by Lynn Best
She met his gaze, still trembling. God, he was handsome. Steal-her-breath handsome. She could barely look at him without once again questioning her sanity. He had bright blue eyes framed by dark brown lashes. And his physique was perfect. He could model on any men’s magazine cover. He was wearing all white—loose white pants and a white T-shirt that fit him perfectly. Surprisingly, his feet were bare.
What the hell was he doing here?
“Miss, are you all right? Do you need medical attention?” he repeated.
“I’ve obviously hurt my head,” she muttered, still staring at him. Surprisingly, the all-consuming fear she’d felt had vanished, but the adrenaline crash was setting in. She shook violently.
Concerned, he started examining her head. His hands gently worked through her hair, searching for injuries. “I do not see any wounds. Where does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, cautiously trying to sit up. “But I’m hallucinating. I mean… look at you.” She gestured to his amazing body.
His eyes narrowed. “I do not understand.”
She laughed hysterically, feeling like a crazy woman. “I hit my head on the porch steps. All of this is a dream. Or I’m crazy. Cucko in the coconuts. Either way.” She slapped her hands down on her thighs, the bare skin reminding her she was nearly naked. Instinct made her cover her breasts with one hand.
He watched her with no expression on his face and that made her blush. Being nearly naked in front of a hallucination, no matter how attractive, still made her squeamish.
Reaching up, he drew off his shirt, revealing abs that could only be described as a ten-pack. She felt herself flush again.
“Here,” he said, handing her the T-shirt. “Until I can get you something more suitable.”
Reaching out, she took the offered garment. It was still warm to the touch. A surprisingly real detail for a hallucination. And she could smell him in it, the scent of something masculine and clean, like an expensive cologne.
Suddenly, she began to doubt her hallucination theory.
Pulling the shirt on as quickly as she could while keeping her breasts covered, she stood up and took a step back from the shirtless man.
“What is happening?” she asked, suspicion making her voice hard.
He made a series of faces as if working out the best way to tell her. “It is difficult to explain.”
“You think?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is this for real?”
He nodded slowly. “You are not dreaming or hallucinating. This is quite real.”
She looked at him skeptically. “That’s what a hallucination would say. Ah-ha.” She pointed at him like she had caught him in a lie.
He shook his head. “Let me show you what is going on.” He strode to the wall, and pressed his hand to it. It opened for him, revealing the same hallway. Then he turned toward her, holding out his hand.
She looked at his hand and the open doorway. “Is that thing out there?”
“I promise nothing offensive will happen to you.” He offered his giant hand again.
“How can I trust you?” she asked.
“It may be that you cannot. But you do not want to be here in this cell if another of those idiots decides to come searching for a mate.”
“That’s what it was doing?” she asked, horrified.
He offered her a patient look. “I will keep you safe. I swear it.”
Realizing she had no choice, Charis started forward. Slowly, she put her small hand in his large one.
“This way,” he said, leading her down the glowing white hallway.
CHAPTER THREE
Charis didn’t care what the handsome man said—this had to be a hallucination.
As they walked down the white hallway, her eyes roved for clues as to what could be going on. The space they were in had no seams, no discernible walls, and no floor. They were walking inside an oval tube made from a hard but semi-flexible material. At least that’s what it felt when she skimmed a hand along it. Strangely, the surface seemed to react when she touched it, bowing in and shivering. She immediately drew her hand back, shocked and scared.
There were no markers, no signs. The light all around them emanated from the walls themselves, glowing like they were luminescent.
But what really put her over the edge was that her body was pretty sure that whatever she was in, a ship or pod or whatever, it wasn’t stationary. Her stomach kept lurching like that one time she went on a cruise with her parents in ninth grade. Were they moving? And if so, where to?
“Excuse me, um, mister,” she said to the man beside her. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
He turned to face her, his eyes taking in her expression and seeming to calculate her mood. It was like he was a therapist, that was how intensely he was looking at her. When he finally stopped, she knew she was blushing. “My name is Bram.”
“Okay, Bram. Would you mind telling me where the hell I am?”
“Judging from your elevated pulse and dilated pupils, it is clear you are agitated. This is to be expected. But I assure you, no harm will come to you. I am here to make sure of that. And to take you to our leader. He will answer all your questions posthaste.”
“Posthaste? Yeah, great. Thanks, Dr. Phil, but you didn’t answer my question.” Christ, he talked like he was an automated phone operator, not a human being. She shook her head and tried again. “I don’t want to go to your leader. I want to go home. Can’t I just go home?”
He studied her face again, but answered more quickly this time. “It is up to His Eminence to decide if you may return.” With that, he turned and started forward again.
“His Eminence?” Shit. She wasn’t getting anywhere with Data over here, and she clearly wasn’t waking up anytime soon, so she’d better just follow him. She didn’t want to run into that monster again, that was for sure.
They walked for a while down a curving tunnel, seeing no one and nothing. With no turns and no windows, she had no idea how far they had come or if they’d even gone anywhere at all. For all she could tell, they were going in a circle. But then, the handsome man stopped and pressed his hand to the silly putty wall. For a moment, the light intensified and then the surface was dissolving, revealing a room on the other side.
