Her Alien Masters (Captives of Pra'kir Book 3)

by Renee Rose

  Damn, would that thing even fit inside her?

  “I’m due at court today. Gav’n and I are juggling our time with you until you settle in.” He stepped into the bathroom, and the sound of running water reached her.

  He seemed to be in a rush. A curl of warmth threaded through her chest. Had he actually laid there afraid to wake her? Possibly making himself late?

  When had anyone in her life been so thoughtful? Certainly her four perfect older sisters had never been quiet while she’d slept. Her roommates in college hadn’t. Her boyfriends never cared. A little thing, but it touched her deeply.

  Gav’n peeked in the door. He wore a crisp hunter-green uniform marked with crossed swords. It must be his police uniform. What did his job entail? She needed to learn as much as she could about her new situation, to figure out how to make life bearable. Finding and contacting her shipmates was at the top of her list.

  “You’re finally awake!” Gav’n said. “Come and have some breakfast. I have to talk to you about the way things are going to go today.”

  She slid out of bed, shivering at the loss of the warm covers and the lingering remains of Jakk’s body heat.

  “I’ll turn the heat up. Gav’n, ever attentive, crooked a finger at her. “I’ll turn the heat up. Better yet, I’ll show you where the controls are so you can adjust it the way you want. Come here.” She followed him into the hall, and he lifted a flap in the wall. Behind it glowed a basic digital control panel. The only problem was the markings were all in their language, which she couldn’t read. The translator shot they’d given her allowed her to understand their language but didn’t work on written words.

  “This is the temperature.” He pointed at the third control down. She memorized its location. He punched it several times. “This is hotter.” He held it down until a different word flashed. “This is colder.” She memorized the markings for hot and cold.

  “Got it.”

  He grinned at her. “You’re quick, little bird. Let’s go downstairs. We’re going to introduce a new food this morning.” He jogged down the steps, and she followed.

  On the table sat a bowl of the same beige grain they’d served her in prison.

  She stopped in her tracks. “Oh no.” She shook her head. “No way. I’m not eating that.”

  Gav’n watched her, face impassive. He was silent a moment. When he drew a breath, she steeled herself for a threat. “Mira, would you like to try that again? I take it you’ve had this cereal, and it didn’t agree with you?”

  She nibbled her lip, already understanding what he wanted. “Yes, Master.”

  “So, how should you speak to me when you tell me that?”

  Her face burned. She hated being scolded like a child, almost as much as she hated being wrong. “Respectfully. I’m sorry, Master.”

  “Try it again.”

  Pride warred with common sense. Part of her wanted to rebel, simply because she felt humiliated at being corrected. The other part knew she’d been peevish, and he didn’t deserve it. She stared at a spot beside the cereal. “Thank you for making me breakfast, Gav’n, but I don’t think that particular food works for my stomach.”

  “Better.” He picked up the bowl of mush and dumped it down an open hole in the sink. “Come here.”

  She walked into the kitchen with him. The door that appeared to be a pantry or closet turned out to be the Pra’kirian version of a refrigerator.

  “What looks good to you?”

  She scanned the food. Nothing, really. After daily bellyaches, she was afraid to eat anything on Pra’kir.

  “Do you want to stick with the madlyne fruit again? Did that go down okay last night?”

  Her tummy growled, but this time it was more from hunger than bad digestion. She nodded. “Yes, please. Master.”

  Gav’n’s warm, rewarding smile did fluttery things to her chest. He handed her the fruit and pulled out a knife and cutting board.

  Surprising they trusted her with a knife. Not that she had any intention of trying to kill them both and escape into a busy city filled with aliens who considered her enemy number one. It might work well for picking the lock on her choker, though. She couldn’t stand the thing. It was too tight, too heavy. Plus, the very idea of the thing pissed her off. If she was family, if they trusted her enough to care for the children of the household, they had to give her a little autonomy. Well, they didn’t have to, but that’s what she wanted. She’d never liked to be micromanaged.

  Gav’n leaned a hip against the counter, folded his arms across his chest, and watched her work. Actually, she thought he might be watching her breasts, which tightened and grew heavy under his dark stare. It ought to bother her more than it did. Instead, she enjoyed the sense of power it gave her.

  These males found her desirable. Her—the plain, less-than-brilliant sister who would never do important things like win the Nobel Prize in economics or represent their planet in United Galaxy discussions.

  She lined the knife up over the fruit.

  “Other way,” Gav’n coached.

  She turned it around and sliced through, squealing when a bit of bright-red juice hit her face.

  Gav’n chuckled and leaned in, one large hand circling behind the small of her back. She spread her arms wide to keep from staining his uniform with the red juice. He pulled her into him and licked the spot of juice from her face. He smelled like cedarwood, or was it juniper? Something woodsy and masculine and wonderful. The warmth from his body radiated onto her bare skin.

  Heat flooded her core. Another flick of his tongue—this time under her earlobe.

  She drew in a breath and held it.

  Slowly, he eased back and released her. “You taste delicious, little human.”

  Dizzy, she couldn’t speak for a moment. When she regained her senses, she cleared her throat and pointed the tip of the knife at the swords on his shirt. “Is that the police symbol?”

