by Emma Alisyn
Gayle shuddered, the wetness of her climax slick on her inner thighs. Ithann’s arms kept her upright. She’d always wondered what it would be like to feel that sudden hot warmth between her legs, for her clit to pulse and nearly bring her to orgasm just from the sound of a man’s voice. She had always thought it fantasy bullshit—no man could do that to a woman. But Ithann… Gayle realized the whole time she thought she’d been leading him a dance, he’d been leading her. Patient, waiting for the right time… and the right time wasn’t quite yet.
This kiss was just a taste.
“After dinner,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll play the blue princeling to please your father and then we will speak.”
“Ithann—I can’t stay here anymore.”
Passion was shunted aside. His eyes were cool again, face stone. “We need to have a talk. Be patient, be an obedient daughter.”
Her lip curled. “I’m an adult—not an obedient daughter. He has no right to keep me prisoner, even if it’s under some obscure legal code.”
Impatience flashed across his face. “Things need to be done the proper way, Gayle. Don’t dishonor your father—even if misguided his intentions are those of a warrior guarding his daughter.”
Her jaw stiffened. So, no help coming from that quarter. An acrid tinge of betrayal welled in her throat. She pulled away, pushing past him when he caught her arm, halting her. Gayle swung back around, hand clenched.
“Get your hand off me.”
“Gayle, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like trusting you?”
He stared at her a long moment, then released her. Gayle went back into the ballroom, refusing to take the words back. Refusing to allow the prickle of angry tears in her eyes to fall.
8
Gayle kept to the shadows, mentally muttering over, “We need to have a talk.” Words guaranteed to drive her crazy.
She evaded Ithann, counting on his conspicuous presence to distract from her absence. With his blue skin and royal Djinn clothing, no one would notice she was missing. But it wouldn’t be long before the dim lights failed to fool her father—or the sharp eyes of her mother, searching for a blue-gowned daughter amidst a sea of white and black. Because of the party, she could slide past security, her black skin suit and cap allowing her to blend as seamlessly as possible into the night, despite the lights shining from the mansion.
Gayle made it on foot to her pick-up point, a busy upscale refueling center with enough traffic and square footage that Mila could hang out without suspicion. Gayle met her best friend at one of the small side tables near the coffee center, and met her eyes, a tight grin on her face. Mila rose, disposed of her cup, and strolled up to Gayle, the two women turning to leave the premises for the transport idling close by.
“Any trouble?” Mila asked.
“Ithann is an ass.”
“Well, we already knew that. It doesn’t seem to bother you.”
“It was fun for a while. Not so much, anymore. We probably have two hours max before my parents realize I’m gone.”
Mila glanced at her, grimacing. “I can’t believe kidnapping you isn’t illegal. At least YETI is technically Yadeshi soil. They can’t make you come out without a lot of red tape, and by then you and Ithann…”
“I don’t think Ithann and I’ll be much of anything after this. Can you believe he wanted me to stay put and ‘do things the right way?’ What the hell does that mean? Agree to my own captivity while the big men hash out the little woman’s future between them?”
Mila patted her hand. “You just make his life hell for a few weeks is all, honey. But once you’re mated, your father can’t be your ‘benevolent protector’ anymore.”
“I’ll figure out some way to pay his ass back for this,” Gayle said. As her anger now surfaced, she could afford the luxury of not choking back her emotions. The last few weeks she’d forced herself to remain on her best behavior, do nothing to make the situation worse. If not for her self-control, her parents may not have trusted her to behave during a public event—even in their home.
“Does he know you were planning to come with us off planet?”
“I was going to tell him, but that was before the stay put and behave bullshit.”
“All right. Okay. Look, his intentions are probably good—”
“Are you on my side or not?”
“Of course, I’m on your side!” Mila glared. “But I know you—when you get mad you blow up the building and worry about it later. Don’t ruin a relationship you wanted because you found out your cute alien is a normal man with issues. Though for the record, I never thought he was cute.”