Fear and curiosity spiked as Charis watched the space come into view.
On the other side was a much taller, wider space. The walls were still white, curved, and pulsing; the ceiling soared higher than three stories. This space had more contours than the hallways or the cell she woke up in. There were shapes jutting out of the floor—white benches, white chairs, white ledges, and waist-height consoles that glowed with multi-colored lights. And on the far wall was a huge window, looking out into a vast cosmos of stars.
Like she was in space. But that was impossible. Right? Her heart plummeted.
There were also creatures here. Her eyes counted at least a dozen, her heart beginning to pound. They looked up at her as if sensing her presence or smelling her fear. Two dozen vile red eyes zeroed in on her, their hideous heads turning in her direction.
She started to backpedal so she could bolt, when she ran smack into something very large and hard.
Another of those creatures stared down at her, his red eyes dilating, his nostrils flaring enough to blow her hair back from her face.
Her knees went weak. He was right there, right next to her. Her eyes landed on his massive claws. She smelled his scent, like an animal mixed with something sexual.
His clawed hand reached for her.
“Stand down!” Bram ran up, reaching for Charis and pulling her away from the beast. “She is here to see His Eminence. Stand down!”
Trembling, Charis was grateful, but horrified all the same. How would he protect her from the creatures? There were so many, with even more inside the room he was taking her into.
“Don’t take me in there.” She dug her heels in, her mouth dry.
“Miss, please. It is just a step f
urther,” Bram said, still walking her inside.
“What is going on?” a voice boomed.
Bram’s arms fell away from her, his posture straightening. He turned to face the booming voice.
A man stood in front of her—one who took her breath away.
He was somehow… more than handsome. Bram was typical movie-star glamorous. This man was perfect—six-foot-six or seven with broad shoulders and the kind of body anyone would agree was the pinnacle of the male physique. His face was riveting—defined cheekbones and chin, sparkling green eyes, and wavy dark blond hair. He didn’t wear any adornments or monikers on his white clothing, but she knew from how he carried himself and the look of superiority on his face that this was who Bram had been taking her to see.
His eyes fell on her, and she froze. All at once, she felt small but exposed, like he was able not just to view her body, but also to see into her somehow. She clutched the hem of Bram’s shirt, wanting to crawl into it. Or better yet, run like she’d planned before.
“Who is this?” the man said. He did not look pleased to see her.
“Your Highness, this is the woman who was brought up. Her name is Charis Henderson. She is an American. A brunette like you specified. Twenty-five years of age. Five-foot-five, one hundred and fifty pounds—”
“I’m one-forty,” Charis mumbled. “And what does any of that have to do with anything?” Next, he was going to be reading her diary from sixth grade.
The king or prince or whatever he was narrowed his eyes. “What is she doing here?” he asked Bram, seeming to indicate the control room. Even as they spoke, creatures were touching lighted surfaces and scanning patterns that appeared like they were controlling the ship.
“Han, my lord, she was picked up…” Bram stopped, darting a glance at Charis before walking over and talking in low tones. As it was, Charis could still hear him. “…as a potential mate for you. We talked about this.”
Mate? That was the second time Bram had mentioned that word.
The man looked up again, evaluating her another time. He took several long strides, clearing the space between them until he was only a few feet away. She marveled at how he towered over her; the width of his muscular arms looked impossible when he was this close. And he smelled wonderful, a scent she couldn’t place, but it was familiar and inviting.
But his eyes were cold, his expression careless. She met his gaze, trying to show she wasn’t afraid, but she wasn’t pulling it off.
“What’s your name? Charis, was it?” His deep voice boomed over her.
“Yep. Good with names, this one,” she answered in a pathetic attempt at a joke. “And you are Han the Barbarian?”
He glowered.
“Okay, tough room.” She changed tactics. “Hello, sir. I would like to go home, please.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like it here?”
She scoffed. “Well, let’s see. One of your Bigfoots… Bigfeet? …whatever, tried to rape me. Before that, I was abducted. Ripped from my world like a baby from the womb. This is not some sort of fun vacation. I’d need a massage and a glass of wine. Maybe a cute pool boy…” She let her joke trail off. It was clearly not the time.
He shot a glance at Bram. “Rape?”
Bram, who looked guilty and red-faced, held up his hands. “I came in right away and stopped it. It happened before I could process her.”
“Find out who it was,” Han snapped. Bram nodded vigorously. Then man turned his attention back to Charis. “You want to go home? You have no interest in learning new things? Seeing new… cultures?”
“New cultures? Is that what this is? I still think I’m hallucinating. You… you’re probably just a dream. I mean, otherwise, I’d have to believe in aliens. So, hallucinations it is.” Without thinking, she put her hand out and touched his chest, expecting to feel nothing. Instead, his muscles were rock hard and his heart beat beneath his T-shirt fabric and skin. There was also a warmth that began in her fingertips and coursed down her arm. Something strange and electric that flowed through her like current. It was shocking and, frankly, pleasurable.
