by Ivy McAdams
Her Alien Captor
Ivy McAdams
Her Alien Captor
Praezorian Bounty Hunters Book 1
by Ivy McAdams
Copyright © 2020 Ivy McAdams
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
https://ivymcadams.com
Kutarian Warriors
Abducted by an Alien Savage
Tamed by an Alien Savage
Craved by an Alien Savage
Praezorian Bounty Hunters
Her Alien Captor
Her Alien Keeper
Emerald Falls Series
Kidnapped by an Outlaw
Seduced by a Wrangler
Captivated by a Gunslinger
Emerald Falls Novella
Rescued by a Desperado (prequel)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Next in Series
Also by Ivy McAdams
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About the Author
Chapter 1
It’s as alien to me as anything I’ve ever experienced. The house is immaculate, especially after all the extras we’ve poured into it to make it perfect. Nearly every piece of it is new, but it still stinks.
I lean against the signpost down the block and study the two-story brick Victorian that’s been sitting on the market for exactly four hundred and seventeen days now. A streak unlike any I’ve ever seen, and one that will finally end tomorrow.
It has a beautiful green lawn, with vibrant pink and purple flowers tucked into the front planters. White shutters surround rows of windows, which make the natural light inside amazing. I led the kitchen remodel myself. It’s huge and has the best appliances, all in shiny steel with a reflection you could do your makeup in. Tray ceilings with drop-down light fixtures. My favorite granite countertops. Walls have been torn down and redone. All new fixtures and paint. Beautiful new floors throughout. A gutted attic that’s nice enough to turn into a new bedroom.
Everything is upgraded. Everything is amazing.
Except the smell.
A dog bark makes me jump. The German shepherd at my feet growls toward the house as we linger.
“It’s okay, Zeus,” I chuckle.
He hates that place.
This end of the block is as close as we can get on our daily walks. He throws a royal fit if we step any closer.
I suppose if I had a nose like he did, I’d do the same.
“Surely you can’t smell it from here,” I murmur, tugging his leash against his rigid frame.
The black hair on his shoulders is raised and he snorts as he eases away, letting me pull him across the street when the crosswalk sign lights up.
“At least it’ll be off our hands tomorrow.”
My grin couldn’t be any bigger. The house has been a headache from day one. And I’ve been in real estate for thirteen years. I’ve seen problem houses.
This one has been the worst. Ever.
No matter what we replaced, it still stank in that damn place.
After over six months of searching and fixing, I still have no clue what’s going on in there. But it’s a landmark old home, sitting in the perfect location downtown. We should have been nabbing a hefty price.
So I never gave up.
And thank everything that is holy that I did not, because my commission tomorrow morning is going to glow like the sun. It’ll pay off my car and my last credit card. If it was raining right now, I’d be singing.
Zeus growls again, hackles still up, as he stalks across to the next sidewalk. He’s a big dog—well over a hundred pounds, like a black and brown wolf—and he can sound pretty aggressive when he’s in a bad mood. Thankfully, I’ve only ever seen it when we walk this way.
Such a big difference from a few months ago when I found him, scraggly and starved outside that house.
“Let’s get home and have some dinner. That’ll make everyone feel better.”
After a late night at work drawing up the last of my paperwork for my clients, an older couple who apparently have no sense of smell, the rest of my day has been pushed way back. My walk with Zeus. Dinner. I’m ready to get off my feet, have a glass of wine, and melt into my couch.
Once we’re down the next street and out of sight—and smell—of the house, Zeus relaxes.
“You a good boy, huh?” I say with a smile as he drifts back to walk alongside me. I ruffle my hand over his head, wiggling his ears back and forth, and his mouth hangs open in a silent laugh.
I’ve been living alone for the last year, pouring myself into my job. Especially since this beast of a house no one could sell came along. It’s been nice to slow down for the last few months after rescuing Zeus. I haven’t had to care for anyone but myself since my mother passed away, and after being her caretaker for two strenuous years, I was afraid I’d never be able to commit to giving any of my time to another living thing again.
Thankfully, I’m not completely broken and was able to open up again because Zeus was a wreck when I picked him up. But I still drove right by the pound and took him home that night. And I’m grateful that I did.
The evening sun is dipping low on the horizon and stars are twinkling overhead. Traffic is slow tonight. There’s just enough crisp in the air to need a jacket and a pair of leggings beneath my cream-colored skirt. Enough to have Zeus prancing on his toes and wagging his tail now that we’re away from the dreaded intersection.
Such a happy, silly dog. Thank goodness for him. I scratch his ears again.
The hard vibrate in my jacket pocket startles me.
