by Liza Probz
He gave his brother a withering stare. "I think the Minister of Defense has lost perspective if he thinks it wiser to dissect the only source of direct information we have rather than make use of it."
Drake stood, straightened his clothing, and returned to his console. "You're the regent. Do with her whatever you please."
Xivthar headed toward the door, hating the red stripes that appeared like deep grooves in the yellow of his skin.
"Remember, brother," Drake said from behind him as he departed, "one way or another, that female is a threat. When it comes to pass, I hope she only takes you down, and not our entire planet."
Chapter 11
Sylvie's eyes fly open as the saw buzzed far too close to her. When the scientist had activated the laser, she'd assumed he'd use it to open her up. Not so. He stood above her holding a circular bone saw with a smile on his lavender face that didn’t quite look wholesome.
"Hold still," he muttered, his eyes dragging down the length of her body.
She shivered in terror and disgust as the saw inched closer. The room started to sway though she lay still on the cold metal, the air suddenly so damn hard to breathe.
The edge of the blade made contact with her flight suit, the saw cutting through the thick fabric with ease.
The scientist giggled. Sylvie stared up at him, wide-eyed. He was enjoying this.
The saw moved down her body, cutting a long slit in her flight suit. She held as still as possible until the horrible grinding of the saw cut off. Crying seemed appropriate, but some part of her was numb to what was happening.
The alien was breathing heavily and began to tug her flight suit off of her.
"You could have used the zipper," she snapped, gaining bravado at the dumbest of times.
His face tightened for a moment, then the smug smile returned. He walked down the length of her, dragging his fingers down her flesh, chuckling again.
Closing her eyes, she tried hard to not let herself fall apart. She should beg and plead, but something was quite off with this one. Dying with dignity wasn’t going to be part of the deal. That, nor clothes.
He lifted the saw once again and flipped it on.
The bravado that had led to the zipper comment deserted her as the saw moved closer, the sound of it promising horrific pain. It seemed hungry for a victim, for her.
"Please." Her voice sounded small to her own ears, the desperation stinging the staunch academic inside of her. "Please don't hurt me."
The alien licked his lips as the saw crept closer to her chest.
Sylvie closed her eyes, desperately seeking serenity but finding nothing but panic.
She could feel the wind of the blade against her skin as it cut through the center of her bra.
"Please!"
“Stop. Now.” The sound of a familiar voice yelling above the buzz of the saw caught her attention and dragged her from the depths of her terror.
Sylvie's eyes flashed open to see that a hand had grabbed the saw, a hand that was currently disabling the device and pulling it away. A hand that had gone bright yellow.
The saw discarded, the hand flew upward, becoming a fist that smashed into the scientist's nose.
"You sick bastard," a voice said, and Sylvie's heart thrilled in her chest. X.
"You were getting off on this." X reached down and grabbed the scientist by the neck, pulling him back to his feet. "Dissecting the helpless Earthling female. I'll have you bound to the Outer Reef and let the gnarsharks have their way with you."
"Wait! Supreme One! I can explain!" The scientist was blubbering, dark green blood leaking out of both nostrils. "The dissection was authorized. I was just doing my job!"
"So you usually become sexually aroused when performing your scientific duties?"
X was in a deep rage. His skin was so bright a yellow it was almost neon. And yet, within the yellow, she thought she saw faint hints of red, small traces scattered here and there. Odd.
"I'm... I'm not aroused!"
X laughed in the scientist's face, then threw him to the ground. "You lie to your Supreme Regent? I saw what color you were when I walked in the door. You disgust me."
So purple is arousal.
The alien scientist had been turned on, anticipating slicing her open. Her mouth filled with bile and she turned her head as far as she could, wanting to throw up but not choke on her own vomit.
Not far enough. Sylvie started to struggle, unable to swallow, unable to spit.
X came to her aid, ripping open the restraints and helping to tilt her away from the table.
Sylvie rolled over, hanging her head off the table and letting loose. She heaved and heaved, emptying her stomach of the earlier meal. Her muscles refusing to relax, her body convulsing hard again and again. She'd been through too much, was too exhausted, too emotionally drained.
A strong hand brushed back her hair, before rubbing her gently on the neck.
"Dr. Cohen, are you all right?" His voice was soft, warm.
The muscles of her abdomen relaxed as her heart contracted painfully in her chest. How close had she come to dying? She needed to get the hell out of there.
"No," she said when she was able to speak again. "I'm definitely not all right."
More footsteps. More people to take in her nudity and the remains of her lunch.
"Put him in a cell, under guard’s watch," X ordered, his voice commanding.
The sick bastard of a scientist, whose skin had now flushed crimson, was taken away by the guards. She wiped at her mouth with a shaking hand, her body still in fight or flight mode, adrenalin riding her hard.
A blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and then she was in X's arms, being carried out of the examination room. She glanced toward the three aliens who'd been stationed outside of the room, working on consoles when she'd entered, confused looks on their faces.
One stepped forward, his skin flushing maroon. "Supreme One, I'm unsure why you stopped the dissection. It was sanctioned by the Minister of Defense."
