by Cara Bristol
But she had learned her kidnapper’s name.
Marlix, the beta had called the Commander. One of the most fearsome Alphas of Parseon. And she was held hostage in his underground bunker of a home.
Her heart adopted a panicked beat. She’d heard the whispers of brutalities. Floggings. Executions. He’d commanded a man’s lips be sewn shut. With her own eyes, she’d witnessed him kill a beta, toss him like a sack of potatoes into a tent post. And then he’d abducted her without the slightest compunction.
But she also recalled how gently he’d touched her after he’d laid her on the mat. Okay, maybe that was creepy in a stalker/kidnapper sort of way, but he had been tender. He’d summoned not one but two physicians. And covered her with his shirt.
Those actions ran contrary to what she would have expected from a male from his planet. Had he treated her differently because she was Terran? But why had he abducted her? It wasn’t like he could ransom her. She wasn’t worth anything to anybody. What did he intend to do? Rape her? Keep her as a sex slave? If he’d intended to assault her, wouldn’t he have done so already? He showed all the indications of being a man of quick action. It didn’t seem likely he would have gotten her medical treatment if he intended to hurt her.
Of course, that depended on how one defined hurt. He hadn’t hesitated to retaliate by spanking her when she’d struck him. Although it was far less severe than what he could have done, it hammered home that physically fighting him would be an ineffective way to secure her release. So after she got her crying under control, she had played possum. Feigning death warded off bear attacks, didn’t it? And Parseon males were nearly as wild. But her ploy turned out to be a futile, even dangerous strategy. If he’d believed she’d died and left her, she might have expired from her injuries without the Parseon medical intervention. She’d gathered he hadn’t thought much of the Terran physician. She didn’t either.
So what now? Would anybody figure out where she was? Ramon had witnessed her abduction but didn’t know the identity of her kidnapper. She’d sensed that both physicians were scared shitless of Marlix, and she had a feeling they wouldn’t so much as utter a peep. She would have to figure out how to escape on her own. Tara took a deep breath. She could get out of this. She’d survived worse.
From outside the room, she heard a murmur of male voices, and then a furious shout. “What?”
That didn’t sound good. Heart pounding, she rearranged her body as it had been before the males had left the room.
The door smashed against the wall. Breathe slowly. Breathe slowly. Don’t move.
“You are not unconscious,” Marlix growled.
For several seconds Tara considered continuing the ruse. He couldn’t know for sure she was awake, right? She’d fooled him up to this point. But something must have occurred in the corridor to clue him in, and her plan had been hasty from the start. The jig was up.
She cracked an eyelid.
He loomed. Right. There.
Golden eyes blazed. He towered over her from his enormous height, and, despite a vow to show no fear, she began to shake as if she’d become afflicted by some neuromuscular disorder. She wished she had the courage to tell him to fuck off, but she’d drained her well of bravado.
But she would rather die than beg for mercy. Convenient, she thought with disassociated wryness, considering the terror gripping her throat would not allow her to speak.
As he glowered at her, an emotion she might have pegged as uncertainty if he’d been any other male flashed across his face. He stepped back. “Why do you engage in pretense?” he demanded.
“I-I don’t know,” she answered. How ridiculous her ploy seemed now. She inhaled to calm herself, but under his scrutiny, the action increased her awareness of how her nipples poked against his shirt, the fabric’s texture so different from Terran material. His gaze riveted on her breasts. He’d stared in the same bold fashion in her shop—like he was attracted to her but lacked the sense to realize ogling violated good manners.
Testing her theory, she arched her back and watched as flames flared in his eyes. Okay, right hunch. Bad move. In her briefings, she’d been informed that alphas partnered with betas, using females only as breeders, although betas sometimes sought them for release. Judging from the libidinous expression on Marlix’s face, her information hadn’t nicked the surface of the truth.
