They tried to avoid each other, him leaving to go off and do whatever he did to run the ship while she watched strange alien videos that taught her nothing other than the fact she knew absolutely nothing at all. But like yin and yang, Ben and Jerry, and every other pair who couldn’t stay apart, they kept finding excuses to see each other.
Their few conversations, more like sparring matches, always ended one way—naked and panting. Actually, she did it on purpose to goad him into fucking her, but in her defense, he appeared to be doing the same thing.
For some reason, they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other even if they maintained their charade of dislike. Nor could they simply just have sex, they needed to go through a complicated dance involving shouting and manhandling—the physical wresting the part which titillated her most.
At least this time, I don’t have to go through the whole betrayal thing, she mused. He made no bones about the fact he was going to sell her as soon as he hit the right market. And yet, the funny thing was every time she threw his plan to auction her as a sex slave in his face, he got quiet and angry. Then he always screwed her until she screamed like a banshee. Needless to say, she threw that in his face every chance she got.
They’d exchanged, in between sexual bouts and verbal battles, some bits of personal info. She’d regaled him over another glass of that deadly wine all her previous failed relationships. He’d boasted of his numerous conquests. That particular conversation ended up with her throwing his sex figurines at him and calling him names followed by raking-nails-down-his-back sex. She didn’t know which of them was the more pathetic—her for continually trying and failing at love, or him for avoiding it like the plague.
He still didn’t trust her with his ship—wise pirate—so she found herself confined to whatever room he wanted her in. Most often the bedroom, but he did also bring her up to his bridge on occasion to give his chair a frenzied and sweaty workout.
They fell into a comfortable pattern, one which she hated to admit she enjoyed. It took her lamenting the fact she didn’t have any oils to massage his delectable body with that made her realize this was a problem. She needed distraction from the fact she was growing feelings for her captor. Some form of the Stockholm syndrome that wouldn’t end well, for her at least. Thus when the computer announced they approached a docking station for repairs, she jumped all over it.
"I want to come with you," she declared as he clothed his magnificent body.
He didn’t even bother to look at her as he replied, a shame because she’d displayed her bosom—a weak spot of his—as a distraction. "No. It’s too dangerous."
"Aw, are you trying to tell me you care?" Intentionally, she baited him and when he shot her a glare, she batted her eyelashes at him.
He growled. "You’re vexing me again. You know what happens when you do that."
Megan rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. The same thing that happened, like, five minutes ago in the shower when I told you to shave because your face was roughing my girly parts up. And, like, a few hours ago in your command center chair when I declared mutiny. Now, just imagine how much I could irritate you if I came along."
His eyes flared with a look she’d come to recognize—lust. "Very well. You can come with me. But I warn you right now, if you start any trouble, I will leave you there to your fate."
A grin spread across her face as he caved in to her request. "Fine. Whatever. However, do you think while you’re acting all hotshot with the locals, you could find me some clothes that fit?" While his clothes were comfortable and soft, she’d prefer garments of her own. The red dress had unfortunately not survived one of their more vigorous encounters.
"Any more demands? This isn’t some frukxian cruise you know," he snarled as he tugged on his boots. She ignored his attitude as she’d come to realize a few days ago it was his way of pretending he didn’t like her. She knew this because she did the same thing.
"Hey, you’re the one who abducted me. Now you get to deal with the consequences." She smirked at him, and then chuckled at his dark glower.
She stopped laughing, though, when he strapped holsters around his waist, thighs and arms. He proceeded to fill them with knives and pistols that he pulled out of yet another opening in the wall.
"Um, is that all really necessary?" She eyed his growing arsenal with fascination and a touch of trepidation.
He didn’t bother to answer as he slid a pair of daggers into each of his boots. Armed with enough weapons for half a dozen men, he straightened and grinned, a predatory smile that displayed his pointed teeth. A sane person would have screamed, fainted or shuddered in fear. Megan shivered alright, but with lust because, by all that was holy, he looked damned good—and dangerous.