“Dang, hold up, boy,” I murmur as I tuck his leash under my arm and fish my phone out of my pocket.
It lights up when I lift it, and Dan Marsten’s name flickers across the screen. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as I stare at my boss’s name.
“Oh, no. Please don’t give me bad news.”
If he’s calling to tell me something in the deal fell through, I’ll scream. I can’t devote another six months of my life to trying to sell that piece of shit.
I wince at Zeus before answering. “Hello?”
“Esme, are you at the Miller House?”
“What? Right now?”
“Yes, are you there?”
I frown. “No. Why?”
“Dammit.”
The weight in my gut gets heavier. “What’s going on?”
“Are you close? Can you check on it?”
I glance back at the intersection that makes Zeus’s marbles shake. “What’s happening over there?”
“Someone’s tripped the alarm. One of the doors is open.”
My feet are moving as my frown deepens. I can already feel Zeus starting to stiffen next to me. “You think someone’s breaking in?”
“I think someone’s already in there doing who knows what.”
I grimace and pick up the pace, though I
’m not entirely sure I want to reach the house quicker if there’s a prowler in there. “We need to call the cops.”
“Right. I’ll do that. You check things out.”
Dammit. Why does my boss have to know that I live just a few blocks down from this place?
I slide the phone back into my pocket and take a good hold on Zeus’s leash, prepping for his resistance. I can’t believe I’m even heading that way without proper backup, but I can’t have people in there breaking windows and spray-painting walls when we close at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow.
These assholes will not ruin this for me.
My hightop boots thump the ground as we hurry across the concrete sidewalk to the corner. Thank goodness I wasn’t dressed for closing today. Rushing in high heels and a power suit is not easy.
Zeus growls when we near the bricked corner of the bank, pulling back on the leash. It’s even more forceful than when we just walk through the intersection. He must know what’s up.
“Let’s go, Zeus. This is important.”
He follows stiffly with an irritated snort.
Around the corner, the house stands tall and dark down there at the end of the street. No one’s lived there in nearly a decade and the street lamp in front of it hasn’t burned in ages.
We turn down the street, walking faster toward the giant black beacon, but only half a storefront down, Zeus pulls back on his leash. Hard enough to jerk me back.
I lose my balance, wheeling around to face him with wide eyes.
Whatever happened to him at that house must have been awful.
He pulls back and sits his heavy behind on the concrete, ears lowered and a deep, angry rumbling in his chest.
Moving him is going to be like moving a mule out of the road.
I look back at the house, defeated.
A white light in an upstairs window catches my eye. It moves quickly, disappearing into the darkness, and the breath catches in my throat.
Someone is in there.
I give Zeus one more tug, but he pulls back, ruffling his fur up against his collar.
“Fine. Stay here,” I grumble, wrapping his leash around the nearest signpost with a quick knot and turning to run down the sidewalk.
I don’t know how long it’ll take the police to arrive, but I can at least make a lot of noise and maybe the delinquents will leave. I jog past the remaining shops, pause for a heartbeat at the next crosswalk, and skip over to the concrete walkway outside the big house.
The smell is already getting to me, but inside the dwelling, everything is dark again. The nice house next to it is dim but for one window on the far side. The den where Mrs. Abbey drinks at night. The house on the other side has a couple lights on, but I don’t know much about the Smiths. They keep to themselves.
It’s a normal, relatively safe neighborhood. People don’t break into houses here. I narrow my eyes as my gaze flits from window to window of the big, empty place, trying to find another glimpse of the strange light.
But everything is black.
I creep up the sidewalk to the front door and test it.
Still locked.
Walking around outside the windows of a house currently occupied by an uninvited stranger doesn’t seem like a good idea, but I’m already here. I should check the side door too.
I stalk around the big flower planters and the stone birdbath in the side yard. Around the back of the house, I find the old mudroom entrance standing ajar. My heart seizes in my chest, then begins to pitter-patter.
Who the hell could be in here? The place is pretty much empty. A few potted plants sit on the countertops for show. Nothing of real value.
I creep through the door and peer around. The mudroom is empty. There are no signs of a break-in on the door. Does my prowler have a key?
If Dan has lost a set of keys again and they got into the wrong hands, I’m going to let him have it tomorrow. This house is too important to be screwing things up the day before closing.
My teeth clench as I step further in, a new irritation driving me forward. I’ll just make some noise and flush this guy out.
Further in, the open kitchen connects to a dining space. There are no lights or strange people sneaking around anywhere. So far.
My pocket buzzes again, and I pull my phone free.
“The cops are on their way,” Dan says.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because there’s definitely somebody in here.”
