by Shea Malloy
The Ahmenian soldiers standing guard on either side of his door bowed their heads in respect upon his arrival. Four-armed and large, the Ahmenians were terrifyingly strong and fast with their guns and their spears.
Mikaal stood still as he eyed his two guards curiously. They averted their gaze from him out of respect, maintaining their vigilant watch on their surroundings. Yes, Ahmenians were fearsome creatures and only an adversary with great power and agility could subdue them. Yet, on the night he’d discovered his vault breached, the Ahmenians standing guard at the time had laid dead on the floor with no visible wounds.
It was as if they didn’t fight. And if they didn’t fight, then their attacker was someone they knew, someone who had been cleared for them to trust within the palace.
A sense of foreboding overcame Mikaal. He’d assumed the thief was sent by Lutvian rebels, but what if the breach was planned from within the palace’s walls? He could not be certain until the investigators he’d hired had ascertained the dead thief’s identity. Even so, he would have to call on someone he trusted. More so, he would have to make sure the human never left his sight until he caught the culprit.
With a quick nod to his guards, Mikaal continued into his chambers. The familiar white, concave walls greeted him, as well as the unfamiliar sight of his bedsheets wrapped around the human woman.
“It’s about time you came back.” Her cheeks were flushed—from indignation or embarrassment, Mikaal wasn’t sure. She pointed in the direction of the bathing room. “Your demon bathroom stole my clothes!”
Mikaal approached her, his gaze travelling over her naked shoulders and arms. She curved one edge of the bedsheets around her body. But the sheets were far too large and heavy for her to cover herself entirely, so his eyes dropped to the exposed portion of one of her thighs.
He knew where his thoughts were headed but he was helpless to halt their progress. Though she was covered, it was the suggestion of her nakedness beneath the inadequate covering that stirred his arousal. There was a naked woman in his chambers. Naked and attractive. Her blue eyes glittered, her unblemished skin looked soft and smooth.
He envisioned pushing her back onto his bed, eradicating all his worries in her arms. Her warm flesh beneath his hands, he’d bury himself inside her—
“Mikaal.” Her cheeks were still flushed but her hand tightened on the sheet. Perhaps she had seen the way he looked at her. Still looked at her.
“Your clothing was not stolen, it was cleaned.” He moved toward a panel on the right wall of the door leading to the bathroom. Pressing a button, a shelf slid out presenting her clothing washed, dried and folded.
“Oh.” She made a step then paused, hastily pulling up the sheet from sliding off her front. Her face reddened. “Could you … could you bring them to me?”
Mikaal smiled. “You are not impaired, human. Come for them yourself.”
As expected, her gaze turned indignant. “You know I can’t. Don’t be an ass.”
“Insulting me will not help your cause.” He folded his arms, amused by her visible discomfort. He knew he shouldn’t but Mikaal liked how easily he could provoke her. Her indignation fuelled his amusement. He supposed it was the same reason why Suri did the same to him. If he were being honest, he also liked the way her pretty face acquired a pink glow and her blue eyes an extra shine.
“How I grew up, I was told to call it like I see it, no excuses.”
“I see. You are a product of an uncouth upbringing. Your extreme lack of politeness no longer astounds me.”
“Are you seriously going to just stand there being a pain in the ass and not bring me my clothes?” She scowled.
“I am a klar, human. I am not your servant.” He patted the top of the open shelf. “You can walk. You said so vehemently this morning. Come for your clothing.”
“I’ll be naked in front of you.” If it were possible, her face turned redder. The image her words inspired made him harden.
Mikaal’s smirk deepened. “I fail to see the problem.”
“Of course you don’t, pervert,” she spat, her eyes glittering with anger. “Look, I may be pregnant with your baby, but that doesn’t mean we ... that we’re ever going to ....” she cleared her throat. “Please just stop making this harder for me than it already is. Please bring me my clothes.”
He felt a twinge of shame for provoking her but batted it away. Lifting her clothes from the shelf with his abilities, he sent them to lie on the bed within her reach.
Her eyes widened. “What—How … how did you do that?”
Mikaal shook his head even though he felt a sliver of pride by her amazement. Humans really were limited in their capabilities.
“Telekinesis is one of the many skills inherent to my kind.” He moved toward the door. “I suppose you want me to leave now that you need to dress?”
She bit her lip. “No, you don’t have to. Just turn around and don’t look.”
He bristled under her bossy tones but did as she requested. No-one spoke to him like this. Not even Suri, despite her penchant for disobeying him. Keeping his back turned to her, he sent instructions to the kitchens via another panel to prepare them something to eat. Her rustling as she put on her clothing tempted him to disobey her request. He wanted to turn around and enjoy the view of her nakedness. Though the people on Omaron did not harbour the ridiculous concept of shame when naked, Mikaal did believe in being honourable. He’d promised the human he would not look, so therefore, much as he wanted to, he would not look.
It was for the best, he told himself. Any attraction he felt for the human had to be curtailed. Attraction led to acting on it. Having any relationship with the human beyond treating her like a surrogate mother to his heir led to nothing more than complications. And if there was anything Mikaal enjoyed more than a good fight or honeyed wine, it was simplicity.
