Tears slip down my cheeks, blurring my already compromised vision.
Get out.
You need to get out.
Who the hell do I think I am? Honestly? I’m only Ella Harlow, bartender, sometimes klutzy dork, and the last time I went to the gym, it was to stalk the girl my boyfriend cheated on me with. It’s not like I possess some kind of super power that would make me an interesting subject of study. Never mind allow me to break out of this mess.
I can’t even break free of my own messes.
I swallow hard, tasting the salt of my own tears.
“if you would calm down for a minute, I could get you out,” a male voice says through a speaker. “There’s no reason to freak like you’re headed for a slaughterhouse.” His voice is ridiculously deep, a rumble that sets my core vibrating.
Ro.
It takes only a second to recognize that voice, seductive and intimidating all at once. I pull the sheets up over my body, suddenly aware of just how exposed I am. My breasts hang out of my torn dress like I’m a hooker on my last leg and god knows my legs have probably been open the entire time I slept. I press my knees shut, face burning, just as a figure moves into sight on the other side of the current.
At first glance, he’s like nothing I’ve seen outside of dreams—- a distraction of muscles and horns and an overpowering display of masculinity. He’s Ro — I can still see the familiar eyes, the all-knowing smile — but other than that he’s changed.
Out of his human skin and into the skin of whatever identity he’s assuming. Dark hair spills over his shoulders, divided between horns, and the face beneath is a perfect match for some kind of elf model: sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, eyes that shift shades like they’re possessed by rainbows. His eyes glint green as they meet mine, but they quickly alert into a wild red. His gaze keeps me hypnotized so that I can’t scream, no matter how much my brain demands it. I’m too busy staring at his flexing muscles and that deliciously perfect body. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on---
“You know what my favorite thing is about you?” He extends a hand and the current between us shifts like a curtain to let him in. “You don’t even try to hide your thoughts. Most humans at least make some attempt to block us.”
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe I actually want to let him in.
I lick my bottom lip. Tell myself to breathe —and behave—no matter how badly I want to react.
He lowers himself in place on the edge of my bed and I stare as he smiles, a long-drawn-out gesture that exposes silver tipped teeth and mind-numbingly white molars. He’s utter perfection and his stance says he knows it.
Come on, Ella. Wake up.
“Most humans don’t have to deal with apparitions.” I fold my arms, suddenly resenting his stare, and he laughs out loud.
“Ah. Xhav will have a spunky one.”
Xhav? The name brings no recognition. I blink, staring into Ro’s face, studying the lines and sharp contours, trying to reconnect him with the Ro I met at the club. His skin is darker, almost green and his body is even more immense than in its human imitation. Unmistakably alien and unmistakably hot.
And good lord, that direct, hungry gaze of his is enough to make me wet.
He laughs under his breath, amused rather than irritated. “Do you like what you see?”
I should say no.
But everything inside me screams yes.
My body flares with heat, a familiar throbbing that leaves me squirming against the bed. Almost unconsciously, my hand eases down between my legs and between the folds of my pussy, playing, working, teasing until my entire body trembles with desire. Ro watches me with a growing hunger licking at the back of his eyes and I let my finger enter my core, pumping with frantic lust while he watches. With a growl, he eases a hand down to mine, huge fingers closing around my hand. I let out a gasp of pleasure as my finger enters me fully and my walls contract, and he keeps his hand over mine, rubbing my palm against my folds with a relentless pressure of pleasure. The smolder inside me explodes into full flame. Gasping, I push a second finger in and then another, desperate, wild, hungry, and he watches me with eyes darkened with lust. His heat throbs against my naked skin until I no longer can fight back my arousal. I buck against him, gasps shaking my body, and without warning he slips his hand away. A faint whimper of disappointment swells in my throat and I reach for him, tugging him back down to me.
Good god, is he hung. I reach for his belt, desperate and hungry to run my fingers down the bulging length in his pants. My fingers brush his cock, a soft, seductive touch that sets a low groan rising from his chest.