“Are you in the house? Fuck, Esme, what are you doing?”
“Checking things out, like you asked.”
“I meant go make sure it hadn’t caught fire or there wasn’t a rave party going on or something.”
“You just said check it,” I hiss. “Besides, we don’t need some teenager in here spray-painting the walls.”
I go to the kitchen sink, open a cabinet, and slam it shut.
“What was that?” Dan asks.
“I’m going to see if I can scare this punk off.”
I slam another. Then another.
Halfway through closing the fourth, I realize someone’s parked a truck in the backyard.
“What the hell?”
“What now?” he says.
“Someone parked back here.”
I lean against the sink for a better look out the window, and what I see turns my insides to lead.
“No, wait…” I fumble for a breath. “That’s not a truck. It’s some sort of helicopter or military plane.”
“Are you sure?”
I sit back with a frown, trying to figure out why in the world anyone would be Mission Impossiblin’ it into this house. It’s empty, for crying out loud.
“It definitely has wings and…”
A large reflection moves across the window above me. I freeze with a gasp, afraid to turn around.
“What’s going on?” Dan asks.
But I’m concentrating too hard on staying still to answer.
The figure in the window is definitely a person. A big one. With something on his head. A weird hat? Wait…horns?
I spin and press back against the sink, my heart hammering in my chest.
A big, dark demonic-looking figure stands just inside the archway that leads to the family room. The pair of curved horns on top of his head nearly reaches the ceiling.
When he takes a step toward me, I scream and drop my phone. It clatters to the floor.
It’s all too much to compute at once. His dark skin and the black suit that covers him from the neck down. His wide shoulders and long legs. It’s too dark to see his face in here, but his eyes glow a sharp green that pinpoint me like a laser.
He’s nearly on me when an explosion of barking bursts through the side door. Zeus leaps into the room and the large figure falls back a step to regard the dog. Zeus looks even bigger in here, all the fur on his back standing on end, shoulders hunched, and a ferocious growl jumping out at us. His eyes dart at me once before he charges at the stranger.
The figure slips a handheld instrument from his black suit and holds it out in front of him. A red light flashes and Zeus’s eyes roll back as his body goes slack and crumples to the floor like a rag doll.
I scream when he hits the ground and lies motionless, then jerk my gaze back up to the stranger. He places his weapon back in his suit and steps toward me again.
With a hoarse cry, I throw my arms up in front of my face. One of his hands clamps over my wrist and he drags me away from the sink. My fingers pull free from the counter’s edge as if I have no grip at all. He’s so strong. I try to pull back, as determined as Zeus had been with me earlier, but it’s useless. He drags me through the kitchen as if I’m nothing but a child.
“What are you doing?” I screech. “Let me go!”
He doesn’t turn back to acknowledge my distress. Just continues on his way, kneeling to slide an arm under Zeus and hoist him up.
“You leave him alone,” I growl, twisting against the guy’s strong grip.
There’s no way I’m goin
g to watch this freak do anything else to Zeus’s body.
I kick at the figure’s legs as he walks me through the mudroom and out into the yard. I lock my legs and haul back on his grip, but it still does nothing. I’ve never felt so helpless.
We’re clear across the yard when I realize where we’re going.
The plane is much bigger than it looked from the house, and I’m totally not ready when he opens its hatch. A blue light zips along a square seam before the door slides silently open.
A new wave of unease hits me and my stomach cramps hard as pieces of information fall into place.
This is not a plane. And this guy’s not a demon.
He’s an alien.
Chapter 2
I lunge in an attempt to land kicks higher up on the alien’s leg. The meatier part not protected by a thick black boot. But the dude just holds me up higher and away from his body. He must have long arms because I have a hard time connecting any of my shots.
But I have to find a way to get him to drop me before the door closes.
I’m aboard a spaceship. With an alien. That can’t be good news.
Is the smell in this godawful house finally getting to me? Am I hallucinating?
“What the hell is this?” I scream, jerking in all directions in an attempt to wiggle free.
The alien walks up a short ramp into a large open room. It’s gray and dim, with lines of lights on the ceiling and grated floors. A long cushioned bench seat with strap-in harnesses lines the far wall. A round table covered with what looks like junk sits in one corner. The walls are covered with piping, dials, and small orange lights.
The stranger sets Zeus on the floor by the wall and stalks down a hallway leading off one end of the room, pulling me along. We turn into a small room off the corridor, more dim lighting with pipes and lights running over the walls. In the center of the room is a dark, dingy chair bolted into the floor. It looks like it belongs in a hipster sci-fi hair salon, if the place was dirty and run down.