So good in fact, she delayed their departure to show him how much she liked his mercenary look.
* * *
Tren wanted to bang his head off a wall, maybe punch a few things, and he definitely wanted to kill something. A smart male would have annihilated the female strutting along beside him, but dammit, he admired her spirit, worshiped her body, and grudgingly liked her. Even stranger, he got a feeling she liked him back. Sure, she didn’t know everything about him, such as his reputation as the universe’s most renown mercenary. However, he got the feeling it wouldn’t matter one whit to her. She acted like a queen—demanding and imperious. Strangely, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed her, both in and out of bed. Not that he’d admit it out loud. She’d use that information against me for sure, he thought with a grin.
He still hadn’t changed his mind about selling her; however, he’d decided to keep her for a longer portion of his voyage, his twisted logic dictating he’d get a better price for her nearer his home world. He also selfishly intended to enjoy as much of her naked body as he could until that time. It surprised him that he hadn’t tired of her yet; actually, he still fought the urge to mark her each time she exposed her neck. Obviously, he’d caught some kind of space illness because he even looked forward to her harangues and attempts to hurt him, her feisty nature calling to something in him. Not that he let her get away with her bouts of violence and vocal displeasure. Of course his method of punishment—extreme screaming pleasure—might have had a lot to do with the fact she didn’t let up in her attempts to drive him insane.
Crazy human. My human. The possessive thought almost stopped his heart, and he must have uttered something because she peered back at him to ask, "You alright?"
Grunting in reply, he blamed his strange thought on the fact he was taking his merchandise for a walk and would probably need to protect it. I should add liar to my list of skills.
Tren kept one hand on his holster as they exited the docking tunnel into the main part of the way station; a jumbled mess of buildings meshed together and covered by a dome on an asteroid circling a weak star. It was the only space station in this section of the galaxy, and one he tended to avoid because of its surcharges and ratty denizens. Given they’d sustained some minor damage during their hyperspeed flight and he still had a rear thruster in need of repair, it made sense to take advantage of the services offered here, even if the prices ranged into the obscene.
Although, not as obscene as the leer thrown Megan’s way by the one eyed Kharnqiop who added to his disrespect by drooling. Tren didn’t like it one bit. Stepping behind Megan, Tren bared his pointed teeth in a snarl that promised violence and extreme pain. The creature clamped its mouth shut, dropped its dozen eyes and shuffled off, probably to spread the word he’d arrived.
Good. Teaching lessons to the hot heads who’d come crawling from the corners of this cesspit would keep him entertained while he waited for the repairs. Yet another reason he’d retired. Covert operations were harder to manage when everyone knew your face and, in an attempt to gain recognition, kept attacking—and dying. At least their feeble attempts to take him out since retirement kept him in practice. Having Megan along to protect would add an interesting element, though. I’ll kill anyone who touches her. For busine
ss, of course. Damaged goods wouldn’t fetch a nice price. He wondered how she’d feel about up close and personal violence.
Probably cheer if she thought it would benefit her.
The thought made him smirk.
He let her lead the way, which amused him since she had no idea where to go, but she faked it well with her head held high, stalking like she owned the place. Spilling out into the main thoroughfare, crowded with beings from a multitude of races, she finally halted. He moved to stand beside her, his presence claiming her without words as his property.
He let her look around with wide eyes before he nudged her in the direction they needed to go. "Stop gawking. You look like fresh meat."
"Well, excuse me for suffering some culture shock. It’s one thing to meet you, you kind of look human. But this," she inclined her head. "That’s freaking wild."
Tren tried to view it for a moment from her perspective, the scene before them one he’d seen a hundred times before. Beings of all shapes, sizes, colors and in possession of appendages in the single to double digits roamed the marketplace. Normal stuff. He shrugged. "You’ll get used to it. Now come on. We need to get the work order in before the first ones arrive."