I raise my gaze to his, seeking permission, before unlatching the belt and pulling him free. His cock throbs over my palm and a good halfway down my forearm, so thick I can’t curl my fingers fully around the base, dark skin throbbing with arousal. I ease down to my knees with a growl that is part primal and part hunger, and his hands find my shoulders, squeezing into my skin with a pleasant burn of pain. I slide my fingers up the length of his shaft and back down again, teasing until I hear his quickened breathing. I look up into his face, into those dark, dark eyes. Tease him with the invitation in my eyes before lowering my head and taking him inside me.
My lips close around the head, tongue swirling across that delicious length, before I begin to suck, pulling him into me until his head throbs against the inside of my throat. He’s larger than I can fully take in and my mouth aches in protest of his width. I want him in me, need him in me, and I can’t take him in fast enough. I swirl my tongue across his length, feel him trembling against me, on the verge of losing control. A groan escapes him and he eases a hand into my hair. The more I tease, the tighter his grip becomes, fingers clenched in a hint that it won’t take much more to drive him over the edge. Precum coats my tongue, a subtle, wild taste, and I swirl my tongue around his head, searching for more. He bucks against me, fighting for control, and I relentlessly keep tasting him, licking every forgotten spot, pumping relentlessly.
I need him closer. Need him all the way in me and no matter how hard he gets, I’m not letting go.
I bob my head, taking in his length fully until his cock throbs against the roof of my mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Teasing.
And then-- he loses control.
He comes like a whirlwind, his hot essence coating my tongue, burning down my throat, and we’re still for a long moment before I finally release him. I sit back, breathing hard, and a low laugh rumbling in the back of his throat as he relaxes his tight grip on my hair. “Xhav definitely will find you a good choice, wild one.”
“Xhav?” I fight for breath.
“The trader.” I could swear he brushes his thumb against my cheek for an instant. But the touch is gone as quick as it came, leaving me wondering if I only imagined it. “You really didn’t think I took you for myself, did you?” His face shows no inclination of any softness, as hard and chiseled as stone and every bit as emotionless as he looks down at me. “There’s no way in Snuu that Xhav would ever turn you down.”
“Keep me?” Breathe, Ella, breathe.
He turns away abruptly, his skin tingeing a dark green. “Humans fetch a good price on every market. You’re kind of my last option at the moment.”
“You took me to sell me?” Fury explodes through my core, a lava flow that threatens to consume me in and out. A blur of epithets pound through my brain, a thousand things I want to call him, but I can’t find the breath to release them.
“It certainly isn’t the best position for you,” he says coolly. He has the gall not to look back at me. “But my ship needs repairs. Repairs cost money.”
Options.
He’s going to sell me off like I’m a fucking piece of meat and he expects me to be OK with that?
I pull myself up from my knees, stomach knotting. “I have powerful friends. There’s no way you’ll get away with—”
“You have few friends.” His voice is monotone as if reciting from a lo
ng-memorized list. “Ella Harlow. 24 years old. A bartender without a social life. Did you really think I wouldn’t do my research on you before deciding on the market?”
Oh god, oh god, oh god. This is really happening.
Panicked breaths choke in my thorat.
He looks through me with unreadable reptilian eyes then abruptly pulls the lever that opens the door. He beckons to me in silence, and I pull up to my feet, wiping my mouth on my forearm while he watches. For an instant the hunger dips back into his eyes, only to dissolve once more.
Leaving a hard stare that’s impossible to read.
Too protected.
“The trader is waiting for the first introduction.” He takes my hand as he leads me out of the room and into a bright metal corridor. “When you’re introduced, you go down on your knees.”
“Like I did for you?”
He’s so quiet that for a moment I wonder if he heard me. Then, “That’s the last thing you should do with Xhav.” His face twitches slightly and I wonder if he’s trying not to laugh.
“His tastes don’t extend to pleasure?”