X stopped and turned slowly on his heel. "And what did you think to find that wouldn't have been revealed on our scans?"
"We had to be sure," the maroon one, probably the senior scientist, said.
"I agree. And we will be. But not like this." With those words, X carried her out of the laboratory.
Sylvie watched the hallway slide by until they came to a stop under a cream and boysenberry-swirled ceiling. A familiar ceiling.
X set her down gently on the same piece of furniture as before. A waterbed of sorts. Soft padding that gently waved beneath her, soothing her.
She closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. Strong fingers grazed her chin and she reached out, wrapping her hand around his wrist, holding him in place. She couldn’t help but open her eyes, wanting to feel nearness to someone who was able and willing to protect her.
His dark eyes bore into her, the glowing ring that surrounded the black pupils seemingly expanded. "Are you hurt?"
"Yes," she said after a moment.
He scowled, his skin shifting from yellow to blue and back again. The quickness of the change made her lightheaded.
"Not physically," she said, releasing him and clasping her fingers over her stomach. "He didn't harm my body. But emotionally... I'm not sure I'll ever be the same after that."
X opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. He stroked her hair back and took hold of her hand.
"You're still shaking." He moved away from the bed, returning with a small vial in his hand, kindness on his handsome face. "Open your mouth."
Sylvie was too weak to argue, so she simply beckoned to his request.
"This will help calm you down." A couple of drops hit her tongue, and he pushed gently on her chin to close her mouth. "You should rest now."
Sylvie let the heaviness overtake her as the trembling began to lessen. The darkness beckoned her come and she obeyed.
Chapter 12
Xivthar watched as
the Earthling female slipped into sleep, her pretty face relaxing from its earlier grimace. Her shaking had ceased and she seemed to sense the truth – she was safe in his bed.
For now.
When he'd learned of the dissection from his brother, he'd hurried to the lab, unsure what he would find. If he'd been too late...
Finding Jark'Khal purple and menacing, and he'd lost his calm. Killing the fucker had seemed the better option, but he had to remain in control of himself lest Drake call him out again. He had been physically violent with an underling, which wasn’t at all the way a Supreme Regent was meant to behave. His subjects would soon take notice, no doubt.
Still, how could he control himself when he'd seen how excited the little shit had become? Cutting off her clothes, teasing her with the saw. The son of a shark had deserved that punch. Like he deserved several more.
And the scientists who had sat calmly observing, they should be punished too. Asking him why he'd stopped the dissection. He was the lone sane man in a world full of crazies.
Unless he was the crazy one.
The female moaned in her sleep, and the regent stroked a finger across her cheek, unconsciously soothing her. The lead scientist had been anxious about confronting him but had nonetheless spoken up. He'd always seemed a reasonable man before, and he'd clearly thought the dissection was the right course of action.
But it couldn't be. Even if the rest of the planet thought it was.
Xivthar ran a hand through his tendrils, closing his eyes and trying to get a handle on his wayward thoughts. He couldn't be worried about what everyone thought or he'd second-guess his every move and there wasn't time for that. The threat from the Hareema was too serious.
He had to trust his instincts.
But was it instinct, or merely his desire for the Earthling, that was driving his actions? Ever since he'd seen his first image of a human female, he'd been fascinated by them. Their even skin, their soft hair, their sensual twists and turns.
Zantharian women did not have well-developed breasts or hips. They stored their embryos outside of their bodies for most of their pregnancies, and once the eggs hatched, their young were raised in special seawater ponds, feeding off the nutrients in the pools. Therefore female Zantharians had bodies similar to their males.
But human females, they were delightfully different. Smaller. More delicate. Curvier. Something about their shapes turned him purple quicker than any Zantharian female ever had.
And this female, her creamy skin and golden hair excited him like nothing else. The curve of her hip and the roundness of her bottom had his heart beating against his ribcage with the force of a fist. And the exquisite swell of her breasts made him hard, painfully so.
He glanced up to take in the beautiful features of her face, the moments of them being in heated conversation rolling over him and making him groan. Her green eyes had shone with intelligence, her little nose cute and slightly rounded at the end. She was beautifully put together, but it had to be her pink lips that caught his attention most. They were softer than seadown. He brushed his fingers along her thick bottom lip, another moan leaving her as he did. Just the thought of her mouth on him had his cock aching under his sarong. He pressed his hand to the front of his need and let out a shaky breath.
Despite the fact that her body lit him on fire, it was her spunkiness, her cleverness that had him hooked and willing to make a few bad choices.
Addicted already. No wonder his brother was worried.
And he probably wasn't the only one anxious about the Earthling. If he allowed himself to be seen as favoring this female in the midst of this crisis, a vote of no confidence would be in his near future. He wouldn't be able to blame his subjects one bit.
There had to be some way to get the information he needed without resorting to torture or dissection. Some means of discovering whether Sylvia could be trusted. And if he found out she was lying, he would do what needed to be done, for the safety of his people.
Xivthar watched over the Earthling female's troubled sleep and began to plan.
