Not that he cared about their fate. The galaxy had more than enough viable planets and sentient races. They wouldn’t miss the loss of one backwards planet out in the far reaches.
But what to do about the Earthling? He raised his pistol to end the human’s life, but hesitated. What had it meant when it called him Han Solo on crack? His translator didn’t know what to make of it, and dammit, now he found himself curious.
I’ll kill it after I find out. Decided, he holstered his gun and then crouched to grab the limp body. He rolled the human onto its back and that’s when he noticed the damage done to the female. And female she certainly was with her plentiful bosom spilling from the top of a soaking rag—only two breasts, though, instead of a lush four or five. He ignored her feminine attributes as he took in her twisted leg, broken in at least three places he’d wager.
I’m surprised she didn’t scream her head off when she woke there for a moment. Probably shock kept her from noticing her injury. She’d certainly have plenty to say when she woke again—blubbering and gushing tears he couldn’t abide. For a moment, he again debated just shooting her now before he had to put up with lunatic raving, but stopped at the sight of her looking so utterly helpless. He cursed as he holstered his gun. He, the coldest killer in the known galaxies, couldn’t kill her. That’s it. I need to go on a mission before I turn into a complete frukxning softy. He’d let his contacts know he was back in business as soon as he got rid of his cargo, including one sure-to-be-annoying female.
He slid his hands under her plump frame and drew her toward him before standing with her cradled in his arms. With no effort on his part—he kept himself in impeccable shape—he carried her to the end of the walkway and the equipment lift. A short elevator ride later, he spilled onto an upper level where he kept his room and the medical chamber.
Curiosity made him peek at her while he carried her. Her skin appeared pale, extremely so and beneath its surface he could see a fragile network of veins. He would have called her unblemished but noticed her skin appeared marred by a strange line of pale dots across the bridge of her nose. That’ll decrease her value. She sported dark lashes and brows at odds with her pale colored hair that streaked from a light gold to a dark brown. Her lips, an odd blue color, were full, and through their parted seam he could see white teeth, flat edged, making him wonder if perhaps her kind were herbivores. Her body filled his arms, opulent and soft, yet not obscenely so. The wet fabric she wore molded to the round fullness of her breasts and clung to her prominent nipples.
To his disbelief, his groin tightened at the sight. Apparently, he’d waited too long between brothel visits if this pale, sodden female could incite lust, especially considering she only owned two breasts—a common trait among her kind or a genetic abnormality?
Disgusted with himself and his interest in her as a copulating partner, he dumped her onto the diagnostic table in his medical room. The repair and diagnostic unit descended from the ceiling with a whir. Tren punched in a few commands on the device and then walked away, only to return a moment later when the machine beeped.
"Stupid machine. It can heal anything, but it can’t stand wet clothes," he grumbled. He grasped the damp fabric adorning her frame and tore it in half before peeling it from her body. Womanly curves greeted him and, despite her dual mounds, he hungrily drank the sight of her in from the dark blush of her nipples to the brown thatch between her legs. His hand couldn’t help but trace the round softness of her belly with its intriguing hole in the middle. He wondered what it was for, and had to admit it made her body intriguing to behold, a fact his hardening cock agreed with.
With a curse at his lack of control, he whirled and stomped out of the chamber, letting the unit do its work. His clothes, damp and stinking of the Earth’s ocean, required changing and he proceeded to his chambers to do so. He dropped his soiled garments in the ship’s cleansing unit before dressing in a clean and dry outfit. It was as he tucked his shirt into his pants that it occurred to him he’d have to clothe the female.
Or let her run around naked, his mind whispered with a dirty chuckle. His cock twitched at the thought. Tren tightened his lips into a thin line. I am definitely visiting a brothel at my next stop.
Not owning any feminine garments, he snagged a spare shirt and pants of his. He’d pick her up some clothes in one of his docking ports. Or he’d sell her naked, whichever he thought would fetch him a better price.
