by Ava Ross
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As head of his Vikir clan’s warrior school, Wulf is scarred and unrefined, the exact opposite of his sweet female mate who speaks in a sophisticated manner and loves books. When she insists she wants to return to Earth, he decides to show her what she’ll be missing, even if he can only do this in a rough and bumbling way. But with jungle creatures hunting them, their biggest challenge will be escaping the planet.
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If you’d like to read the first chapter,
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Chapter One
Taylor
Taylor was going to kill the four-armed, blue alien jerk poking her in the spine.
“Go, you,” he grunted, gouging her with his Taser stick.
As she stumbled down the hallway, she shoved her hair off her face and peered around, taking in the smooth metal walls and tiled floor that hummed beneath her feet. The ambiance reminded her of when she’d boarded the star cruiser that would take her from Earth to Crakair. The one blue-skinned alien guys had boarded to kidnap her and her two friends. “Are we on some sort of space ship?”
“Talk, do not.”
Another jab of his stick made her breath woof out.
If he did it again, she was going to spin on her high heel and smack him. Some people might think librarians were serene and gentle, that they did all they could to avoid confrontation, but they hadn’t met Taylor. Yes, she came across calm and proper on the outside, but inside, she simmered, waiting for the right moment to boil over.
They passed a series of windows, and she slowed to look out. Forget her earlier idea. Long metal posts extended from the craft and small, round, pods that could be ships or satellite stations, hung in space. This wasn’t a spaceship; it was a space station.
About a week ago, and this was only a guess on her part based on when the aliens brought food, she’d woken inside a small room, strapped to a table.
An evil blue alien with big needles had poked and prodded her, thankfully knocking her out for most of it. Jokes about alien probes were the laugh of the party until reality set in and creepy blue guys gouged at your skin with sharp objects.
They’d released her restraints periodically so she could take care of business in the bucket sitting in one corner, only to tie her to the table for the rest of the time, as if they worried she’d escape. Truly, she would have bailed all the way to Earth if she could hijack a shuttle.
A few moments ago, she’d woken to find this particular blue-skinned guy standing beside her stretcher, feverishly ripping at the bindings keeping her ankles pinned to the table. She’d thought—for all of about ten seconds—he was freeing her. Until he’d latched onto her arm and yanked her off the thin mattress so quickly, she’d tumbled onto the floor.
Sitting on her butt with her back pressed against the stretcher, she’d braced her aching elbow against her belly. “Fuck off, asshole.”
“Up, you get.” He’d kicked her in the thigh. “No hole of ass. No fuck.”
That was reassuring.
Hauling her up off the floor, he’d half dragged her out into the hall, and when he’d brandished the taser stick in her face, she’d decided to do what he asked.
For now. But just watch out, jerk. One distracted moment, and she’d attack.
A few tears leaked from her eyes, but she sniffed and ignored them. Studies showed people cried when they were subjected to tense situations. Being kidnapped, knocked out by a lightning stick, poked and prodded for who knows what nefarious purpose, and then tied up each night was enough to make a girl weep. She’d earned these tears.
“Go. Quiet, you be,” he said, driving her away from the windows.
“Why are you talking like that?” she asked, her heels click-click-clicking down the hall. As she moved, she cursed the shoes she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped. That would teach her not to insist on wearing a tee, comfy lounge pants, and sneakers instead of the hot-pink juglier dress her protocol droid had insisted on. The stupid gown was snug from the waist down to her calves, making it impossible to run. And the loose, floaty top kept drooping forward, threatening to show off the fact she’d gone braless.
“Escape, we do,” he said as if making friendly conversation. That idea was negated faster than she could appreciate it. “Hostage, you are. Go!” He stabbed her spine again.
With a growl, she picked up her pace, shuffling her feet along the tiled floor as fast as she could. “What do you mean by hostage?”
They reached the end of the hall, and he pushed her through a door and onto a stairwell.
“Down,” he barked, and she scurried in that direction, hoping her legs didn’t trip her up and send her tumbling.
“Talk like this, all of us do,” he said.
This wasn’t worth quizzing him about. Maybe he watched a lot of Star Wars and saw himself as Yoda.
Where was a lightsaber when she needed one? Actually, she needed Princess Leia to storm the space station and rescue her.
Instead, the hand she’d been dealt included a skinny blue guy, plus a useless dress and heels.
“Scream, you will not,” he said.
As if he could control it? If she wanted to scream, she sure as hell would. “Why do you need a hostage?”
“Yarris, I will go. Take you with, I do.”
She didn’t know where Yarris was, but the take you with part made her pause. “Why?”
“Escape, I will do.”
“Escape? From what I can tell, you’re free already,” she said over her shoulder. The lucky guy had wings and could avoid the Stairmaster workout she was now being subjected to. He floated behind her, urging her on. “What’s keeping you from getting out of here on your own?”
“Release me, they will not.”
“Ah.” Anxiety crawled through her belly on razor-sharp claws as she figured it out. “You’re going to use me as a shield so they don’t harm you during your escape attempt.”