  “Military police, yes.”

  He seemed too laid-back to be a police commissioner. But, no, the rest of it fit. He was capable and quick-moving. Quite experienced at restraining bodies, as she’d discovered the night before.

  Jakk appeared in his work clothes—a sleek suit and well-shined shoes—like the general magistrate had worn when he’d visited their cell to question them. “Gav’n’s in charge of the entire force.” A note of pride rang out in Jakk’s voice.

  “And Jakk holds one of the highest positions on Pra’kir, under the general magistrate and the Council of Nine.”

  “Impressive.” She wondered if Jakk’s important status was why he’d been given a human to foster. She finished chopping the fruit and washed her hands. “Are you both leaving?” She touched the collar around her neck.

  “I have to go into court today, but Gav’n will be here with you, except for a short interval this morning when he will have to leave you alone.” Jakk had turned stiff and formal again. It was hard to believe she’d just been snuggled up against this man.

  “Okay.” She sought a towel to dry her hands but didn’t find one. Gav’n reached past her and hit a button under one of the cabinets, and a spray of warm air rushed out. “Ah. Thanks.”

  “Be good for Gav’n. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  She resisted the urge to walk over and kiss him goodbye. The domestic scene seemed to call for something of the sort, but she didn’t know the proper protocol. Besides, she wasn’t sure they deserved her affection. Not when they had her naked and wearing a pet collar. Not after all the punishments she’d endured for not acting slave-like.

  Jakk did seem to be hesitating, though, as if waiting for something, or was reluctant to leave. He turned and walked stiffly toward the front door.

  “Have a good day,” she sang out, remembering what her parents used to say when one of them left the house.

  He stopped and turned back, a small smile curving his lips and transforming his wooden expression. It sent a spike of warmth shooting through her. “You too, pashika.”


  She smiled back before ducking her head. Damn, she shouldn’t cave so easily to the charm of these two brothers. Where was her pride? Self-respect?

  She’d clearly lost her mind—and herself—under one night of Jakk and Gav’n’s erotic handling. They’d lulled her into the belief living here in Pra’kir might work for her. But, deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. It was still a prison, just a much nicer one.

  ~.~

  It took all Gav’n’s self-control not to follow Mira into the shower and wash her beautiful body himself. But, if he did, she’d end up with her little hands pressed against the marble wall and his cock pounding her from behind until she screamed herself hoarse. And that would be against the rules.

  Although Jakk was more worried about rules than he was. He knew their little human wanted them. He’d smelled her arousal, watched her sneak glances at their bodies. He’d seen the way her nipples puckered every time she got close to one of them. Hell, she’d already begged prettily for her climaxes yesterday. Getting her to beg for their cocks shouldn’t be too hard a feat.

  But Jakk was right. The request had to come from her. If their treatment of her ever came into question, they needed to have a clear conscience on that point.

  So, instead of barging into her shower time, he lounged on top of the bedcovers, ankles crossed, hands behind his head, waiting for her to return, dewy and clean.

  He wasn’t disappointed. She emerged with a towel wrapped around her midsection, eyelashes clinging together. What about seeing a female wet made her even sexier? Her long hair fell over her shoulders, eyes bright against her rosy cheeks.

  He pulled a frown. “Drop the towel, little one. You know we want you naked during your conditioning.”

  She rolled her eyes, but he caught the movement of her swallow and the flutter of her increased pulse as she tugged off the towel.

  “Better.”

  Actually, it was divine. Her small body was like a work of art, every line graceful. One breast was slightly larger than the other, an asymmetry that only made her more perfect. He’d noticed that morning she still bore a few marks on her ass from her whipping the night before, and he had to admit he liked seeing evidence of their dominance, liked knowing she was theirs to correct.

  Of course, what he liked best was their no clothing rule. Having Mira bared to them at all times had been a stroke of pure genius—other than the resulting permanent hard-ons he and his brother sported.

  “We did, actually, order you some clothing.” He remained lounging on the bed, willing his straining cock to relax. “Not much because we weren’t sure whether it would fit.” He pointed to a storage tub stacked with a few items of clothing on the floor of the closet. “Take a look. It’s from an adolescent line, but we tried not to get anything too childish.”

  She held up a navy-blue jumper and made a face. “This isn’t childish?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll bet it will be cute on you—try it on.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Next, you’ll want a strip tease.”

  He didn’t understand the translation for strip tease, but he grinned anyway. “Don’t get sassy. I like to punish naughty humans as much as Jakk does.”

  She muttered something that sounded like, “Smug person-conceived-out-of-wedlock,” but picked up the jumper and pulled it on over her head. It only came to mid-thigh, framing her long, slender legs and giving her a sexy yet innocent appearance. She tugged at the hem, as if the dress might magically grow if she willed it to. “It’s too small.”

  Way too small. Her breasts stretched the fabric in front, which hugged her narrow waist and flared again at the hips. His cock strained against his pants. “It’s perfect.”

  She picked up a pair of panties.

  “No panties. No bras.” He patted his knee.

  She shook her head.

