by Lynn Best
“Sire,” Bram started, but the prince moved past him, lurching right toward Charis.
She shrank back, but couldn’t go anywhere pinned to the chair. “Stay away,” she warned, balling up her fists.
But he slumped into a sitting position beside her, breathing heavily and shaking. She was surprised how such a massive form could look weak. Drained. She suddenly felt bad for him.
His eyes searched hers, zeroing in with that laser focus he had. Her heart sped up.
“You pity me,” he said. “Why?”
She shook her head, not wanting to believe he could really hear her thoughts or, rather, feel her feelings. Wait, was he feeling her right now? She tried to make her mind blank, but he was still staring at her.
“I pity you because you look… scared,” she said finally.
He continued to stare, looking at her like she was a puzzle yet to be solved. She studied him, not sure what to do. He was so undeniably gorgeous her eyes wanted to rest on his face. But then she worried he’d know that, too. She decided thinking about blood borne pathogens training for work was the safest bet.
“Sire, I must ask that you not touch her again until we find out what is going on,” Bram pompously intoned, buzzing around like a bug.
The prince stood up, still wobbly. When he grabbed the table by her head, she froze. He met her gaze one more time. “My name is Han. And you are Charis.”
“Right.” She sounded stunned, even to her own ears.
He turned to leave the room, but she called after him. “Hold on. Am I able to go home now?”
Whirling back, he shook his head. “You stay until I say you can go.”
“Can you say I can go?” she asked, almost begging.
“No.” With that, he turned, the wall closing behind him when he stormed out.
She was stuck.
Her eyes found Bram. He looked sheepish and very confused. Pinning him with a hard glare, she snapped, “One thing’s for sure, you’d better not try to erase my brain again or you’ll risk killing your prince. Oh, and I hope you have decent food because I’m starving.”
He looked away, muttering, and then punched at the smooth surface until it shimmered away. But unlike the door, which opened into the hallway, this revealed a sort of compartment a bit bigger than a breadbox. Inside was a steaming plate of food. The smell made Charis’s stomach growl.
He drew out a plate. It must have been hot, because he cursed. “I do not know what you prefer, but this should be palatable. Looks like some sort of roasted animal and vegetables.” Setting the steaming plate beside Charis, he turned back to his glowing panel.
The food looked spectacular—roast beef, mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, and zucchini. But where had it come from? The wall? Should she trust the people—aliens?—who’d just tried to brainwash her?
But she was starving, and it looked so good.
Carefully, she picked up the fork, poked it into the mound of buttery mashed potatoes, and touched it to her tongue.
Flavor filled her mouth—hints of garlic, swirls of butter. It was the creamy texture of an expertly mashed potato. Better than Mom’s. Hell, better than Grandma Henderson’s.
“Who made this?” she asked.
Bram didn’t answer.
She tasted no poison, but then again, she wouldn’t know what it would taste like if it did. Everything seemed as it should be. And with her stomach insisting she eat, Charis began to devour the food. After it was gone, she considered licking the plate clean, but managed to abstain. Barely. But if she was going to die, she would at least be satisfied with a full stomach.
Not long after she set the plate down, the wall dematerialized once more. It barely even made her blink this time. Shockingly, she was already getting used to it. A beautiful woman, blonde hair flowing to her waist, glided in. Her figure would’ve put supermodels to shame—six-foot, a slender build, and killer tits. Her face was just as beautiful—full lips, straight white teeth, and wide blue eyes framed with long black lashes. In her form-fitting white gown, which trailed along the floor behind her, she looked like a Miss Universe contestant.
Internally, Charis snorted. If they were aliens, the universe part might not even be a stretch. Not quite sure what to make of the situation, she just stared at the newcomer.
“The boss man said I should come see the new gal. Oh, hello,” the woman said when she caught sight of Charis.
“Uh, hi?” Charis tugged on Bram’s shirt, feeling self-conscious and weird. Did she have to be in her underwear beside this cover girl? Where was the dignity?