5
Megan
“Your clothing is too constricting.”
Megan looked down at her fitted blue shirt and pencil skirt. It’s what she’d been wearing the night she was forcibly impregnated by one alien then abducted by another. Surprisingly, despite being flung all over the place by explosions, the worst her clothing had suffered were grass stains. Did that happen last night or the night before? She wasn’t sure how long she’d been away from Earth.
It felt strange knowing she was no longer on Earth. Even though advanced technology surrounded her, it still bore a great resemblance to the items she was accustomed to on Earth.
She frowned at Mikaal. Sitting in one of the armchairs, one leg folded over the other, fingers interlocked and poised in his lap, he scrutinized her. Even when seated, his intense, violet-eyed stare made her feel like he still towered over her. She wanted to run and hide from him under the bed, but she had this ludicrous image in her head of him using his telekinesis to drag her out, kicking and screaming.
He didn’t like the way she was dressed? Well, that was a laugh. Just a moment ago he had eyed her barely clothed body like a starving man confronting a buffet table. Now he had a problem with what she was wearing?
“No, it isn’t.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, relieved her arm no longer hurt or felt stiff. That gel Zezvar gave her was definitely made of magic. “I’m comfortable.” Well, as comfortable as she could be without shoes. Though with the soft thickness of the carpet, her toes weren’t complaining.
His gaze became skeptical. “They don’t look healthy for the child. Tomorrow, you will be fitted with the proper attire for pregnancy.”
Megan scowled at his authoritativeness. Just because he was some king, just because he’d somehow knocked her up without them actually doing ‘the deed’ didn’t mean he suddenly had full control over her body. She didn’t need pregnancy clothes. At least, not yet. Her stomach was still as flat as a washboard. Well, sort of. She had a stubborn bit of pudginess that no amount of sit-ups could eradicate.
“I’ll wear what I want to wear.”
He got to his fe
et, his eyebrows knitted in irritation. “Why are you so defiant?”
“I don’t know.” Megan edged away, her thighs dragging alongside the bed. “Why are you such a bossy jerk?”
“A native of Omaron would suffer a beheading for less disrespect,” he said, his quiet voice holding a darker tone. He advanced toward her, every step increasing her dread. She’d always been a person who spoke first and suffered the consequences later. But right now, the consequences were manageable. His words might be terrifying and his presence intimidating, but he wouldn’t hurt her. At least not while she was pregnant with his kid. If she could make him even a fraction as uncomfortable as he made her then so be it.
“Yeah, well, I’m a human. The rules don’t apply to me.”
Mikaal stepped into her personal space, crowding it with his overpowering presence and divine smell. Megan inclined her head to stare boldly into his face, even though her heart slammed against her ribcage. Mikaal’s nearness excited her when it should terrify her. Who knew what this alien man was capable of when angered?
“You are still on Omaron soil and I its klar. Therefore, I deserve absolute respect, even from you … Megan.”
She sucked in air slowly. Why did her name sound so good on his tongue?
“You’re not my klar. You’re my captor. Respect is the last thing you’ll be getting from me.”
He leaned down, his gaze sliding to her lips before meeting her wide-eyed stare once more. His violet eyes were almost black, a mixture of anger and arousal in their captivating depths.
“Then I will have to take it from you.”
He was going to kiss her. She believed it with as much conviction as she knew that she had ten fingers and ten toes. She’d known this man for a barely a day yet the heat and attraction between them burned her from the inside out. There were flutters in her stomach as her anticipation mounted, but a warning voice popped up in her head, demanding she prevent Mikaal from touching her.
She was saved from her inner struggle when he backed away on his own. Her relief was great, her disappointment even greater. She blew out a shaky breath as he moved toward the small table.
Mikaal touched the centre of the small table and it instantly became larger, the accompanying armchairs transforming into dining chairs. Then the table sank into floor with a gentle whir, disappearing for a moment before sliding back up, its surface laden with plates of food. Megan regarded the entire process with new amazement. There really was no end to the weird—and admittedly cool—things in this place!
“Come and eat,” said Mikaal, standing beside one of the chairs. His features were impassive, a far cry from the heated look in his eyes a few minutes ago.
For a moment, she considered ignoring his offer, but good manners and hunger forced her forward. Someone dressed in one of those beige tunics had come by earlier to offer her something to eat, but she’d refused their assistance out of anger and spite for Mikaal. Of course, she’d only end up spiting herself. She was ravenous.
“Thanks,” she said grudgingly when he helped her into her seat. At least he was gentlemanly despite his bossiness.
They ate in silence. Trying to forget about what almost happened between them, Megan preoccupied herself with the newness of the alien food. Some things looked and tasted familiar while others were strange and new. Still, she enjoyed it all. Except for one thing. A reddish mush that tasted like the ground guts of a day-old dead fish—even if she’d never had that. One spoonful of it into her mouth later, Megan made a disgusted sound as she grabbed up her napkin and spat into it.