Chapter 13
Someone was shaking her shoulder. "You can't sleep all day. We've got too much to do."
"Five more minutes," she mumbled, turning over on her stomach. Then she realized the bed was moving as she moved. Why was her bed moving?
There was a low laugh from nearby. Something else out of place. No men laughed in her bedroom. She couldn't remember if she'd ever even had a man in her bedroom.
"Come on, sleepy seal, out of bed."
Sleepy seal? That was definitely a man's voice.
Sylvie cracked one eye open.
Black eyes with glowing rims watched her. Black eyes in a green face.
This wasn't her bedroom.
Sylvie groaned, her situation rushing back to her. She was stranded on an alien planet, held captive by its inhabitants. She'd been electrocuted, stripped nearly naked, and almost dissected. Now the supreme ruler of this blasted place was shaking her awake like an indulgent father.
She threw an arm over her head. She was so over it. "Go away."
"Sylvia, you will get up this instant."
So much for indulgence.
"Stop calling me by my full name." Why did it bother her all of a sudden? "I mean, 'Dr. Cohen' is respectful enough."
"Dr. Cohen, I can't spend all day waiting on you to get up. We have serious business to attend to. I want you out of bed and sitting at the breakfast table in two minutes."
His footsteps grew distant and she finally sat up.
Sylvie vaguely remembered her surroundings from the last time she'd been carried into this room, but she now had a moment to check things out in more detail.
The bed was impressive. Large, ornate scrolling, carved out of what must be driftwood. It had to be an extravagance, as it seemed few plants grew on the small amount of dry land the planet had to offer. What passed for a mattress was some form of miniature wave pool covered by a membrane similar to those that comprised the doors. Even now it shifted subtly below her.
Sylvie hopped up, wrapping the blanket around her and strolling over to investigate an outcropping of coral. She wondered if it contained one of those displays she'd seen elsewhere. She ran a hand over it, and a holographic image was projected in front of her face.
Incomprehensible images and curly scripts she couldn't read flashed by. I guess the translation matrix doesn't extend to written language. She waved a hand at the display and it vanished.
There was a low stone table and several small items sat on its polished surface. Sylvie picked up a carving of two figures in what resembled jade. The figures looked like the inhabitants of this planet and could have been twins, except for the clothing. The figure on the right wore a sarong similar to those worn by X and his colleagues. The one on the left had tight woven shorts and two thick braids that formed a cross over the chest.
"Time's up."
Sylvie looked over her shoulder at her host. She'd forgotten how large he was, how muscular. How attractive.
"You're supposed to be eating breakfast. Not pawing through my things."
Sylvie smiled. For regent of an entire planet, he sure was an incessant nag.
"I can't come out to breakfast like this," she said, indicating the thin blanket wrapped around her torso. "And your lackey ruined my flight suit. I have nothing to wear."
X leaned back, crossing his elbows and planting one webbed foot against the wall. "Lose the blanket then."
Sylvie's jaw dropped. "And run around in my underwear?"
"It covers you adequately. Why not?"
"Look," she said, walking over to him and wagging a finger at him. "You may be perfectly comfortable running around your colony dressed in a braided skirt and nothing else, but that doesn't mean I want everyone seeing me in my unmentionables."
"Unmentionables? Is that what you humans call them? I seem to remember plenty of your species mentioning their undergarments."
Sylvie shook her head,
ignoring him. Silly man. Who cares what they’re called?
"Wait," he said, comprehension dawning on his face. "Unmentionable. Does that have something to do with that woman Victoria and her secret?"
She popped him in the chest. “I’m not wearing my underclothes in front of you or your people. Period. Just find me some clothes, okay?"
The regent stared at her for a moment, as if he was debating. He moved toward her, and for a split second she thought he might grab her and haul her out of the room as he'd done before. Instead, he passed her and entered an alcove carved out of the wall that she hadn't noticed.
When he reappeared, he had a bundle in his hands. He passed it to her but didn't release it to her right away. "I've been tolerant of your antics because you've had a rough couple of days."
Rough couple of days. He made it sound like she'd gone on vacation and had to stay at a two-star motel instead of the five-star resort she was used to.
She'd crashed, been molested and tortured.
And he'd been tolerant.
She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but he silenced her with a finger over her lips.
"I need you to behave yourself now and do what I tell you. I don't have time to babysit an ill-mannered guest."
"Guest? I thought I was a prisoner."
"Guest," he said again. "But the kind you keep an eye on, so that they don't steal the cutlery."
"Nice." She tugged the bundle away from him. "Now get out of here and let me get dressed. Then I'll start following orders, Supreme Pain in My Ass."
His eyes narrowed, but he left the room without another word. She was pushing it, but something in her was ready to fight back. Too bad it was her rescuer who was getting the brunt of her attitude.
She let out a short puff of air and unfolded the bundle to see what she'd be saddled with.
It was woven from the same material as all the other clothing she'd seen. She had expected it to be coarse, but the seaweed was actually quite supple. She slid into the shorts and was glad to find the material stretched. It hugged her hips and was tight on her behind, but beggars couldn't be fashionistas.