The woman swished in, bringing in the light scent of a seductive perfume. She sat on the table next to Charis, and touched the bracket at her waist with a fingertip. With a laugh, she said, “Tied up, Bram? I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing. Kinky.”
Bram scowled.
The woman looked Charis over. “She seems all right? You are all right, aren’t you…?”
“Charis,” she offered.
“Charis. Nice to meet you. I’m Brandy.” She held out a smooth pale hand.
Slowly, Charis shook, staring into her eyes. “Are you… human?”
Brandy giggled. “Of course, silly. There aren’t any female aliens.” She said this like it was common knowledge. “That’s why we’re here.”
Charis raised an eyebrow. She’d gotten As in college, thought herself to be fairly smart, but she’d somehow missed the Alien 101 class. “Can you please explain what’s going on?”
“Sure.” Brandy turned her attention to Bram. “Can my new friend and I take a little walkie? I promise to look after her.” The blonde fluttered flirty eyelashes at Bram, but he didn’t seem to notice her advances. Charis wondered if he were gay. Did they have that proclivity in alien cultures? If there were no women…
“You will be held responsible for her,” he said, tone stiff. When he touched the surface next to Charis’s restraining belt, it slid away, absorbing into the material she sat on.
“Great.” Brandy clapped her hands like a little girl. “I’ve got some things to show you. And I’ll give you the tour since you’ll be staying here.”
“Oh, I won’t be staying here,” Charis stated firmly, standing up so the chair wouldn’t trap her again.
Brandy didn’t seem to hear her, though. She swished toward the wall, and it automatically opened for her. “This way, hun.”
Charis looked between Bram and Brandy. She didn’t know the woman, but she knew Bram had attempted to erase her memories and chained her, so she speed-walked to follow the gorgeous woman down the hall.
Stranger and stranger, Charis thought. What would be behind door number three?
Brandy continued to walk, talking as she went. She was what Charis’s mother would have called a motor-mouth, pausing only to breathe and make sure Charis was listening.
“… and then I found myself on this ship, a male Cartharian trying to mate with me. Boy, was that a surprise, let me tell you.”
“A male what?” Charis nearly had to jog to keep up with the longer-legged woman.
“A male Cartharian. They’re from Carth. It’s actually something much more complicated in their language, but they’ve translated it so we can understand. Helpful, right? Don’t even get me started on trying to learn their language. I can’t even.” With that, she began to make a series of strange noises, contorting her face and tightening her neck. It was hilarious, and wildly unattractive.
Charis covered her smile with her hand, trying to be polite to her new host. “Wow, that’s…”
“That’s not even the half of it. Anyway, here’s the first thing I wanted to show you.” She pressed her hand to the smooth surface of the tunnel, and it dematerialized before her.
“How do you do that?” Charis asked, touching it to no effect.
“It detects the DNA on my hand or something. I have clearance since I’ve been here for a year.”
“A year?” Charis felt her heart restart, chest tightening
. An entire year?
But her thoughts were interrupted by what appeared. A warm humidity pulsed out, and she could hear harp music playing. A lush garden awaited them.
Brandy stepped in, encouraging Charis to do the same. Once they did, the tunnel sealed, green trees growing over the space until it was no longer visible.
How would they know how to get out? Panic started to build in Charis’s stomach.
“This is my favorite place in the whole ship,” Brandy said, smiling and waving her hand around like Vanna White on that old game show Charis’s mom liked. “Han built it for us because he cares about us.”
Han? That barbaric Neanderthal who was keeping her prisoner? Still, the beauty of the garden couldn’t be mistaken. She didn’t know plants very well, but she recognized roses, lilies, and hydrangeas. There were flowers of every color, shape, and size around the cobblestone path. Creeping vines and lush trees made a canopy overhead. And twinkle lights wrapped around branches, giving it a warm, romantic glow.