“Go!” He thrust the black stick toward her.
She wasn’t sure she could withstand another blow like the one she’d taken the second day she was here, when she’d kicked the alien “doctor,” and he’d retaliated. Her skull pounded in sympathy, reminding her she liked her brain matter unscrambled.
If only she had taken karate instead of basket weaving at the local Y. Then she’d be able to grab the stick from his hand and show him how Earth women probed jerks.
That’s what Francis Mandreth, adventurer extraordinaire and Taylor’s favorite fictional character, did whenever she got into tough situations. She snarled and acted. Being a librarian meant Taylor got first dibs on new books before they hit the shelves, and Francis Mandreth thrillers were worth staying up late to finish. Maybe she’d take a cue from Francis and look at this as an adventure. Easy to say when Francis toured the pyramids, stumbling over mummies with a hot guy at her side, while Taylor got…
Blue guy.
They exited the stairwell, out into yet another hallway. At the alien’s urging, she rushed through the corridor and turned left at an intersection. Taylor went as fast as her skirt would allow, but she was winded. Okay, she was wheezing. So what if she enjoyed sitting more than running around the library? Somebody had to man—woman—the front desk, and after the University made budget cuts, she couldn’t hire a work study student to do the job.
She struggled to keep ahead of the alien. Some shield she was. She wanted to protest, tell him to slow the H-E double hockey sticks down, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t listen.
Partway down a final hall, he dragged her into an alcove. A few beeps on a panel, and a door whooshed open. He shoved her inside and followed. After the door had closed, air puffed in around them. Another door opened, and when she stepped out of the tiny antechamber, Taylor found herself in what looked like a taxi station for alien spaceships.
“One that there,” the blue guy said, pushing her toward a ship.
While she scurried in that direction, he flew toward a bank of computers and
pushed a bunch of buttons.
With a whoosh, a panel lifted on the side of the shiny blue-silver capsule at the front of the line.
“In,” he said, flying back over to her.
“We haven’t seen anyone,” she said. “You don’t need a hostage. Let me go!” She could find a place to hide and then look for her friends. Were they on the space station, too?
“Shoot, they will,” he said, poking her spine. “Die, I will not.”
“Do you really think they’ll care one way or the other about me?”
Wait. Whoever ran this space station would shoot at them? Her belly flipped. She was going to be blasted from the sky. Why, oh why, had she let her mom talk her into applying for the Extraterrestrial Matchmaker Service?
Oh, yeah. Babies. Taylor wanted lots of babies.
The alien dragged her through the door, and as it closed and latched behind them with a dull thud, he took her down a hall to a tiny room on the end with a big window, a panel with a bunch of dials, and two big chairs.
“Sit,” he said, shoving her down onto a hard metal seat. He dragged straps from behind her and bound her in place in four-point restraints, then did something behind her with the bindings.
“What are you doing?” she asked, cricking her neck around.
“Make sure no leave you do.”
“You’re tying me to the chair?”
“No escape.” Peering up at her, he sneered. “Never escape.”
“Where do you think I’m going to go, asshole? We’re in space.”
He frowned before he shook his head and straightened. “One cannot hole in ass be.”
“Suits you, buddy.” She struggled against the bindings, but he’d pinned her too well.
He rounded her chair and sat in the other, where he strapped himself in. Leaning forward, he pressed some buttons on the console. The vehicle trembled and then shifted ahead with a few jerks.
“Maybe you should hire a driver?” she said.
He ignored her.
“Where are you taking me?” she half-shrieked. So much for mimicking brave Francis Mandreth. She’d reverted back to plain old librarian Taylor already.
“Noisy, you are.”
He hadn’t seen anything yet. “Irritating, you are. Tell me where you’re taking me.”
The vehicle moved forward, and a hole opened in the wall ahead, revealing stars and endless black space.
The alien pointed to the hole. “To Yarris we go.”
“You mentioned that before. Where is Yarris?”
“Home new yours.”
Home? She didn’t like this. Not one bit. “Take me back to the Crakairian star cruiser, and I’ll make sure they reward you.” Perhaps. They’d pay a ransom to free her, wouldn’t they?
Wulf would. Maybe. Damn, she hoped so. But how could she know? She hadn’t met him yet. He might find it easy to forget her.
“Yarris, go we. No star cruiser.”
“I don’t want to go to Yarris.”
He scowled before returning his attention to his driving, which was a good thing. He had a lead foot, and he was touchy with the wheel. Sadly, in this way, Taylor was also not like Francis. Bile churned in her belly as motion sickness took hold. Vomiting would not make this situation better. It they lost gravity, it would float around the cabin.
With a whine of the engines, the vehicle shot out through the hole, the end of one wing banging against the side of the opening. The alien maneuvered the craft around and pointed it toward a distant planet that looked nothing like Earth. Thankfully, the vehicle leveled off and stopped jerking in all directions.
This was not the fun adventure Taylor had looked forward to when she’d signed up to be a mail-order bride.
