Joan and the Juggernaut: A SciFi Alien Romance (Alien Abduction Book 10)

by Honey Phillips

  His cock throbbed impatiently, and with a sigh, he headed for the shower. His hand would have to do for now.

  Chapter Four

  Joan scurried away to the kitchen, trying very hard not to think about what had just happened. And certainly not about the way her nipples were pressing against the rough cloth of her dress or the deep, needy ache between her legs. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to an alien. She had been asleep, she reminded herself. Maybe she had been dreaming about Kevin. Although Kevin had never kissed that well and he had certainly not been that enormous…

  Despite her determination to forget, the memory kept playing over and over in her mind until she reached the kitchen and heard a soft chirp from the storage room.

  “George,” she said happily.

  The little lizard had been intended for Ukhaan’s dinner, a rare and expensive treat. But when she lifted him out of his cage, he had chirped and rubbed his head under her chin, and she just couldn’t do it. She had found some bones from a previous meal, burned them beyond recognition, then told Ukhaan that she had fallen asleep and overcooked the meal. For a trembling moment, she had been convinced that he was going to kill her. Instead, he’d made her stand against the wall and whipped her. At the time, she’d thought that death would have been preferable.

  But the lizard, who she named George, had lived. She couldn’t keep him with her all the time, but he seemed quite content exploring the tunnels that threaded through the rock, and he was smart enough to keep out of sight. He came back every day and she fed him and petted him and told him stories while he looked at her with huge golden eyes as if he understood every word. If it hadn’t been for George, she sometimes suspected she would have given up by now.

  “I got the vegetables.”

  The gruff voice came from behind her, and Joan jumped, trying to hide George in the folds of her skirt.

  “Fuck. Girlie, I told you to get rid of that damn animal. What if Ukhaan walked in?”

  “He stays out of the kitchen in the morning.” After she spilled hot cafir on him, “accidentally” dropped an overripe fruit on his best uniform, and left a wet mop in his path, Ukhaan had decided to leave her alone in the morning. The bruises had been worth it to buy a little time to herself.

  Rummel shook his head. “And I told you not to count on that.”

  “I know,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t take a chance with George’s life.”

  “Or your own,” he said dryly. She gave him a quick smile as she gave George a final scratch sent him on his way.

  Rummel was the closest thing she had to a friend in this place. A small, gnome-like alien with a fringe of white hair and bulbous green eyes, he was a gruff older male who had managed to finagle a job as a delivery person, rather than a mine worker. He brought her supplies from the storage lockers and occasionally assisted her in the small hydroponic garden she was attempting to resurrect. Ukhaan had been dismissive of the idea until she served him a sarlan steak accented with a fresh herb sauce. After that, he didn’t object to her endeavors and even agreed to some occasional help from Rummel.

  “I hear Ukhaan has a stranger visiting him,” Rummel said, eyeing her curiously as he sat down at the kitchen table.

  She gave him two thick slices of her homemade bread, oozing with jam, and poured him a mug of tea before she answered. She found herself curiously reluctant to discuss Varga.

  “Ukhaan said he was important. Something about his career.”

  “That means he thinks he might get off of this planet,” Rummel said thickly, his mouth full of bread and jam. “Can’t see it myself. His kind of brutality is more useful at keeping slaves in line than in some corporate office.”

  “Do you think… do you think that if he left, he might take me with him?”

  “No,” Rummel said harshly, but his eyes were sympathetic. “He’ll think he’s on his way to bigger and better things.”

  Joan turned back to fix herself some tea, trying to hide her shaky hands. If Ukhaan left, that meant his right-hand man, Baahy, would take over. Baahy had no interest in her cooking. He had already made it all too clear what her role would be if he was in charge. Fortunately, Ukhaan neither liked nor trusted Baahy, and he had forbidden the male from approaching her. She had been foolish enough to think that meant she enjoyed some level of protection, but given how easily Ukhaan had sent her with Varga, she now realized how wrong she had been.

  “What about the stranger?” Rummel asked after they sat in silence, sipping their tea.

  “What about him?”

  He peered at her from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “Is he interested in you?”

  Heat suffused her face as she remembered this morning kiss.

  “That looks like a yes. Maybe you should encourage him.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t be stupid, girlie. A rich stranger in a luxury yacht. You could do a lot worse.”

  “Indeed she could.”

  The deep voice rolled over her, and she couldn’t suppress a spark of excitement. Unwanted excitement, she told herself firmly.

  “I’m sorry, Master Varga,” she said as she sprang to her feet. “I should not have been gossiping.”

  “I believe your companion was doing the gossiping.”

  “No! It’s not his fault.” Forgetting herself, she looked up and their eyes met. He didn’t look angry. He looked amused, but the longer they looked at each other, the more the amusement was replaced by heat. She finally managed to drag her gaze away.

  “Would you like something to eat? Or drink?” she added hastily as she remembered their discussion of the previous night.

  From the deep chuckle that answered her, she suspected that he remembered as well.