Her face reddening rapidly, she glanced up to see Mikaal looking at her.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her lips, wishing she could sink into the same hole the table had sunk into some moments ago.
“You do not like it,” he said in matter of fact tones.
“Everything else is pretty good except this.” She grimaced and gestured at the red mush on her plate.
“I did not enjoy it as a child either, but I have grown to bear it.”
“What is it?”
Mikaal’s violet eyes were shiny with mirth. “Ground alopan beetle. It tastes better when it is roasted.”
Megan twisted her lips as she tamped down the sudden rise of nausea at Mikaal’s words. Bugs? She just ate ground bugs? Ugh. What other horrible thing had she consumed? She eyed her plate doubtfully.
He extended his hand, indicating she give him her dirtied napkin. When she refused to give it to him out of embarrassment, he reached across the table to grab her hand. Megan grew still from his touch as he plucked the dirty napkin from her grasp and disposed of it.
She tugged her hand away, his touch still warm on her arm.
“I thought you weren’t my servant.”
“You fight me too much.”
“That’s because you constantly steamroll my requests.” She glared at him, trying to ignore the way her hand still tingled where he’d touched her. “How long do you intend to keep me locked up in this room all by myself? As a matter of fact, how long have I been here?”
“Two standard days.”
“What does that mean? Just two days?”
Mikaal leaned back in his seat, watching her closely. Megan fidgeted beneath his gaze. Why did everything about him seem so intense? She was constantly aware of him. Whenever he focused his attention on her, it was as if he had no room for anything else.
“There is a federation of twelve planets in our galaxy. A Union. We share a standardization of many things including currency and time span to simplify trade and commerce. Earth is not a member of the Union. As such, it travels at its own time span.” His voice became quieter. “One standard day within this galaxy is three Earth days.”
He became quiet, ostensibly to let what he’d said sink in. And it did. A rising mix of shock and horror filled Megan. The last conversation she’d had with someone who cared about her was with her sister, Jillian. And that had ended in an explosion. Six days ago. What was going on now on Earth? What would Jillian and the rest of her family think?
That she was dead; killed by the crash of the spaceships, her body nothing but ash from the fire.
Megan launched to her feet, tears prickling the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t let her family think she was dead. She couldn’t let them suffer the pain of loss when she was very much alive. Even pregnant.
“I have to go home,” she said to Mikaal. “Please, let me go home.”
Mikaal’s features darkened. “That’s not possible.”
“It is possible!” she spat. “You just don’t want to do it. You don’t want me to leave because of this.” She pointed at her stomach.
“Yes. You know this. Yet you insist on defying me,” he said, his tone heavy and serious. “You are carrying my child—”
“Then make another one!” she said hotly. “Forget about me. You said it yourself that I was not your ideal choice. Find someone who is and make your future leader with her. Forget about me and let me go home.”
“No. I will not.”
The ensuing silence was heavy and pronounced as they stared at each other. Pressing her hand to her stomach, Megan clenched her shirt as a short instance of hate for the unborn being in her body filled her heart. In the next instance, shame overcame her for feeling that way. The fact that the child existed was not its fault. Nor Mikaal’s.
In consideration, his request of her was not unreasonable even if he was highhanded about it. All he wanted was her patience. He’d already said she was free to return home once she’d given birth, so all she had to do was wait for the baby to be born. After all, it wasn’t that long. Zezvar had claimed that the average gestational period of an Omar baby lasted six months.
Then again, six months in Omaron time was … 18 months in Earth time. She’d be away from Earth, from her family, from the life she knew, for a year and a half. A big fat ‘goodbye’ to her new job, too.
“I can’t just stay here and let my family worry about me, Mikaal,”
she said in quiet defeat as she sank back into her seat. “They think I’m dead.” She met his gaze, her voice imploring. “Please. They at least need to know the truth. They need to know I’m alive.”
Mikaal remained quiet, his gaze fixed on her. She was certain he was going to reject her yet again, and she began to formulate ways she could escape his imprisonment and this planet.
“Interplanetary communication is tenuous to planets outside of the Union galaxy,” he said, finally. When she opened her mouth, ready to argue with him again, he raised a hand to halt her. “However, if you would like to record a video for your family, I will have it delivered to Earth.”
Megan’s spirits lifted at his suggestion. It wasn’t as great as a direct phone call, but a video showing she was alive and in good health was an acceptable alternative.
“Thank you.” She gave him a relieved smile. “Can we do it now?”
“If you wish.”
***
The video recorder was a black, rectangular device shaped like a ruler and just as flat. Mikaal called it his “communication system”, but she just thought of it as The Compuler because it sounded a lot funnier in her head. Megan wasn’t convinced The Compuler had recording capabilities until Mikaal touched it and a hologram screen slid into view. But her awe quickly turned into confusion as her gaze shifted between the screen and the device.
“But there’s no mouse or even a keyboard. How am I suppose to select something?” She squinted at the alien text printed across the screen. “Besides, I can’t read anything on here.”
“You lack patience as much as you lack politeness,” said Mikaal. With a quick press and slide of his hand on The Compuler, it widened into a keyboard, the keys stamped with more illegible text and symbols.