Knowing the medical unit would require a few more galactic units to complete its work, he went back to the command center, the spare clothes bundles under his arm. He wanted to do more research on Earthling females and discover ways of muzzling them, because with his luck, she’d probably end up the noisy, wailing type.
And all males know the only time a woman should speak is during sex when she screams our name.
Chapter Three
Megan regained consciousness slowly, a half smile curving her lips as her vivid dream of a space buccaneer kidnapping her for seduction slowly dissipated. What an odd dream to have. She opened her eyes and blinked as she stared up at some odd machine. Lights flashed, machinery whirred and as she watched, a hole opened up and dropped a stream of goop on her.
"What the fuck?" She struggled to sit up but couldn’t, which caused a mini panic attack. Hyperventilating, she whipped her head from side to side, the only part of her she could move, looking for answers. No straps appeared on her arms, and when she lifted her head to peek she saw nothing on her legs. Yet something, an invisible force, held her prone while the machine dropped icky stuff all over her body. Most disturbing of all, she wore not a stitch of clothing. Who undressed me? And what did they do to my body?
Memory of her abduction flooded her mind and she closed her eyes with a groan. Apparently, the tall, dark pirate she vaguely remembered from her dream wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He’d brought her aboard his ship and now prepared to… She cracked an eye open. Heal her? Probe her? Tenderize her body for eating? She hoped for the first option, but wouldn’t hold her breath.
Caught like a fly on sticky tape—until she could finagle her way out—she took stock of her situation. The burning pain in her leg and ribs seemed gone, numb with drugs? Or had the machine disabled her nerve endings? Maybe to prevent me from screaming when they eat me alive? She really shouldn’t have watched that marathon of bad space movies with Cameron. Make that more like horror flicks about the different ways humans could die at alien hands.
Of her fatigue, not a trace remained; not even any soreness in her muscles from those hours of treading water. It made her wonder just how long she’d remained unconscious.
In order to keep herself from panicking as the machine marinated her skin in a variety of liquid slime, she turned her thoughts to her recollection of the alien, a twisted version of Han Solo. She wouldn’t mind taking a peek at him again to see if he was as intriguing as she recalled. Delirious with pain, she’d gotten a brief impression of height, width and piercing blue eyes. And surprise! He definitely hadn’t expected to find her on his ship.
Heat suffused her, unnatural warmth, and she craned her head as far as she could to see if the machine had set her body on fire. No flames licked at her skin, but the weird goop all over her body melted, and a moment later, the invisible force holding her let go.
Megan rolled off the table like structure and peered around. As rooms went, this one sucked big time. Decorated in plain, off-white walls with no seams, or even a door, she found herself disappointed. So far, this space ship definitely wasn’t living up to her expectations. Megan turned back to the table, the only object around, in time to see the machine, which had gooped her, recede into the ceiling.
Great. Now, the room appeared even more barren. With nothing to intrigue her, and refusing to give in to panic—yet—she took a moment to take stock of herself, running her hands over her body, seeking any trace of soreness or abrasions. However, not only did she feel great, but she appeared better than new. Seriously. Whatev
er the machine had done, it not only healed her injuries, but also took care of other imperfections, too. The scar from her emergency appendix surgery? Gone, along with the one on her knee from when she’d scraped it bad in her teens riding a bike, and that spot on her shin she liked to nick when shaving. Now if only it could have tightened my ass and tits up, too. While she didn’t mind their size, the jiggle when she ran was distracting.
Whole in body, unsure of her spirit, and with more questions than a cop, she prowled around the edges of the room, running her hands along the surface looking for a seam or something to press that would allow her to exit. She also really wished she could find something to wear. Somehow encountering alien life while in the buff didn’t seem like it would put her at an advantage, so when she heard a whisper of sound behind her, she whirled while slapping one hand over her crotch and flinging the other across her boobs.
Given her generous size, that didn’t accomplish much other than make her alien kidnapper open his eyes wide before laughing, an apparently universal sound.