Over a year ago, a mysterious ailment had swept through the galaxy, killing most of the women on the distant planet, Crakair, and the men on Earth. Then a ping from Crakair was picked up with an invitation to share resources. At first, the Earthlings freaked. Establish communication with an alien planet? No way! But a contingent of Crakairians arrived, including their Crown Prince, and the governments on Earth had warmed to the idea.
The Crakairians came bearing treaties and advanced technology. Security systems to protect Earth from other, unfriendly planets. As Taylor had recently discovered, there were hostile worlds out here. The Crakairians gave Earth technology that pushed them into a new future.
Then the Crakairian government proposed something astonishing. Crakairians and humans were genetically compatible; why not arrange a few marriages? That was when the Earth-to-Crakair Extraterrestrial Matchmaking Service had been born. At first, Earth women laughed. I mean, who’d want to travel to Crakair as a mail-order bride to marry a tall, green alien groom?
A few brave women volunteered and most of the matches worked out. The guys were hot, sweet, and, rumor had it, awesome lovers. This was a chance to have a marriage and family, something nearly impossible back on Earth.
Taylor had joined the most recent group. By now, she should have arrived on Crakair and met her groom, Wulf. If things worked out and she didn’t choose to return to Earth after the ten-day trial period, they would have proceeded with their relationship.
What would Wulf do now? For all she knew, he’d given up on her and ordered a new mail-order bride from Earth.
She shouldn’t feel jealous. He wasn’t hers—yet. But she did. Especially after watching the sweet video he’d sent her, where he talked about how he’d cherish her and treat her fairly. She’d read the kindness in his dark eyes. Swoon.
Deep in her heart, she’d looked forward to meeting and getting to know him. Hell, even having sex with him if they’d connected. She’d had hope for her future. So much for that idea. Her dreams had been burned to ashes.
Like it mattered now? She and her alien kidnapper were barreling toward a planet Earthlings had never heard of. She’d die there.
Meeting Wulf was no longer an option.
A few more tweaks on the dash by the blue guy, and the vehicle picked up speed.
When a voice crackled through the speaker, he jumped and darted a panicked glance her way. Someone spoke again, but Taylor couldn’t understand. The blue guy’s gaze met hers, and he cackled.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Shoot us, they will not.” He sagged back in the chair, settled his four arms on the armrests, and propped his heels up on the dash.
Lucky her to avoid being blasted to smithereens only to wind up stranded with a blue guy on a distant planet. “What are you going to do to me when we land?”
“Sell.”
“I’m not for sale.”
He cackled again and tweaked more dials. The ship shifted course, though still aiming for the planet below.
Yarris grew bigger and bigger until it filled the entire window in front of them.
She didn’t know what to do. At the library, she’d ruled. When she’d asked someone—politely—to do something, they’d done it. If someone was loud or rude, she would ask them to leave and they’d march out the front door.
That life had not prepared her for this moment, and the realization burned through her like her grannie’s hot sauce. Sure, with her friends, Taylor was bold. Much to chatty, actually, if she was being honest with herself. But inside, Taylor was still the shy girl on the school bus who’d been too afraid to say a peep because that might draw the attention of bullies.
For the first time since the aliens attacked the ship and kidnapped her, she was truly frightened. Over the past week, she’d survived on adrenaline, fear, and bravado, the trademarks that made her a solid librarian. Throughout the past week, she’d maintained a scrap of hope she’d be rescued.
Wulf would come for her, right? He’d felt the same connection she had when they were matched.
Her chest ached, and she rubbed it, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Because…
No one was ever going to find her on Yarris.
How could they? It wasn’t as if she could leave a bread
crumb trail behind in the stars.
Her lower lip trembled, but she bit back her tears, refusing to let them fall. Fuck bravery. Fuck trying to turn herself into brave Francis Mandreth. Francis was fake, but so was Taylor.
But she hated giving the blue guy sitting beside her the satisfaction of seeing her weep.
Stiffening her spine and sniffing back her tears, she remained stoic as the ship hurtled toward Yarris and the end of her dreams.
When they entered the outer atmosphere, the shake of the ship rattled her teeth. She clutched the armrests, grateful she’d been strapped down. Otherwise, she worried she’d be projected through the windscreen. The ship bucked, a beast trying to free itself from restraints. A bang rang out, and she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. The fact that there were no dents surprised her.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice shaking as badly as her body.
“Silence!” He leaned forward and banged on the dials.
“Don’t break the ship,” Taylor said hoarsely. “You’ll mess things up and make us crash.”
“Assholed up already, it is,” he snarled. “Crash, we will.”
“What do you mean we’re going to crash?” She flicked her hand at the controls. “Drive this wreck. Land us on the planet.” To think she’d been worried about what might happen tomorrow or the next day when it appeared her life would be over in about twelve seconds.
The ship rushed closer to the planet, and the blurs of blue and green merged into a mass of green, purple, and light pink. Which was land and which was water?
“Drive, cannot do.” He lifted his hands in the air and shook them, but then flopped them onto his thighs.
“What do you mean? You grab the wheel—wherever that is, and you steer this thing. You land us on the freakin’ planet!”