"First what?"
Tren didn’t bother answering, he just took off at a brisk walk, and after a moment’s hesitation she followed. But, of course, she didn’t walk behind him in a position of subservience. She placed herself on his left and with her lips tight, pretended an aloofness he could tell by her tight body she didn’t feel. Frukx, but he admired her spirit.
Locating the grungy office of the service station, he sauntered in and slammed his fist down on the counter. A familiar face came scurrying in from the back. Tren sneered as the creature blanched. He relayed his instructions on repair to the three armed mechanic who bobbed his head in deference. Tren made sure to keep one eye on Megan who prowled around with way too much curiosity in her eyes. She also looked much too enticing in his oversized shirt, the sway of her breasts entirely too visible.
Tren growled and the mechanic stepped back, swallowing hard with all five of his mouths. He fixed his gaze on the creature. "I expect it done within one astral unit."
"But the other clients—"
Tren leaned forward and grabbed the mechanic by the neck. "Do you need to lose another arm?" Annoyed at the exorbitant rates they’d charged him last time, and the scratch they’d put on his hull, Tren had displayed his displeasure in a way that left a permanent impression.
Frantic head bobbing answered him and Tren released the alien, a sudden prickling on the back of his nape making him whirl. Megan no longer lurked the shop, having stepped out into the thoroughfare.
And of course, she’d found trouble.
Chapter Eight
"Unhand me right now," Megan demanded, hiding her fear behind false bravado. Not an easy task considering the slimy grasp of the blue octopus holding her wrist.
A gurgle she suspected passed as a chuckle made her grimace. "That was totally gross. And I said let me go." When the alien creature ignored her and started tugging, her sandaled feet sliding, she got mad.
"You must be a male under all that disgusting goo." She pulled out a chopstick saved from one of their dinners. After seeing Tren’s own preparations, she’d tucked it into her pants in case of an emergency. This certainly counted. She jabbed the oversized needle into the tentacle holding her. The icky alien squealed as it released her. Megan took a step back and bared her teeth in a grimace as she waved her makeshift rapier at it.
Its eyes, all half dozen of them, fixated on something behind her. It shrieked again, even louder, as a big, familiar body rushed past her. Tren picked up the extraterrestrial as if it weighed no more than a feather and threw it against a corrugated wall. It hadn’t even begun sliding down, leaving a slimy trail, when Tren pulled out a pistol and fired.
A great big hole appeared in the middle of the creature while Megan watched with her jaw dropped low enough to hit her toes. Given she could have stuck her hand through the octopus thingy without touching its insides, she presumed it was dead.
Tren holstered his gun and turned to face her. The dangerous glitter in his eyes and the tenseness of his face sent a jolt of pure desire through her. Oh my god, I think that was the single most, hottest thing any man has ever done for me. She ignored the fact she’d just about saved herself before he’d arrived. She admired the way he took charge and protected her.
"You are uninjured?" he asked, his clear blue eyes checking her up and down.
"Slimed, but fine. You know, I’d just about taken care of him," she announced as she held up her chopstick.
A smile tugged his lips. "Yes, you did. I just made an example of him to warn others away. You are not upset I killed it?"
She shrugged. "I might have felt different if it were a human you just shot a cannon through, but I never did care for seafood."
He snorted, tried to stop it, but couldn’t. He laughed aloud, a mirthful sound that proved contagious and she joined him. She vaguely noticed that some of the alien folks walking by stopped to gape at them, but she paid them no mind. Tren owned the most awesome laugh and she got the impression he didn’t use it often. It pleased her to know she’d caused it even if unintentionally.
"Stow your vicious weapon, my feisty barbarian. We wouldn’t want to frighten the shop owners into closing before we can purchase some items."
Megan tucked the chopstick into her waistband before sauntering off. "Shopping. Cool. Think we can find some more shoes? I’d love to find some steel-toed combat boots in my size. These sandals suck for kicking balls with."