"I fail to see the humor," she growled through gritted teeth. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you turn around, or even better, run along to fetch me some clothes."
That shut him up even if he remained facing her. "Xfinew fika gdolpa?" He spoke to her in a guttural tongue that sent shivers dancing along her skin.
She ignored how his voice affected her and concentrated on the fact she didn’t understand a damned thing he said. "I don’t know what the hell you just said, so do you want to try again in English instead of whatever alien language you’re using." She tapped a bare foot as she glared at him imperiously—naked or not, she refused to show fear even if inside, she quivered at the situation.
He snarled some foreign words before throwing something at her and stalking out of the room. Fabric hit her as she watched in stunned amazement how the previously unseen door just slid across the opening, leaving the wall seamless again.
Unsure of when the annoyed alien freak would return, she scrambled to get into the clothes, his she surmised judging by the size and style: a white tunic shirt that hung to her knees and pants that hugged her rounded ass but went well past her ankle. She sat down and rolled the bottoms until her feet peeked out. As attire went, she was well covered if braless.
As she waited for the Martian to return, her mind took the time to dissect his appearance properly. First, immense didn’t begin to describe him. The man had to tower over her by at least a foot or more, and at five foot eight, she wasn’t some dainty little flower. And talk about wide. Holy freaking chest. She had only to look down at the shirt that draped her body to swallow in awe at the width of his torso. Big from muscle or fat? Or does he have like alien parts hidden under there?
She couldn’t deny a curiosity to find out. Ignoring his body for a minute, she thought on his face and the color of his skin. Purple, he’s freaking purple. Not a light pansy violet, but a deep rich mauve that made his almost opaque blue eyes pop. His dark hair, with its slight wave, hung almost to his shoulders, the color matching the neatly trimmed goatee on his square chin. He wore a silver ring in one nostril and another in his arched brow. His lips appeared black, but his teeth gleamed brightly—and pointed. Definitely a carnivore with chompers like that. And when he spoke in that strange gibberish, he’d rumbled low and sexy, a gruff voice to go with his tough ass look. She vaguely recalled calling him Han Solo on crack, but she revised that to Johnny Depp in his pirate role commuted to space. Dark, dangerous, and wickedly hot looking. Given his alien characteristics, she had to wonder just what other surprises he hid other than his skin color and teeth, like maybe a forked dick or acidic jizz. She slapped a hand over her mouth before she could giggle aloud, not sure if he or some other E.T. watched her from some hidden camera.
Good looks aside, she wasn’t here on an intergalactic cruise to pick up sexy aliens—even if she couldn’t deny curiosity. She’d narrowly escaped her last lover, and now that she had a second chance at life, she needed to swear off men—even hot space ones—for a while. A long while. Hell, maybe I’ll check out what it’s like on the other side. Maybe I’d have better luck with another woman. The idea didn’t enthuse her.
With no warning, the wall slid open again and her dark pirate stepped in, his clear eyes glittering. He tossed something small at her and she lifted her hands to catch it—and missed. She’d never excelled at sports, outside the bedroom that was. Naked, she could keep up with any skinny bitch.
The little black object clattered to the floor and she heard an exasperated sigh. "Well, excuse me for not being Miss Agile. You try getting almost drowned by your boyfriend, sucked into some spaceship by a tractor beam, and then having some weird machine experiment on you. I guarantee your reflexes would suck, too."
He didn’t reply, just crossed his arms across his massive chest and inclined his head at the object on the floor. She stooped to pick it up and turned it in her hand, not recognizing the item at all. "What is it?"
Another sigh sounded followed by movement. She flicked her gaze at him and sucked in a breath as she discovered him coming at her, almost seven feet of bristling, purple alien pirate. In a disgustingly girly reaction, she backed up. He growled, and in reflex, she growled back. Her response made his brows shoot up. She couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face as she threw him off balance.
In a lightning quick move, his hand shot out toward her and she squeaked before she dashed behind the table she’d woken up on.