Gayle inhaled. “Fine. But if he wants me, he’ll have to figure out where to find me.”
Which happened to be off planet and in a shuttle headed for the Yadeshi home planet, Yedahn. It was a hybrid military/civilian vessel, designed to transport warriors and possible human civilian conscripts, both workers and brides. They’d manufactured it to be as functional and defensible as possible, but with some of the comforts of a leisure vessel.
Gayle and Mila strolled through the shopping level, a mini mall with small shops, eating establishments, and even a nightclub offering both human and Yadeshi music. They were told that there would be several stops before they reached Yedahn, and they would be able to see their first aliens other than Yadeshi, in person.
“You know what the occasion calls for?” Gayle asked.
Mila grinned, glancing at the bar they’d just passed. Gayle snorted. “That’s after a day in the spa. My skin is dry, your ends are split and we both need new toes.”
“I don’t think we should,” Mila said. “I know you have savings, but until we know where the exchange program is placing you…”
Gayle waved a hand. “I squirreled away enough credits to afford a treat. Besides, the information packets gave us a guarantee of a pay range. I have a budget for the next year sketched out.”
Part of the paperwork she’d spent her time in confinement sorting through was the details of her work contract. Though she wasn’t a fully trained warrior, she did have enough education credits with YETI to qualify as human labor. She had no sophisticated technical skills, but she was trained in basic bodyguarding and could pour someone’s coffee, damn it. Or work in an office. Aliens or not—their way of doing things couldn’t be all that different. Some concepts were universal. Like paperwork, and eating regularly without having to do all the cooking herself.
Mila sighed. “All right—but nothing extravagant, Gayle. I know you. You’re used to pointing and getting whatever we both want. I’m such a mooch.”
She linked an arm through Mila’s, dragging her friend towards the spa. “No, you’re my best friend.”
An attendant greeted them when they entered the spa, the establishment as subtly sophisticated as any High Tier business on Earth. The women were promptly whisked into a consultation where a Yadeshi woman in a short, iridescent, and slightly sheer dress assessed their needs and discreetly accessed their on-board credentials for payment information. When Gayle asked about the unlisted price of the various packages, the woman shrugged.
“It’s all been taken care of, An’Bdahn. Your companion as well.”
Gayle opened her mouth, then shut it, exchanging a glance with Mila. They both were familiar with how these businesses worked. And Gayle herself was accustomed to how the subtle discussions on money worked among the elite—who thought it uncouth to mention things as plebian as prices. They waited until the attendant left to arrange their services before speaking.
“That was weird,” Mila said. “I know what my credits look like, and you said yours are okay but not like crazy high or anything, but…”
“She was acting like we have carte blanche.”
“Yeah.” Mila looked the way the woman had left, expression thoughtful. “You sure your parents don’t know where you are? Maybe if they knew you’d run away, they’d make sure you had enough money to stay safe.”
<
br /> “Oh, my father will be furious.” Gayle relished the thought of his fury. She smiled, cheerful and satisfied. “He’ll cut me off. My mother might try to sneak me an allowance—I’m not going to take it, though.”
“Huh. Well, if it’s a computer error, they can’t blame us, right?”
“Absolutely.”
They were served by both human and Yadeshi attendants, a separate woman for their hands and feet and one for their skin. Mila was also given a thermal treatment and trim for her hair, adding subtle high and low lights.
“I’ll refer you to a braider on Yedahn,” the hair stylist told Gayle. “We don’t have one on board yet, though we’ve had four requests already this month.”
Gayle glanced at her, curious. The woman’s black hair was cut at her shoulders, the shortest hair she’d seen on a Yadeshi yet. “You guys do braids on Yedahn?”
“Of course. It’s a rage among the noblewomen as well. Some of the more intricate styles take days, and you can’t even sleep in them. You’ll see. The Bdakhun will love your hair.”