  “Although I am extremely tempted, Ukhaan wishes to show me the operations before breakfast. Perhaps just a mug of cafir?”

  Pouring him a mug, she gathered her courage and came close enough to give it to him. Their fingers touched as she handed it to him. She suspected that it was a deliberate move on his part, but that didn’t stop a rush of heat from moving through her body and she leaped away from him.

  An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, although Varga didn’t seem to be affected. He leaned against the doorframe, sipping his cafir and glancing around. Rummel had looked nervous when the big male arrived, but now his eyes glittered with amusement. She did her best to ignore them both as she pulled a tray of muffins out of the oven.

  “What are those?” Varga asked.

  “I call them corn muffins.” Not that she had corn, of course, but one of the plants in the greenhouse produced small kernels that were surprisingly similar. The muffins were based on a heavily adapted recipe of her grandmother’s and always made her remember those long-ago days cooking with the older woman.

  “Would you like one?” she found herself asking.

  He nodded. She put two on the plate for him and, with a quick look at him, slid one in front of Rummel. Varga didn’t object, too busy devouring the muffins. When he was done, he looked so hopeful that she silently handed him two more. In less than five minutes, he and Rummel had finished the entire pan. Oh well. She could always make more.

  “Those were delicious,” he said with a regretful glance at the empty pan.

  “And now they’re gone. Perhaps you should be also?”

  He grinned and sauntered over to where she was standing. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her front even though they weren’t quite touching. He bent down and she waited, half-anticipating, half-dreading his kiss. But all he did was whisper in her ear.

  “As delicious as they were, I still suspect that you would be even more delicious.” She couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp, and he was still grinning when he turned to go. “I look forward to our next… meal.”

  For such a big male, he moved with surprising speed, vanishing from the kitchen before she could think of a response.

  “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna need much encouragement
,” Rummel said dryly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her cheeks were heating again, but she ignored them and started on a second batch of muffins.

  “You could do worse.”

  “Maybe he’s just being nice until he gets what he wants.”

  Rummel gave a disgusted grunt. “Girlie, you’re a slave. He can get whatever he wants whenever he wants it.”

  “I know,” she whispered. The knowledge was always there, but it was easier to ignore when she was busy in the kitchen.

  His expression softened, and he gave her shoulder a brusque pat as he jumped down from the table. “Better get going.”

  “Here.” Abandoning the muffins, she hurried over to a storage cabinet and pulled out a small bag. “These are for the other women.”

  “One of these days, I’m gonna get caught,” he complained, but he took the bag and slipped it inside his shirt. “Or you are.”

  “I know it’s a risk, but it’s the least I can do.”

  The knowledge of the other female slaves haunted her. She could so easily be in their position. When she realized that Rummel had a fair amount of freedom to move around, she had asked him to take extra food to the females. He had grumbled but agreed.

  So far, Ukhaan hadn’t noticed the small increase in her use of the food supplies. While he kept a close eye on the more expensive food items, he didn’t bother about the staples, and she was able to send something with Rummel several times a week.

  “How are they?” she asked, already dreading the answer. One female died not long after she arrived, and a second one a month ago. There were only three females left, and she’d heard Ukhaan muttering about requesting another shipment soon.

  Rummel frowned. “One of ‘em is getting worse.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not unless you can kill every bastard in this place,” he said bitterly, then shook his head. “Just do whatever you can to stay out of those cells.”

  She stared after him as he left, then sighed and returned to work. The thought of Varga flitted through her mind. Since he had liked the corn muffins so much, perhaps he would enjoy a chowder made from the small kernels. Resolutely refusing to think about why she had any desire to please the big male, she set to work.

  Chapter Five

  By the time they returned to Ukhaan’s quarters for dinner, Varga was on edge. The conditions in the mines were all too familiar and brought back memories he would rather have forgotten. Having to play the part of a callous businessman filled him with disgust. He had done his best to disguise it but Ukhaan seemed to be regarding him with increased suspicion.

  The two of them ate silently. Joan had prepared another delicious meal, but he hated having her wait on them. He had a hard time keeping his eyes away from where she stood silently against the wall.

  “Leave us,” Ukhaan demanded as soon as they finished, and she began to gather up their plates.

  “Don’t send the slave away,” he said lazily. “She can attend me.”

  A flash of defiance flared in those silver eyes, but it passed so quickly that he was sure Ukhaan hadn’t seen it when the overseer shrugged and nodded. Good. His little human knew how to keep her head down and attention focused away from her.

  “Bring me a drink,” he ordered. After she silently obeyed, she started to return to her position by the wall, but instead he tugged her down at his feet. A definite flash of defiance that time but he ignored it, curling his fingers into her silky brown hair. The light caught on the dark strands, showing highlights from gold to red. How had he ever thought that her hair was drab? He was so focused on her that he almost missed Ukhaan’s next words.

  “What do you think? Are you prepared to make a deal?” the overseer demanded.

  He arched a brow and looked down his nose at the male, mimicking the attitude of so many of the nobles he had encountered. “It is much too soon to say. But I will go this far….” He paused delicately, letting Ukhaan squirm at his hesitation. “The results to date look promising. Most promising.”