Tren snorted and Megan grinned as she perused the storefronts that made her think of home. Well, if you discounted the fact the garments on display owned several sleeves and the shopkeepers all resembled mad science experiments.
Adrenaline from the fight wore off and she hid an internal quiver as she pretended interest in the wares offered by creatures straight out of Men in Black. Her mind whirled as it finally hit her. She’d not only stabbed something living, she’d watched it get killed for just touching her. While she didn’t regret her actions—and still found his hot—it made her wonder exactly how violent she could expect her new life to end up. Judging by the occasional grunts and thumps that she heard from behind her where Tren followed, probably often.
A savage part of her approached the concept with glee. No more false politeness or putting up with bullshit. But then again, as with all things, only the strongest would prevail. Currently, Tren protected her, but what about when he relinquished ownership of her—not something she wanted to truly think of, but she’d always been a realist. What skills did she have to survive other than an acerbic tongue? In a battle of fists or weapons, speech wouldn’t gain her a thing.
In sudden inspiration, she whirled to speak to Tren and almost bit her tongue, trying to hold in laughter. She found him with one fist cocked while his other hand held up a goblin-like creature by the neck. He appeared sheepish at having gotten caught.
"Don’t mind me. Finish what you were doing." She waved magnanimously.
Flashing a savage grin, Tren turned back to his blanching victim. A few smacks and a toss later, he swiveled back to face her. Megan shook her head at him as she took in the devastation that seemed to follow in their wake. "Does this happen to you often?"
He shrugged. "More or less. I told you to stay on the ship."
"I didn’t say I minded. It does, however, explain your arsenal, and it is part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to know if you’d teach me how to protect myself. I’m starting to realize I can’t count on cops and laws to really protect me out here."
"I will protect you," he growled, his gaze narrowing in displeasure.
"For now. But what about once you sell me? You won’t be around. " His face darkened, but she forged on. "So, please, would you teach me something so I’m not so helpless?"
"You are far from helpless," he barked as he
strode away.
She hurried to catch him. "Oh, come on. You and I both know I wouldn’t stand a chance against a real bad ass."
He stopped suddenly and whirled. "A real what?"
"You know a thug. Bad guy. Vicious killer. I’d be toast in a second." She drew a finger across her throat and made a choking sound.
He snorted. "I don’t think you have much to fear. You’ve stood your ground fairly well against me."
Megan rolled her eyes. "Now I know you’re placating me. You don’t count. I mean, you might be a pirate and all, but that doesn’t make you a bad guy. I’m talking about super mean, cold hearted dicks. The kind who would hurt me in a heartbeat."
Tren choked. "You don’t consider me a danger?"
"Well, duh. You’re a nice guy for a buccaneer. I mean, sure, you’re big and annoying, but you’ve never actually done anything to hurt me."
"And what about this?" he asked splaying his arm to showcase the limping forms, and in some cases, corpses, that littered their path.
She snorted. "We’re in a den of iniquity. Attacks are to be expected. Self-defense is not a crime, so don’t feel bad."
Her words made his face twist from disbelief, to humor, to smoking intensity. A hand shot out and he grabbed a hold of her, yanking her toward him until she reeled against his chest. "Silly female. Don’t you realize I am the most dangerous thing you will encounter?" he whispered before hoisting her up for a kiss that stole her breath.
Megan forgot they stood in the middle of an alien marketplace. Forgot the violence trailing them. Forgot even her own name as his lips slanted over hers in a possessive embrace that turned her knees to jelly and sent moist heat to pool in her cleft. She curled her arms around his neck and tugged him closer. Sliding her tongue between his lips, she shuddered as he sucked it and then grazed it with his teeth.
Kissing him just never grew old. No matter how many times they touched, she could never get enough. Arousal flushed her body and made her wish for a more intimate setting, especially when a sarcastic voice intruded.
Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart Page 20