"Don’t come near me," she yelled. "You—you giant, purple weirdo."
"Kddwol sgewo." He spoke gibberish again and motioned her forward with his hand.
She snorted. Not likely. He snarled, baring his pointed teeth. With nothing to protect herself, she threw the black thing at him. He caught it with a blurring movement of his hand and she gulped. He displayed remarkable reflexes. He moved around the table, and she shuffled her feet, keeping herself away.
It wasn’t like her to act so cowardly, but truly, the guy—if an alien could be called a guy—was freaking huge, and he didn’t look happy. She screamed when he leapt over the table and snagged an arm around her waist. She continued to shriek and thrash as he whirled her around. He yanked her back into his hard chest, his one arm an immovable anchor around her waist. His other hand fiddled at her ear, and she screamed. "Let go of me you freakish brute."
"Would you shut up, you annoying female, before I give into my first impulse to kill you."
As his words penetrated her panic, she stilled, her chest heaving. "I understood you," she whispered.
"Of course you did, silly human. If you hadn’t panicked, like your kind are wont to do, I would have shown you how to insert the translator yourself."
"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?" she snapped back. "It’s not like I’ve ever met an alien before. In my world, we don’t shove things in people’s ears when we meet them for the first time."
"Yes, I am well aware of your planet’s barbarian status," he retorted with a disgusted snort.
"What?" she sputtered. "Look who’s calling the kettle black. I’d say you aren’t that far from caveman status yourself."
"I knew I should have killed you," he grumbled from behind her.
It occurred to Megan that perhaps she should shut up for a moment before he acted on his words. The silence, though, made her aware of where she stood, more against whom. Pressed against her back, the alien heated her even through the fabric separating them. The palm pressed against her stomach branded her through the thin linen shirt and held her firmly against him. She wiggled in a sudden attempt to get away, but this served only to have him bring her closer and her eyes widened as she felt something poking her in the back. That better not be what I think it is.
Instead of smartly shutting up, she took in a breath. "Oh, no fucking way. If you think I’m going to service you sexually, you are out of your mind. I don’t bang guys I don’t know, and that goes double for aliens. I don’t care if y
ou accidentally rescued me—"
He thrust her from him and snorted. "You think highly of yourself, female, if you think I would stoop to copulating with your pale form. Your mouth alone is enough to shrivel any man’s cock."
Megan whirled and planted her hands on her hip. "Pale? I’m the one with some normal color here instead of freaking purple. And I’ll have you know, my mouth has never received any complaints; on the contrary, my oral techniques are well known among my lovers." When his lips twitched into a partial grin, she grasped what she’d said and red heat rose up her neck to color her cheeks. However, she didn’t cower or run. She stood straighter and faced him with a glare.
"Thank you for advising me of your aptitude. I shall be sure to add it to your list of skills when I auction you off at the first available port."
And with those words, he whirled on his heel and began walking away.
Auction? Oh, hell no. She steeled herself for battle and took off after him.
* * *
Tren bristled with anger, not at the Earthling who’d amused him with her brave posturing and inane chattering, but at himself for his interest in finding out just how good her oral skills were. He had no interest in the barbarian creature. Although, shoving his cock into her chatterbox would at least muffle the sound of her complaining for a while, something his turgid shaft urged him to try.
And there lay another issue—his attraction to her. It didn’t help she’d gone from drowned, wretched looking sea creature to feisty and surprisingly attractive female. Dry, her hair was streaked yellow and brown in a strangely attractive manner and curled slightly. Her backside, which he’d not noticed previously, was round and inviting. As for her two breasted shape, he enjoyed the way her round breasts filled out the fabric of his shirt and how her nipples protruded through the fabric, begging for a mouth to suck them.
No. We do not play with the merchandise. Wait, that applied to virgin stock. From the way this one spoke, she was far from that state. Although, she might end up as frozen food if she keeps haranguing me. She followed close on his heels as he strode away in an attempt to escape her tirade.
Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart Page 15