He looks back at me incredulously and I lick my tongue slowly over my lower lip. He whips his gaze back around. Walks faster. I run to catch up with him, but even then, he doesn’t look at me. Almost like he’s -- embarrassed? Good god, what kind of alien code did we just break?
We pass a corner and cut through an empty dining hall past a series of sealed doors. It isn’t until we’re in the next passage that he finally speaks. Not that he bothers with eye contact. “Just be quiet and submissive. Nothing that will draw negative attention. Traders can be prickly if you don’t know how to deal with them.”
“Prickly.” I raise an eyebrow and I swear his face reddens underneath all the green. He releases a frustrated breath.
“Let me do the talking, Human. That’s all I ask.”
“I suppose women must be silent in the presence of strangers, then.” My tone drips sarcasm.
“I hardly think I’m a stranger after what we—” He catches himself. “Call me Ro if you must address me. But there will be no reason for you to speak in the trader’s presence, are we understood?”
“Maybe.” I’m not making any promises.
I keep my head down as I follow him, uncertainty splintering my ribcage until it’s a fight to breathe. Alien guards watch us from stations in the wall, their faces impassive, alert, dissecting me with a single glance.
I’ve never felt more like prey.
And yet I have no urge to fight back. Instead I inch closer to Ro, stealing comfort from his closeness. He glances back at me and slows his pace slightly, and I take the opportunity to catch up. Somehow, it’s easier to breathe with his bulk protecting me from the majority of stares.
“Only a little longer, small one.”
“What did you just call me?”
“Small one. Tiny, petite, fragile, correct?”
“Shit, no.” I’m none of those things. Just because he’s a beast doesn’t mean I’m small. I’m 5’7” and a grown-ass woman who can take care of herself, thank you very much.
Except, well, I did get myself kidnapped by an alien, so maybe my self-help could use a little more work.
I fold my arms, irritated, and he glances down at me, his features softening. “What did I say?”
First of all, a male who actually picks up on mood swings? Why couldn’t I have met someone like this on Earth? “I don’t need your protection, OK? I’m not small and I’m not fragile and I really would appreciate it if you would just return me to the club.”
His biceps flinch, an involuntary reaction. “The trader himself picked you out of the queue. It’s impossible I could return you.”
So, I’m supposed to be OK with the fact that some alien trader has been watching me for who knows how long.
And here I thought males failed to notice me.
“Trader, huh?” I scan the anonymous line of faces watching us from farther down the corridor. “Which one is he? I’ll talk to him myself. There’s no way he could be dastardly enough to keep me against my wi—”
“I told you— you can’t talk to the trader.” Irritation tightens his voice. “There’s an entire gamut of questions and traditions you have to pass before you’ll be allowed to address him. This visit is simply for him to see you and for you to observe.”
“So basically, I’m supposed to sit there like some friendly human rug,” I say. “Forgive me for not being thrilled.”
He shoots a concerned glance my way. “I forgive you.” The irony obviously has gone right over his head and it’s almost adorable, even though I’m still majorly annoyed with him.
Seriously. Science classes would have been much more interesting if they told us aliens could be cute and hot and— well, tasty — not just threats to Earth’s survival. I lick my bottom lip, smirking as I recall our encounter, and Ro tilts his head, watching me.
“Do you thirst?”
Oh, hell yes. I bite my lip and raise my gaze slowly to his, and he eyes me like I’m Marilyn Monroe — or whoever the alien equivalent of Marilyn Monroe would be.
“Nothing that can’t be taken care of,” I whisper. I let my gaze drop to his dick and the hunger inside me grows as his cock swells under my gaze.
Looks like I’m not the only one hungry for another encounter.
“Ella.” He turns, catching my arm, and my name is uncertain, almost a test, on his tongue. I stand on my tiptoes to bring myself closer to his face.
“Ro.”
I feel his heart beating against my chest. Wild. Out of control. He wants me — I can see it in every hesitant move of his body— and yet neither of us moves. Doubt and frustration erase every other emotion from his face, only to be replaced by lust as his reptilian gaze flicks down my body and up to my face once more.