They strolled along the path, listening to the sound of the harp and the burbling of water tripping over rocks. The air was heady with different floral bouquets. Charis’s head felt almost light with it.
“Han saw one of these gardens on Earth, and he knew he had to build it for us. It’s a sanctuary. A place you can go when you’re sad or missing home.” Brandy’s voice sounded dreamy and far-off.
“Don’t you ever miss home?” Charis whispered, her eyes flitting around.
Brandy sat on a stone bench beside the tiny waterfall. “I do, sometimes. But I have it so much better here. Things were always a struggle at home. Here, I’m needed. Wanted. And I find my work very fulfilling.”
Quirking a brow, Charis wondered what she meant. How could life be hard for a beauty queen? And what, exactly, did she do here that ‘fulfilled’ her? Helping poor souls like Charis acclimate to alien abduction? Not exactly what she’d minored in at college.
“This is nice and all…” Charis started, feeling a little hysterical, “but I would really like to go home now. Is there someone you could talk to? I didn’t get very far with Bram, but if there was someone else…”
She stopped when she realized the other woman wasn’t listening. Brandy was looking at something over Charis’s shoulder. And growing more and more alarmed by the second, judging by her expression.
“My lord.” Brandy stood, face white.
Charis turned.
Striding into the room, Han pushed through vines. He looked sick—pale and shrunken—like he had a raging fever. Wild eyes roving, he locked onto Charis and made a desperate beeline for her.
Feeling like a deer in headlights, she froze, heart pounding. When he reached to grab her, she turned to run.
Fingers gripped her wrist. She felt the zap of electricity she had the first moment they’d touched, light tripping up her veins, bubbles popping in her head, and a sense of elation that was almost… erotic. She felt her breath pick up, and her body unexpectedly warmed.
But then he was yanking her back, hard. The good feeling disappeared. Her arm jarred in its socket, her head snapping to the side. She cried out, swiveling to fight. But when she saw his face, her fist stopped in midair.
He was drenched in sweat, chest heaving. Barely on his feet, he held her like a lifeline. The desperation in his eyes made him look like a drowning man. “Don’t… move,” he roared breathlessly.
His command turned her pity into pissed-off. “Stop telling me what to do. You aren’t my prince.”
His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth, looking like he was about to chastise her.
Before he could utter a sound, however, he collapsed.
CHAPTER FIVE
“My lord,” Brandy shrieked, falling to her knees beside him.
Charis stumbled back. Fear gripped her. Was he dying? But then she remembered his growl, the way he’d yanked on her arm like he wanted to rip it off. The pity evaporated, and the desire to get away grew until it was all she could think about.
So, without a backward glance, she ran.
Back down the cobblestone path, she pushed through branches and leaves. She tried to head the way she came, but there was no discernible landmarks to orient her. No pulsing white walls, no doors. Panicked, she clawed through vines, yanking them away, feeling for smooth surfaces, her hands only finding greenery wherever she went.
Behind her, voices shouted her name.
Pivoting on her heels, she ran from the voices. Stumbling through a burbling river, she jumped over a fallen log. All the while, the harp music jangled overhead, the worst kind of soundtrack for her panic. They were coming, and they were coming fast.
Breath coming in gasps, she ducked under a latticework archway, and finally found what she was searching for—a glowing white wall, smooth and vine-free. Lurching forward, she pressed her hand to it.
“Come on, come on,” she begged, looking over her shoulder. They were calling her, the sounds of people thrashing through the underbrush getting louder. But the wall didn’t move.
“Shit,” she cursed. “Come on!” She moved her hand along the surface, palm down, but nothing seemed to set off the transformation. Frustrated, she balled her fist and thumped it against the wall. “Dumb piece of crap!” She went to hit it again, but her hand sailed right through.
It was opening
She tore through it before it finished spreading apart, and continued to run.
