.

I take a deep breath. I don’t think either of those aliens is going to let me go. The blue one is a lunkhead, and the gold one—my thoughts trail off, and my body reacts to the image of him.

My stomach flutters, and my pussy clenches. It’s clear I have an intense attraction to him, one stronger than anything I have ever felt. When I close my eyes, I see him illuminating the dark.

Why did he let me kiss him? My lips still tingle with the feel of his tongue and the taste of his sweetness.

I shudder. I want him, but how can I trust him if he won’t tell me what’s going on, either? I’m not safe here, especially with that one running around. I hate myself for wanting him more.

But I do want him, and my hands are free, and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

Hours pass as I lay there on the mattress. I pleasure myself, then nap, but mostly, I’m bored out of my mind. I would give anything for access to that online library.

I prop myself onto my elbow when I hear the sound of footsteps coming back down the hall. My stomach jumps. Has the blue one come back to harass me some more?

But it’s the gold one. I don’t even know his name.

He offers me a hand in comfort or greeting. I don’t even try to fight it. My shoulders relax. I roll them back and drop them to my side, pushing myself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You okay?” he asks.

Am I okay? I repeat the question in my head several times. It is almost insulting. Is he really that clueless? I search his face and sense a real kindness behind those glowing eyes. He isn’t like the huge, muscly guy or that bitch, Kate.

I suck in a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“I brought you food.” He opens the door and pulls a tray around the corner.

There’s some kind of strange, leathery substance. It’s brown and cut into long, thick strips. He sets the food on the corner of the mattress.

“Paloma fruit. I checked human health specifications, and these should be completely palatable.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He leaves after that.

I examine the food strips. They are long and bumpy, almost like jerky, but smooth to the touch.

I press my nose to them and inhale. It smells sweet, almost like fruit leather, but slightly more bitter.

Can I eat this? I stare at it. It's a pretty pathetic meal. But better than nothing.

I have a few bites, chew, and swallow. It’s fine; sweet and bland, but with a tart aftertaste that I kind of like.

Now that my arms are finally free and I can stand, I walk around the small cell. Behind a section of wall, a large white bowl with a hole in its center sits in the far corner, next to a clean metal faucet. I wave my hand over the bowl, and water sprays down the hole. This is clearly the toilet. I will have to squat to use it. Above it, I see a showerhead, and below the toilet, a grate in the floor for the water.

Well, at least I won’t stink. How will I wash my clothes, though? Do they even need to be washed?

I stare at the strange toilet and the dried food leather. They are just gruesome reminders that I may never see Earth again.

Then I throw myself back onto the mattress, unsure of my fate.

I doze in and out of sleep. I keep expecting myself to jerk awake and find Josh lying next to me in the cold apartment. But every time I open my eyes, I remain in this cell.

My stomach lets out a low rumble. I get off the bed and try to drink some water from the faucet, but it only helps a little. I have no choice but to wait it out until one of them returns.

Luckily, after an hour or so, the gold one comes back with more of that food. He opens the cell door and sets it on the floor.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

He nods curtly, and the cell closes with the clicking of its lock.

I wonder what these guys are all about. They seem different. I assume they must work for the agency as some sort of delivery company.

The porcelain plate on the floor has the same exact meal from last night, but this time, I eagerly walk over to it. For a second, I hesitate. The texture is odd and unnatural, but my stomach gurgles in anticipation, and my mouth already waters. I do need the energy in case I have the opportunity to escape. It's a slim chance, but I refuse to give up completely.

I take a bite, just nibbling off the end. I am pleasantly surprised. This food leather has an unfamiliar sweetness to it; it reminds me of the skin of an orange and juice of a pear fused together. At first, it is tough, but then it turns gummy as I chew it.

I take another bite and feel more satisfied. I set the remaining pieces on the plate and leave it there on the floor.

The hours pass, and everything seems to blur together. I am not sure when it is night or day. There is no way for me to tell, except when the gold one comes to bring me some food, but every time I hear his footsteps approaching, I want him to come in and stay for longer.

To join me on the bed. But he hasn’t returned for longer than it takes to give me food since then.

I spend a few hours pacing around the cell. I start to work out, just for something to do. I used to hate exercising, but at least I can tire myself out.

I braid my hair and unbraid it. I sing songs. I recite bits of plays. I feel like I’m going mad. I’ve never been this bored in my life.

The next time I fall asleep, I dream of him. The first thing I see are those ochre eyes shining ablaze in complete blackness. His long fingers trace up and down my body, but all I can see are those radiant eyes watching, hunting me. I can’t look away; they have too strong a hold on me. His hands drift over my breasts, then to between my legs. My skin feels electric with his touch. I don’t protest or move. His fingers slide inside of me suddenly.

I gasp and shudder in pleasure.

“Do you want me to stop?” he murmurs right into my ear, in that rich, melodic accent, just as he did the other night.

“Keep going,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

His hand moves deeper, teasing my body. I tremble and gasp. I want him to move faster. Oh, god, I am close to coming, but he is drawing it out of me and making me suffer. His fingers stir inside of me, and my body tightens like a string pulled taut.

Something shakes me roughly, and my eyes flash open. I am completely drenched in sweat. My pussy trembles. The dream has affected my body, and my legs feel weak.

My cheeks burn a bright red when I finally notice that the golden-skinned man is standing over me.

I shake my head, extremely disoriented. I stumble, trying to keep my balance when my feet hit the ground. I am still battling the fierce arousal.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yup.”

He watches me for a second. My cheeks must be flushed. He can’t know though, unless—the thought embarrasses me deeply—unless I was making noise.

“Follow me.” He steps out of the cell. “And don’t say a word.” There is a strained tone in his voice.

Am I being moved? Did we finally make it to Omicron? I keep my pace up as we make our way down the hall. All the lights on the ship go dark. He reaches a hand down and roughly grabs my arm. I don’t pull back. I feel completely incapacitated by the heavy blackness. There is no light for me to see, and I am clueless as to what the right path is.

I suddenly want him to throw me against the wall, kiss me like that again, or like he was in my dreams.

“Just a minute,” he whispers, that low brass voice sending tingles through me. He offers a hand, and I take it. He holds me with one arm.

We start to descend a long staircase. His heavy boots clang against the metal stairs. What’s with the urgency? He makes a sharp right, I hear his hand fumbling for something, and then he opens a door.

My hands reach out blindly, and I feel small cool walls surrounding three sides of me. They run up and down the man’s chest.

“Where have you taken me?” I demand.

“Don’t make any noise,” he whispers. “I’m protecting you. You are in the safest place on the ship.”

And then he shuts the door.

I slide down onto the cold metal floor and wrap my arms around my knees. Adrenaline shoots through me. I know something bad is happening, but all I can think about are those ochre eyes. I stare out into the darkness of the small, cramped space, waiting for them to appear before me.