“I need a language primer,” Gayle said when they’d left the salon. “The translators aren’t covering some of the colloquialisms.”
Mila grimaced. “I don’t think the equipment they issue to students is exactly top shelf.”
Gayle sighed. “So, this is what it’s like to be poor, huh?”
Mila laughed and punched her in the arm. “Welcome to the real world, honey. It’s glad to have you.”
The two human women on the dance floor exuded the kind of sexual energy that drew suitors to their flame, ready to shrivel in their heat. The tall, svelte beauty with a bone structure to rival any Ngandan Bdakhun, hair a riot of color down her back, drew his attention. Of course, he focused on her, unable to look away.
And his anger chewed at his insides.
“I think I’ll go claim my female,” Jaron said as Gayle’s companion rebuffed yet another advance from a traveling warrior. “And, damn it, why are her arms covered?”
No one could see the aja’eko’s marks. All they could see was the toned, curvy body in a skin suit that left nothing to the imagination even as it covered every inch of skin.
Ithann considered Gayle. His mate thought she’d been allowed to flee him. As if he’d ever been more than a day behind her. His shuttle had just docked twelve hours earlier, and in that time, he’d had to untangle a mess of paperwork. Her father, no one’s fool, had acted quickly to block her accepted status and have her declared a stowaway—an offense that could get her thrown in a brig.
There had only been one thing he could do, and unfortunately for Gayle, they would both have to live with the consequences, whether she liked it or not. He liked it just fine, and planned to take full advantage. Starting with his tongue in her pussy while she bucked under him. Maybe he’d tie her hands down. And her ankles, splayed wide for his pleasure. Clamp her plump tits. But he’d leave out the gag—he wanted to hear her scream. Beg him for mercy. Please fuck her, please let her go. Please eat her pussy, please pound his cock inside her, over and over, not stopping until he was slick with her cum. Take her cunt, take her mouth, take her puckered asshole. All three at the same time—he was talented.
Take everything and then take some more.
Fuck. He swore silently, cock swollen and aching. Need raged and for a moment, his vision went dark. He’d half-risen from his seat before realizing it. On the verge of leaping over the table and dragging her to the floor, taking her where she stood, audience be damned. He’d rut her like a beast while they all watched. Let them watch, know she was his. Spill his seed in her, on her, rub the pheromone-rich liquid into her skin, his tattoos crawling over her body to mark her forever.
Ithann’s hands trembled with the effort to stay rational. The urge to mate, to bond, to claim, was almost stronger than he could handle. It wouldn’t be much longer before he snapped. He hoped she didn’t pay the price for his weeks of restraint.
Jaron rose from the table in the back of the bar, cloaked in darkness so the women wouldn’t see them. “You’re going to tell Gayle tonight, right?”
He was a Bdahn of Doshen House, Province Rykesha. His family had ruled the Ngandan City-State for a millennium. He didn’t have to do anything. “I believe I’ll let her enjoy a day in the brig.”
Jaron looked down at him, astonished. “Are you insane?”
It was entirely possible. Ithann finally tore his eyes away from the female he wanted nothing more than to throw over his shoulder, take to his suite, and sink his cock and fangs into, bonding her to him once and for all. As binding as paperwork could be, there was nothing more permanent than the bond.
“She needs to learn the consequences for her actions. She ran from me.”
“She ran from her father.” Jaron’s disbelief grated.
Ithann took a steadying sip of his drink, the liquid burning a trail down his throat. Another civilized, controlled sip. And then he downed the whole thing, swiping a thumb on the screen at his table for another. “She should have trusted me.”
Jaron sighed. “You think throwing her in the brig will make her turn to you when you reveal yourself? Do you want a mate who is frightened, who feels dependent on you? Or do you want a woman who can walk at your side?”
“It’s not your business.”
“Whatever, warrior. My mate is your mate’s best friend. So, suck it up—it will be my business the rest of our lives.”