“You’re not mine to take.” His voice roughens. “The trader could cancel the transaction if he knew I tampered with his goods.”
“But I don’t belong to him.” I press myself closer to him. “I choose who I belong to.”
He turns abruptly away, and my hand is cold where his touch abandoned me. “Then you’re in for quite the surprise.”
Chapter 3
“Turn her around. Let me see her ass.”
OK, so call me ignorant when it comes to alien rituals.
But sitting on my knees in front of a huge-ass screen while a dull-blue alien dude in a bathrobe gives me a once-over is hardly my idea of a sexy time.
Who knows. Maybe awkward situations give aliens a boner.
Ro turns me in front of the floor-to-ceiling screen, faster than the trader would like, judging by his grunts. Ro keeps a hand on my shoulder even after he’s drawn me to a stop.
“Any interesting qualities?” Alien Douchebag checks out my cleavage with the air of a bored connoisseur. His right stub of a nostril twitches. “For your sake, you better say yes, seeing she’s hardly the model I expected. She looks nothing like her pictures.”
What the actual fuck? Has he not looked in a mirror lately? Compared to Ro, he's roadkill that’s been scraped off of a car hood and haphazardly pieced back together. I pull myself up, ready to launch myself at the condescending prick, only to find Ro’s hand on my shoulder, gently keeping me in place.
Damn it. Why does he have to be so observant?
“Patience,” he says against my ear and I shiver in spite of myself. What is it about him that is so addicting?
“Esteemed trader. There’s more to this human than meets the eye.” Ro studiously avoids looking at me. “According to her records, she is in the peak of her youth, highly capable of bearing children, and her features are asymmetrical to Earth’s expectations of beauty.”
Records? I stare incredulously up at him.
Trader Douchebag fails to look appeased. “If I must put up with half-breeds, I would at least appreciate that they would not take after her.”
Children?
With him? Or with some other
alien of his choosing? Whatever the case, he’s in a fucking dream world. I open my mouth again, but Ro’s grip tightens on my shoulder, his fingers massaging my muscles in a silent acknowledgment of my anger. Bowing heavily, he switches to his native tongue in a series of emphatic grunts and rolled consonants.
“Jaakrta dimmu gi shalmu bhrkrek…”
The trader’s gaze remains locked on me. He scans up and down my body with slow deliberation as if he’s tearing off my clothes piece by piece to inspect me. I wrap my arms around my front, covering the cleavage peeking out of my neckline, but that fails to deter him. Ro’s hand remains on my shoulder, warm, comforting, as soothing as his voice, although hell knows I can’t understand a word he’s saying.
But I know.
Know he’s working to convince the trader to accept his offer.
Me.
An unwilling human bride, maybe? Or an exotic addition to some royal harem? God knows the trader better not keep me for himself. I’d slit his throat rather than ever sleep with him, but maybe I just have higher standards than most humans.
Well, higher standards when it comes to the trader, that is.
Ro, now? That’s a different story.
I swallow down a smirk.
“She holds degrees in Earth literature and politics.” Ro switches into English. The faintest hint of an accent twists his words. “She would be exactly what your clients would need in order to establish connections with Earth. A human female with first-hand experience with their lifestyle and culture.” He lowers himself in a bow, his drool-worthy body straining against the restraints of his clothes. Mmmm. At least there’s something to make this bargaining bearable.
“She is everything you asked for, my lord. I beg you to accept my offer.”
No, no, no. I clench my hands in my lap, fingernails cutting into bone. I know that once I look into Ro’s face — into those unreadable galaxies of eyes— I’ll never be able to stay furious at him. He’s too mesmerizing, too —good god, I hate being honest like this— delicious. I sneak a glance at his lower body, gaze skimming across his muscular legs and the hard cock straining against his pants, and it’s enough to set my pussy throbbing. Desire I can’t fight back even though I know they’re both watching me. That any sign of desire will be interpreted as attraction toward the trader.
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