After surviving a near gang rape in the Market, here she was sexually taunting an Alpha. Insanity. Tara wet her dry lips. “Why did you kid—” She broke off, decided it would be prudent to avoid using any words that might be considered inflammatory. “Why did you bring me here?”
He cocked his head and studied her. “I acted in the heat of the moment.”
“Oh.” What did that mean? “How—how long are you going to keep me?” She held her breath.
Marlix scowled. “You ask a lot of impertinent questions. Females do not address males in such a direct manner.”
“Taking me violates the Terran-Parseon Treaty Agreement.” Take that! She patted herself on the back for her audacity.
He frowned. “I am aware of that.”
But obviously the treaty did not matter to him. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. She eyed him. My God, the man was huge. In bodybuilding competitions, he would be in a class by himself. Clutching his shirt to her chest, she sat up. “Do you have to tower over me?” She peered at him.
“How am I towering? I am standing. That is all,” he said but dropped to his haunches.
Tara gulped. Okay, that did not improve the situation. Now she could smell the manly heat of his body, distinguish individual flecks of amber that made his eyes appear solid gold at a distance, see the individual bristles that shadowed his square jaw. She took in his chiseled cheekbones, full lips, and heavy brows. From a distance, his size and visage intimidated. This close? Holy mother of all that was, well, holy. Tara could not find the words to express the effect. The man served as a flawless genetic specimen of symmetry and balance, a paragon of masculinity. Handsome as all fuck.
She dropped her gaze and focused on his chest, his warm caramel skin stretching over serious pectoral muscles. His insignia pierced his right nipple. She recognized the Parseon moon within a four-point star. The points corresponded to the province he ruled. She’d memorized all the Alphas’ names and their insignia symbols. Had she bothered to count the stars in his insignia when she met him, she would have known his identity. Not that it would have altered what had happened. But she could have yelled to Ramon, It’s Marlix! It’s Marlix!
Tara realized she was staring, but since he’d leered at her chest often enough, she considered turnabout fair play. Occupied with giving him the once-over, she jumped when he grabbed a handful of her hair.
The man had some serious boundary issues.
“Your hair”—his voice rumbled in a sexual way even when he was being obnoxious—“is not naturally pink.” He rubbed the strands between his fingers.
“You think?” She glared, angry at the fluttery sensation his nearness evoked. Fear, she insisted. She flipped her head to jerk her hair from his grasp.
He drew his brows together in confusion, and though she hated herself for capitulating, she answered him. “No, my hair is not pink. It is plain brown.”
“Do any Terrans have naturally pink hair?”
“No,” she said. “Didn’t you receive any kind of briefing about Terra before the Bazaar opened?”
“There were informational meetings,” he admitted. “I did not attend most of them.”
“Why?”
“I do not approve of the alliance.” His voice hardened with vehemence, and grimness settled over his face. “Commander Dak initiated the treaty and the trade venture. He has been led astray by his interactions with your people and his own misguided nature.”
Tara blinked. Touchy subject. Note to self: avoid future discussions of Parseon-Terran relations. In defense, she clutched his warm, alluringly scented shirt to her chest. The fabric sme
lled like him, and though he knelt way too close for comfort and fierceness had contorted his expression she had the oddest urge to bury her face in the fabric—or against his chest for the full effect.
“Your people’s customs and traditions are repugnant,” he said.
What nerve! Who said such a thing to another person’s face? “Well, that’s a little rude, isn’t it?” Tara scowled.
“Rude? What is rude? I speak the truth.”
I’ll probably regret asking. “What do we do that is repugnant?”
“The way your males and females couple as if they were alphas and betas, for one. Your practice of elevating weaker, inferior members of your species does not serve your society.”
Of course she’d known what Parseon males believed. That too had been briefly mentioned in her prep sessions, which she had attended, unlike a certain Neanderthal who preferred to keep his mind locked tighter than the refuse hatch on an intergalactic shuttle. And she’d observed some of the behavior when dealing with customers at the Bazaar. But she’d never heard their ideology stated so blatantly.