Ithann watched the male leave. The effect Jaron’s human had on the doctor’s vocabulary and syntax was deplorable. Ithann scowled and downed a second drink. The swill wasn’t fit for his taste, but it would mute the rage in his loins to snatch Gayle and teach her to leave him.
But first, he had to put out word for the warriors to leave his female be or he’d meet them all in the challenge ring.
9
Gayle tumbled onto the bed. There was something about Yadeshi liquor—it didn’t make her sick, but that was about the only perk. At the beginning of the night, the males had come on hot and heavy. At some point, they stopped completely, mystifying both her and Mila. Until Jaron showed up, normally bland expression stormy, incisors flashing. He’d dragged Mila off, with a curt instruction to Gayle to accompany him so she could be seen safely to her room. Since she didn’t want to be alone in a bar with a gaggle of hungry males, she’d readily agreed.
She dozed a few minutes, rousing when her door chimed. Gayle groaned. “Go away.”
It chimed again, and this time the sound of the locking mechanism disengaging and the panel sliding open had her bolting out of her bed as steadily as she could. Two uniformed Yadeshi entered, stopping just inside the threshold.
“What the fuck?”
“Abigail Afolayan?”
“Yeah?” Thank God she’d had the intelligence to use her mother’s maiden name instead of her father’s surname.
“We are here to escort you to the brig. Please comply peacefully.”
“The… what the hell you say? The brig?” She struggled to think clearly. “Am I underage here?”
“Your authorization to leave your planet in pending revocation. You are temporarily classified as a stowaway. The penalty for—”
“Oh, Jesus, stop yammering at me. I get it.” She lowered her head in her hands, trying to think. “Did something not get filled out right? What do I need to do?”
“An immigration official will be in contact. Please comply with our order.”
“Oh, fuck. Do I get a phone call?”
The short answer was no.
Gayle stared up at the grey ceiling of her cell in disgust. Four plain grey walls, a basic cot and toilet facilities that slid out of the wall, and enough dim light to keep her from going into sensory deprivation. And that was it. Not even a book.
She’d slept the first few hours, her body unable to hold out against the stupefying effects of the drinks she and Mila had guzzled while dancing. After she dragged herself into wakefulness, she’d used the meager sa
nitation provided to clean herself up as best she could. She refused to wear the jumpsuit. It was baggy, an ugly color, and second hand. No way in hell.
Which, she supposed, was the wrong attitude to have if she was enthusiastically throwing herself into the life of a regular working girl.
Just for shits and giggles, she rose from her cot and crossed the massive six feet to the cell door and banged on it.
“Let me out of here!” she yelled, more to amuse herself than anything else. She’d seen it a few times in old movies, the verbal venting, meant to release built-up energy. No one would hear, of course. They’d be monitoring prisoners from a remote location via vid.
Gayle yelped and jumped back when the door panel slid open. Her jaw dropped when after a second, she recognized the cold, elegant man staring down at her, his black hair a polished braid draped over one broad shoulder.
Her princeling, not her Adekhan.
“Ithann… what in the hell is going on here?”
He stepped into the cell, perforce requiring her to retreat, the panel sliding shut behind him.
Gayle eyed him. “I hope you have authorization to open that thing back up.”
Gone was the snippy warrior-in-training uniform. He wasn’t even the fancy dress prince from the party. He wore all black, not quite the outfit she and Mila had seen a few higher-ranked officers wearing when they’d toured the ship.
“I don’t think black is the right color for people with shades of blue for skin.”
His expression didn’t change. “And yet, as a brown-skinned woman, I frequently see you wearing… brown.”
“It’s a stereotype that dark women can’t wear brown,” she replied, voice haughty. “It all depends on the shade and the quality of the fabric.”
“Abigail.”
He never called her by her first name. Gayle inhaled. “Is there something wrong with my paperwork? Wait—what are you even doing here?”
“That you thought you would be able to leave the planet on a vessel headed for my planet, and I wouldn’t be informed… this tells me you don’t fully understand the situation.”