  The other male relaxed back in his chair, a broad grin covering his ugly face. It was almost too easy. No, he reminded himself. Ukhaan might not be subtle, but he was not unintelligent. It would be a mistake to ignore his determined brutality.

  “How do you keep your production costs so low?” he asked casually.

  “The slaves, of course. Most mines focus on the bigger slaves because of the amount of force required.” Ukhaan shrugged. “And of course, I purchase a few of those as well. But they’re expensive and they’re hard to keep in line. I found that the smaller slaves can be quite effective with the right… motivation. Even though they don’t last as long, they cost very little.”

  Varga forced himself to nod approvingly, even though his skin crawled at the memory of those wretched males in the tunnels. At least his own people had been suited for the work, their bodies forged in the crucible of Sorvid. And they had not technically been slaves, unless you considered desperation their master.

  His fingers clenched in Joan’s hair at the memory, and her soft gasp, quickly silenced, brought him back to the present. Ukhaan laughed.

  “I see you know something about keeping slaves in line yourself.”

  Suddenly sickened by the part he was playing, he impulsively reached down and lifted Joan into his lap, pulling her against his chest and curving his hand over her breast. He knew that to Ukhaan his grip looked brutal, but he had no intention of hurting her. Her body was taut in his arms, and with the hand that Ukhaan couldn’t see, he stroked her hip soothingly until she relaxed.

  Ukhaan continued to pontificate about his methods and his skill at maximizing profits and Varga attempted to appear interested, even though having the little human in his arms was extremely distracting. Finally, he faked a yawn and stood, keeping Joan cradled against his chest.

  When Ukhaan’s gaze turned speculative, he realized his mistake and swung her over his shoulder instead, hoping he had acted decisively enough to avert suspicion. Joan’s body went rigid but to his relief, she didn’t protest.

  “I assume I may use the human again tonight?” He kept his tone disinterested, almost bored, but his heart sank when Ukhaan studied him for a minute before responding.

  “For tonight, of course. But perhaps we should conclude our business tomorrow—before you are… distracted.”

  “Perhaps.” He shrugged casually. “I still wish to see the smelting operation and examine the shipping records.”

  “Very well. Until tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow,” he echoed and left the room.

  Joan immediately started to squirm, and he was about to lift her back into his arms when he spotted Baahy coming towards them. The short time he had spent in the male’s company was enough to create a fierce disgust. Ukhaan’s methods were brutal, but they were driven by a ruthless desire for efficiency. Baahy was simply sadistic—he enjoyed causing pain.

  Varga gave Joan a sharp smack across her delightful ass. She froze, and he spoke before she could protest.

  “Greetings, Baahy.”

  “Greetings, Varga.” Baahy leered at Joan’s body, his eyes covetous. “I see Ukhaan let you take his slave. Good. It’s about time someone taught her her place. I told him she thought she was too fucking good to service a male.” His ugly face twisted into a scowl. “But as usual, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Varga raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

  Baahy took a step closer, lowering his voice. “We should talk. I could make this place ten times more productive if Ukhaan didn’t tie my hands.”

  “That’s an interesting claim,” he said coolly. “Can you back it up?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “Then bring me your business plan tomorrow.”

  “Business plan? I don’t need a fucking business plan.” Baahy smirked and tapped his head. “Experience. That’s what I got. I know how to work a slave. Male or female.” He ran his eyes over Joan again. “I’d have that one
on her knees begging in five minutes.”

  “I am quite capable of handling a slave.” His voice was deliberately arrogant, and Baahy’s eyes narrowed. “And I rely on numbers, not idle boasts about… experience.”

  “Boasts? Why you—”

  “But if you’d like me to tell Ukhaan that you have been presenting me with your ideas, perhaps he could help you translate them into actual numbers?”

  Whatever Baahy’s faults, he was not stupid. Despite his anger, he shook his head and forced a polite tone. “No, thank you, sir. I wouldn’t want you to trouble him while he’s so busy.”

  “Then perhaps we shall see each other tomorrow. Good night.”

  Varga turned and walked off, feeling the male’s eyes boring into his back.

  As soon as he was safely in his quarters, he placed Joan back on her feet. Her lip trembled, but she lifted her chin.

  “I hate that bastard,” she muttered, then seemed to realize what she had said. Her eyes dropped submissively. “I’m sorry, Master Varga. I only meant that he was not respectful of Master Ukhaan. I hope you don’t intend to tell him of Master Baahy’s disloyalty…”

  He almost laughed. Her words were so clearly the opposite of what she actually thought.

  “No, I don’t intend to tell him.”

  Disappointment crossed her face before she could mask it, but she didn’t protest.

  “No, Master Varga.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

  “I will, of course, listen to anything that you tell me.”

  Impatient with her feigned meekness, he put a finger under her chin and raised it until she was forced to look up at him. He caught the same silvery flash of defiance in her eyes before she schooled her features.

  “You do not need to pretend with me, little bird,” he said softly.