If she hadn’t been naked, she would have thrown his shirt back in his face. Instead, she snuggled into it and jutted out her chin. “If females are so inferior, then why did you bother to take me?”
Marlix rose to his feet in a fluid motion. “You ask too many questions.” He stalked from the room.
Chapter Five
“I have acquired a female for the evening; do you wish to use her first?” Urazi asked as they settled at the table for the sundown repast, what smelled like a succulent and savory roast. His beta was an excellent cook, but Marlix’s appetite had deserted him.
With the tine of his utensil, Marlix poked at the food on his plate. He sighed. “I shall pass this time.” He waved the utensil. “Do as you please with her. She is all yours.”
Urazi arched his eyebrows. “As you wish.”
He and Urazi shared their lives and a secret. They preferred to seek sexual release from females instead of each other. Protocol excused Urazi’s penchant for using females, as it was expected of males of a lesser status to succumb to coarse behavior. But for alphas, a Commander no less, to seek pleasure in a female was inexcusable—unless the act derived from competition, to usurp another’s property. Breeding did not count.
Marlix had heard the whispers surrounding Commander Dak’s devotion to his breeder Omra. One could forgive a little side action, but to make such debauchery central to one’s home life? He shuddered. If nature did not permit one to enjoy release with another male, one should at least not flaunt his aberrance. When Marlix could no longer fight the temptation, he at least kept his perversions secret. And if those hurried, clandestine arrangements failed to satisfy, well, that only proved the rightness of Protocol, did it not?
“The Terran female has been here three days,” Urazi said. “How long do you intend to keep her?”
“I have not decided.” Marlix grabbed the goblet of fortified nectar and took a gulp. It burned down his throat, spreading heat into his face.
Urazi arched his eyebrow in skepticism.
“She must recover from her injuries,” Marlix offered as an explanation. The redness had receded from Tara’s wounds, her bruises had faded, and her movements suggested the stiffness had left her body. In truth, her condition had improved enough for her to return to her people.
Speculation glinted in Urazi’s eyes. “Do you intend to seek release with her?”
Guilt burned across his cheekbones. He took another drink of nectar to hide the effect. “That would violate the treaty,” Marlix said, sidestepping the question. He and Urazi used females without concern for their wishes, but they had never deliberately abused one. However, female anatomy often could not withstand the forceful rigors of the sex act without some tearing, another reason why Protocol discouraged contact except for breeding purposes. That, and because it was unnatural and perverse.
“You violated the treaty when you took her.”
Marlix had only mentioned the agreement as a diversion. “The treaty was a unilateral decision by Commander Dak. It does not hold sway over me.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Marlix waved his hand as if swatting a whisperfly. “Commander Dak is a paper feleen. He holds no power over me. Qalin and Artom would vote in my favor. I do not believe Dak would be foolish enough to reveal my act to the Terran Federation, lest he undo the amity he has worked so hard to establish.”
Urazi eyed Marlix’s full plate. “You are not hungry this evening.”
Hungry? A fierce appetite consumed him, but not for nutritional sustenance. For her. A Terran female. The sordid need had grown with every passing night. He could not bear to be in the same room with her but could not stay away, so he devised many excuses to check on her, then cursed his weakness later.
But as desire roiled within him, he had become even more convinced of the wisdom of the Protocol. How could an Alpha rule while gripped in the jaws of such lust? Such base emotion. Such weakness.
“I shame myself.” The confession burst out of him like a disgraceful emission of his essence, which he discovered on the sleep coverings each morning. “It is bad enough to want a female. But a Terran?” Marlix shook his head.
“You are too hard on yourself. You cannot be perfect.”
“I must be perfect. I am Alpha.”
“And you have been tried and tested before. This is no different. You will get through this,” Urazi said. “Perhaps you should remove the temptation by granting her freedom.”