  “One...two…”

  She flounced over and threw herself onto his lap, lips set in a mulish line.

  He tapped them, circling her waist with his arm. “Mira, one more sign of attitude from you and you’ll get the belt. I’m losing patience.”

  She averted her gaze.

  “I have a meeting this morning. It shouldn’t take too long. You may wear clothing while I’m gone—minus the panties—but you may not leave the townhouse. The clothing will come off when I return. Understand?”

  She waited a beat before muttering, “Yes, Master.”

  “The collar will prevent you from leaving the house unless we disable the shock function. There is a safety mechanism in case of fire. The alarm will shut off the shocker. It will also track you. When the girls come, you will be responsible for taking them to and from school. If you go anywhere except the places we’ve agreed, you will be punished. Severely.”

  Her eyes darted to his then away. The first thread of concern found its way into his chest. His detective instincts told him she’d already been considering her escape.

  He gripped her chin and turned her face to his. “Mira, the people of Endermere believe you are dangerous. Jakk and I know that’s not true, but if anyone saw you alone, there’s a chance they might attack in self-defense. It’s not safe for you to be out unaccompanied. Not to mention, Jakk and I would be in trouble with the Council of Nine for not keeping you under lock and key. Monitoring your movements is as much for your safety as it is part of our responsibility as your foster family.”

  She nibbled her lip, a crease growing between her brows.

  He rubbed it with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t worry. Eventually, things will settle down. They’ll stop showing that damn clip of your crash landing, and the neighbors will get used to seeing you around and learn you’re harmless. Until then, it’s necessary to restrict your movements.”

  She sighed.

  “You’re a smart woman. You know we’re right in this.”

  “I understand your logic, yes. That doesn’t mean I like it.” She darted a quick glance at him. “Master.”

  His lips quirked into a smile, he squeezed her hip. “I love hearing you call me that.”

  Surprise flitted over her face. He stroked her cheek and leaned forward to claim her mouth.

  She stiffened at first, but he swept his tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to life. After a moment, her lips moved back with a tentative sweetness that turned his insides molten.

  “Beautiful girl,” he murmured when they broke apart. He stroked her face again. “I’m so glad you’ve come to live with us. We’ll work hard make you happy here, I promise.”

  Confusion clouded her face—hope warring with doubt, if he had to name what he saw there.

  “Give us a chance. Yield to our will. Submit to our guidance, and we’ll give you everything we have.”

  She surged to her feet, and he let her go. Stumbling, she found her way to the window and stood facing it.

  After a moment, he came to stand behind her, touching her shoulders.

  He felt her questions, her confusion, but doubted any words would answer them. Nothing he could say would soften the ache of homesickness or her loss of control over her life.

  She faced a lifetime as their prisoner. He and Jakk had the impossible task of ensuring she understood her restricted place in their society, and also ease the pain of it. Would their sexual attentions be enough to distract her?

  Somehow, with all he saw going on behind those beautiful eyes, he doubted it.

  Chapter Four

  Mira stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, craning her neck forward as she reached her arms behind her like a contortionist. She’d managed to get the lock pin to move, just a little. The damn collar was so fitted, she couldn’t even swivel it around to put the lock in the front and make it easier to pick.

  Yes, she understood why Jakk and Gav’n believed she needed to wear it. And she disagreed. So, while Gav’n was at his meeting, she was damn well going to take it off. She needed to practice removing it, so if—no, when—she managed to locate her fellow shipmates, she’d be a
ble to slip away and visit them without being traced. Not to mention any other time she needed a bit of freedom. Being held prisoner—even if the two men who thought they owned her knew how to play her body like a fine-tuned instrument—didn’t work for her.

  A little more...almost...damn.

  She shook her arms out and rolled her neck. If it took the entire time Gav’n was gone, she would figure out how to open this flipping lock.

  She threaded the narrow knife blade into the lock once more, seeking the inner pin with the tip. There. She nudged it to the right...a little more...just a bit and...success! The collar fell open, and she caught it, bringing it in front of her eyes to investigate. Even as a child, she’d always loved to take things apart and see how they worked. Her sisters had made fun of her tinkering and, when she’d declared her aspirations to become an engineer instead of something more glamorous or prestigious, had rolled their eyes and said it figured.

  Perhaps she could take the collar apart to deactivate the shock function and remove the tracker. She’d leave the tracking software on, but store it someplace at home when she left to go places. She tucked it into the rather too-small pocket of the jumper and went in search of tools.

  For the first time since their crash, she had a moment of autonomy. It felt delicious to have the freedom to investigate the townhouse on her own. She tripped down the stairs and started in the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, examining all the foreign products. From there, she tried what appeared to be an office in the room beside the girls’.

  Nothing.

  Where would tools be? Had there been a “garage” or workshop type area on the street level where they parked the shuttles? Would anyone see her if she slipped outside to look?

  No better way to find out than to try. She pulled the choker out of her pocket and dropped it onto the little bench underneath a row of hooks jammed with children’s jackets and school bags beside the front door. She put her ear to the door to listen.

  No sound of anyone.

  She slid the lock open and cracked the door, peeking out.