Her bare feet slapped on the hallway surface, carrying her away from the garden room. She followed white hallway after white hallway with no way of knowing where she was going or what she was doing. Heart blasting against her ribs, she just kept taking turns, keeping away from voices and the sounds of footsteps.
Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a stampede heading her way. The chittering clued her in on what it had to be—those creepy beasts, and a lot of them. Shoving a shaky hand through her sweat-soaked hair to get it out of her eyes, she searched her surroundings. Spotting an opening in the slick tunnel, she dived in.
The wall closed behind her with a barely audible hiss.
Out of breath, back against the wall, she glanced around.
This room was entirely different than any she’d been in. For one thing, it was dim. Where everything else she’d come across since waking shone a bright white, this space was the exact opposite. The walls were as close to black as they could be with only the faintest glow of dark purple to light the area. Across from her was a giant window. If she believed what she saw, she’d say she was gazing into outer space, pinpricks of stars the only white brightness. There were surfaces, too, like the ones she seen formed out of the ground, but these were covered with soft blankets, pillows, and other coverings. And on the far wall, a fireplace—an honest-to-God fireplace—housed a crackling flames.
The faintest tinkle of acoustic music broke through the pounding of her heart. Echoing footsteps caused her head to swivel, searching for the source.
“You’re here,” a deep voice said.
Whirling toward the sound, she saw him emerge from the shadows.
A dark presence filled the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered like all the males she had encountered so far, but there was something different about him, too. Where the other men stomped around, he seemed to flow like a snake. He came fully into the light, his chest bare, and Charis sucked in a breath like she had when she’d seen the rest of them.
Never-ending abdominals should be the name of this ship, she thought.
Her eyes traveled up his tanned and chiseled body to his face. He was handsome, but in a brooding way, with hooded eyes, flashing brown irises, and a mouth quirked in a smirk. His sable hair was short, tussled like a tortured boy-band singer.
She felt her heart quicken, and her pulse kicked up. He was so damn attractive. But as his expression, the fear sprang back. His face was impassive, eyes calculating, as he studied her the way a hungry wolf might a rabbit.
And she was no damn bunny.
&n
bsp; “I sent for you hours ago.” His voice was a dark growl, black waters rumbling over rocks.
She shook her head, pressing her hand to the surface from which she’d just come, praying for it to open. But it didn’t budge. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t think you sent for me. Really, I’m just… housekeeping. Since it looks like you don’t need turn-down service, I’ll just get going.” Her sweaty palm continued to search for the way out.
He took three giant steps, putting him within reaching distance of her. His smell was intoxicating. Did all the people on this ship bathe in Christian Dior? Charis froze when he placed his hands on either side of her head.
Trapped between two beef-cake arms, she stared into his face. It was intoxicatingly handsome.
“What’s your name?”
“Charis. And you?” She stalled, trying to be polite.
“You can call me Kahn.” His eyes roved over her face, dipping lower.
Realizing she was still in Bram’s T-shirt, her panties, and nothing else, she flushed, pulling the hem further down her bare legs. He watched her, seemingly intrigued.
“Interesting outfit. I’ll be happy to help you remove it.” His hand touched her hip and slid down, trailing along the hem before slipping underneath to caresses the bare skin of her thigh.
Despite her fear, her body responded, warming at her core. Tingles radiated from her nipples outward.
What was her body doing? This… alien could kill her.
Or he could make her feel really good.
Charis shook her head. That was not the type of person she was. She, Queen Type-A, who made grocery lists and stuck to them, item for item. The type of person who organized her closet by color, size, and season. The kind who did not have casual sex with aliens!
“Why are you resisting?” Kahn moved his hand down her cheek and caressed her neck, sending tingles tripping down the skin. She pressed her thighs together and bit her lip, willing herself not to get turned on. But her betrayer body was leaning into his touch, her head tilting toward his, her eyes lidding.
He leaned in so close she could feel his breath pulse at her neck. Her heart was pounding. The wall of muscles that made up his chest skimmed against her taut breasts.