Wide-eyed, she chanced a peek at him. He had the strangest expression on his face. It was the first time he hadn’t looked angry.
The moment was cut short when Bram cried out, “Stop!” and then those beasts were descending on her, grabbing her arms with their scaly hands and wrenching her away.
Bram rushed up, stepping between her and his master. “You must never touch His Highness unless given permission!” Flustered, he took her from the monster and pulled her to him. “Sire, I’m so sorry. I did not get time to instruct her on proper etiquette.”
But the man was already turning away toward the screen of stars. “Just… take her away. Send her back to Earth. She doesn’t wish to be here.”
“Sire,” Bram began, but the man threw up a hand, stopping him.
Grumbling, Bram began ushering her toward the wall. Charis felt stunned, catching only snippets of his words as he touched the wall and waited for it to open. “…never can get it right…doesn’t seem to like anyone.”
She turned once more, and her eyes caught the man’s. He had turned around to watch her leave, but he didn’t look angry. He looked… disappointed.
Charis stared until the wall dematerialized and then rematerialized, closing them off from the room, the beasts, and the man with the sad green eyes.
Bram pulled her along at a fast clip now, his hand on her arm to keep her moving. Still, he muttered, far more agitated than he had been before. Whatever that nonsense was about, it seemed like Bram had failed his sire again. And she was not the droid His Highness was looking for.
Somehow, that bothered her. Maybe she needed to psycho-analyze herself.
“Am I going home now?” she asked. He marched her down the pulsing white hallway, his face tight with anger.
“Yes.” He stopped, clearing his throat. “You will be taken back to the original point of extraction. You will remember nothing. I would tell you the remaining side effects, but you will not be cognizant of them. Human brains are not … what is the word I am looking for? Sturdy.”
“Sturdy? What’re you talking about?” She pulled against Bram’s grip, but he held her easily, even as he pressed his other hand to the glowing wall. The material faded. The room inside looked the same as the rest of the ship, but this time, a white pulsing chair rose from the floor. It looked like a dentist chair.
Bram wrestled her in, ignoring as she struggled against him. Kicking, swinging, she hit him over and over, but he still didn’t seem to notice. With one hand to her chest, he pinned her to the surface and pressed his other hand to the side. To her horror, thin bands of glowing white material began to wrap around her ankles and wrists, retracting and pinning her down.
Within seconds, her legs, arms, and torso were strapped down. Panicking, she thrashed her head, until another strip stretched over her forehead, locking it in place.
Heart pounding, she frantically darted her gaze around, only able to move her eyes. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Please hold still. This will take longer if you struggle.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bram began touching the surface of the chair. Charis felt it pulse beneath her.
“Stop!” she screamed, struggling as much as she could. She pulled her wrists against the restraints, straining to wriggle her feet. She thrashed her head back and forth. If struggling made it take longer, she would struggle as much as she could.
“Hold still,” Bram said, putting his hand on her head.
The chair gave another pulse. Charis’s body began to feel very warm. Dizziness took hold.
“Don’t!” she tried to yell, still fighting. But her movements were becoming sluggish. Her body felt as if she had had too much to drink. She couldn’t get it to respond to her request. Terror poured through her. This could be it. This awful whiteness could be the last thing she saw.
There was a flurry of sound on
the other side of the wall. Bram let her go, and turned toward the noise.
“What is going on?” he asked.
A deep voice rumbled in a language she didn’t understand. In her periphery, she saw one of those hideous creatures talking to Bram. It sounded upset.
“What? Oh, gods!” Bram was at her side again, frantically pressing the table.
All at once, the bonds around her ankles, wrists, and head retracted. Charis flailed, trying to sit up, but the band around her waist remained. She turned her furious gaze to Bram.
“Let me go,” she said, clawing at the strange material. It didn’t budge. When the quiet penetrated her panic, she glanced up. Bram was staring at her with a stricken expression. What was he afraid of?
“What’s going on?” she asked warily, wanting to scream.
“I just… Oh, gods,” Bram answered, staring at her in disbelief.
“What is it, you idiot?” she said, anger flooding her again. “Let me go.”
“You have to understand something. This has never happened.” Bram put his hand over his mouth.
“What hasn’t? A girl fighting you? Calling you a dickwad? Because you are. Let me up.”
“Miss, please. It’s my sire, my prince. He… formed a bond with you. Whatever you feel, he feels. When I started the mind sweep, he collapsed.” Bram stopped, covering his mouth with his hand again as if realizing he almost killed his lord.
But Charis shook her head, rolling her eyes. “He feels my feelings? That’s not possible.”
“I tell you, it is very possible.” He turned his attention away from her, tapping the surface beside the chair. “How could this have happened?” Bram whirled back to her. “You touched him,” he spat accusatorily.
“Well, yeah. It wasn’t a big deal. You were there. I didn’t do anything.” Her head was spinning, heart pounding. All she wanted to do was sit up, but the material was still tight around her waist. She pulled at it, still struggling, while Bram paced and talked to himself.
The wall surface across from them shimmered open. The so-called prince appeared, this time staggering in and clutching the wall.