“I cannot refute the wisdom of your suggestions,” Marlix said. He had chosen his beta well, a male of intelligence, discernment, and loyalty. Had they been able to achieve release in each other the way nature had intended, theirs would have been the perfect anointment.
“Might I also offer again the use of the female I’ve procured? Perhaps relieving the pressure will help to settle your mind.”
“I will do that,” Marlix said. Maybe if he used a Parseon female, he would be able to set the Terran one free.
* * * *
Tara shoved away her empty tray, stifling the urge to vent her frustration by flinging it at the wall. A subterranean environment devoid of natural light made it difficult to ascertain how long she’d been held hostage, but judging from the meals Urazi and Marlix had served her—three breakfasts, three lunches, and three dinners—three days had passed. She’d been hesitant to eat at first—she wouldn’t put it past a kidnapper to drug or poison her—but then hunger got the better of her, and she reasoned if Alpha had intended to harm her, he would not have bothered with getting her medical attention. So she ate and found the food delicious.
The blanket she’d been given kept her warm, but the sleeping pallets offered a slim cushion between her body and the stone floor. She supposed hostages did not receive the best accommodations. Or communication.
Marlix had not divulged how long he intended to keep her—or for what purpose. Since their last conversation, after which time he’d stormed out, he’d said very little to her. Urazi had delivered what she assumed were the morning and midday meals, but Marlix had brought her the evening ones and given her the blanket and a male’s shirt to wear. As it was dark gray, she assumed it belonged to him.
Why hadn’t the big baboon forced himself on her? He wanted her. His eyes radiated lust and tracked her every movement when he delivered her meals. Not to mention his massive woody. Either his hard-on was for her, or he suffered from recurrent priapism. Maybe he ought to call a physician for himself. She snorted.
At first, she’d maintained her distance—as much as she could when locked in a small room with him—but then she’d begun to test him. She’d lean close to him and observe how his nostrils flared or would brush against him to hear him curse. Monto, he would mutter, an epithet between a shit and a fuck in his language. Every time he jerked away, she notched her mental belt.
Yeah, she was an idiot. What kind of woman teased the kidn
apper who lusted after her and who held ultimate power in a society in which rape was not a crime?
A desperate one.
She’d decided to seduce her way to freedom. She was testing him, figuring him out, waiting for the right moment.
Having sex with him would not be a hardship. In another place and time, she’d leap at the chance to jump his bones. He was a badass bad boy. Power and sex appeal rolled into one alien man hunk. She’d gladly ride him into the sunset. Only her plan was to ride him out of his underground hideaway.
From outside the room that had become her jail, Tara heard an odd squealing. She ran to the door and pressed her ear to it. A man growled and then came another cry. She widened her eyes. A woman! Was she Parseon or Terran? Could it be she wasn’t the only hostage? Did Marlix kidnap females often? The woman cried out again, and Tara nibbled her lip, listening harder to determine if she heard pain or sexual pleasure. What were they doing to her?
Though she figured it was fruitless—she’d tried it countless times—she yanked the handle and fell on her ass when the door sprang open.
Bug out! She leaped to her feet. Oh-Great-High-and-Mighty-My-Word-Is-Law Alpha had allowed security to lapse. Or had he set a trap? Could he be testing her? Tara peeked into the corridor. Moans and groans, feminine and masculine, originated from the end of the hall.
Guilt at her selfishness weighted her steps as she tiptoed, reversing the path Marlix had taken the day he’d brought her here. Her conscience hammered on her for ignoring the plight of that poor woman, who could be in the same position she was.
Another cry pierced the silence.
No, a worse position. But logic insisted she help herself first. Once free, she would report Marlix to the Terran Embassy and bring the full wrath of the Terran Federation down upon his ass. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be something!
Tara crept across what appeared to be a living room with Alpha-sized sofas and chairs. Her bare feet padded soundlessly on the cold stone floor—or maybe the deafening roar of her heart masked the footfalls.
