by Anna Zaires
What would happen the next time Zaron tried to seduce her? And he would try, she was certain of that. Would she be able to stop him? Would she want to stop him? She had never before been so attracted to a man, had never felt that desperate, all-consuming need. Sex had always been something Emily enjoyed, but what she’d experienced today was nothing like the tepid encounters she’d had with Jason. It was more of a conflagration that had nearly burned her alive.
And she had seen the same kind of uncontrollable hunger in his eyes. One way or another, he was going to have her.
Emily wasn’t sure if the knowledge excited or terrified her.
Chapter Fourteen
For dinner, Zaron ordered a wide variety of dishes designed to appeal to Emily’s palate. The only foods missing were animal products of any kind. He’d tried meat twice during his time on Earth, but he couldn’t get used to the unpleasant taste and texture. He had no idea how humans in the developed nations had become so carnivorous in the past few decades; it was certainly not something anyone on Krina had anticipated. To this day, it amazed him that Emily’s species thought it normal to eat meat every day—even three times a day, in some extreme cases.
When everything was ready, he went to get Emily.
He found her lying on her stomach, reading something on the tablet. She’d changed into a white dress, and her small feet were bare, her pink toes flexing rhythmically against the blanket as she hummed something to herself.
“Emily.” He said her name softly, not wanting to startle her, but she still jumped, quickly turning over and sitting up to look at him. “Dinner is ready.”
“Okay, great.” Bending down, she pulled on her sandals and got up. “I’m looking forward to it.” Her tone was upbeat, but Zaron noticed that she was trying not to look at him. She was determined to maintain a distance between them, he realized with dark amusement.
They sat down at the table, which was already loaded with dishes. “Wow, this meal is more like a feast,” she said in amazement, putting a few bites of everything onto her plate. “Do you normally eat like this?”
“No,” Zaron admitted, reaching for a Cucurbita pepo stuffed with roasted Pleurotus ostreatus—or, as Emily likely thought of it, zucchini with oyster mushrooms. “I ordered this for you. I wanted to make sure you enjoy the meal.”
She looked surprised, but then a quick, radiant smile flashed across her face. “Thank you. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, though. I’m about as far from a picky eater as it gets.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “I’ll eat anything. Just give me food and I’m there.”
“Why? Did you ever go hungry?” Zaron inquired curiously. According to her driver’s license, she lived in the United States, one of the more affluent human nations.
She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “A few times. One of the foster homes where I lived had a very strict food rationing policy. They had twelve kids living with them, and they were always running out of funds.”
“Foster homes?” Zaron tried to remember if he’d ever heard of that particular human institution. It seemed to imply that she had lived away from her family—something he hadn’t come across in the basic background check he’d run on her in the beginning.
She nodded but didn’t explain. Instead, she asked, “How is it that you speak English so well? I assume it’s not your native language.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Her attempt to change the topic was beyond transparent, but Zaron decided to allow it and made a mental note to research foster homes later. “I have a little implant that acts as a translating device.”
“An implant? Like in your brain?”
Zaron smiled. “Exactly.”
“That’s incredible.” She appeared excited now. “Do you speak other languages too?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
She gasped, her mouth falling open. “Every single language out there?”
“Yes,” Zaron confirmed, enjoying her reaction. “Every language that currently exists and a few that have died out.”
She blew out her breath. “Holy shit…” Shaking her head in amazement, she began to eat.
For the next few minutes, there was only companionable silence as they demolished the dishes sitting on the table. Zaron noticed that Emily took a second serving of a salad made of Beta vulgaris bulbs and dried Vitis vinifera berries. No, a salad made of beets and raisins, he mentally corrected himself. He often had trouble taking off his scientist hat, but it was better to use common names for edible plants.
“That was amazing,” Emily said, pushing her empty plate away. “It looks like your people like to eat well.”
“We do.” Zaron gave her a slow smile. “We tend to enjoy all aspects of life to the fullest, and gratifying the senses is a big part of that.”
A faint flush brightened her pale cheeks. “I see.”
Zaron’s smile faded as his body reacted to the sight. He could tell the girl was thinking about what had taken place earlier; he could hear her rapid heartbeat and see the pulse throbbing visibly in the side of her neck. The skin in that tender area looked soft, inviting to the touch, and the urge to slice his teeth across it and taste the richness of her blood was so strong that Zaron almost reached for her.
As though sensing his hunger, Emily shifted in her seat, moving back from the table. Her hand tightened on the utensil she was holding, and Zaron forced his tense muscles to relax. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to restrain himself in her presence, but he had no intention of losing control and leaping on her like some savage. It had not even been a full day since she’d woken up, and she was undoubtedly overwhelmed by everything. He needed to give her more time.
“Zaron,” she said quietly, her eyes glued to his face, “can you tell me more about yourself? What exactly are you doing here on Earth? What are your people like?”
Zaron considered how to best answer her questions. The official post-arrival disclosure protocol was still being worked out, but he knew that the Council didn’t intend to reveal much to the general human public, so he needed to be careful.
“I already told you we’re here to formally meet your species for the first time,” he said. “As far as what we’re like, that’s like asking you what humans are like. It’s not easy to list all of your own attributes.”
“But how are you different from me?” she persisted. “What exactly makes a Krinar not human?”
Zaron sighed. This was going to be tricky. “Well, for one thing, the Krinar live longer,” he said, focusing on the most innocuous tidbit first. “Much longer, in fact.”
“Oh? How much longer?”
“I’m six hundred and nine years old,” Zaron said, watching as her jaw dropped in shock. “So much, much longer.”
“Six hundred years old,” she whispered, her gaze moving up and down his body. “How is it that you look so young?”
“We don’t age,” Zaron explained, leaning back in his seat. “Not like humans do. After we reach full maturity, we don’t change much throughout our lives.”
Her eyes were wide with shock. “Are you immortal?”
“No, not immortal, but we don’t die of old age. Have you ever heard of negligible senescence?”
She frowned, appearing to think about it. “The term sounds familiar. I feel like I read it somewhere recently.”
“Maybe you have,” Zaron said. “There’s some research being done into that now among your scientists. Essentially, a negligibly senescent organism doesn’t exhibit reduced reproductive capability or functional decline with age. There are several Earth species like that, so it’s not a Krinar-specific phenomenon. There’s the planarian flatworm, for instance—”
“Oh, that’s right,” she breathed, her eyes roaming over him again. “I remember reading about this now. The article speculated that tortoises may be like that—that they don’t age as they get older.”
Za
ron nodded. “Yes, precisely. The Krinar are like that, too.”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “If that’s the case, you can’t be very similar to us genetically, right?”
“No, we’re not similar to you genetically at all,” Zaron said, smiling. The girl was quick to catch on. “As far as DNA is concerned, you have more in common with a dolphin than with me.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “If that’s true, why do you want to have sex with me? And how exactly does something like that work?”
Zaron laughed softly. “It works quite well, I assure you.” Leaning forward, he reached across the table to take her slender hand. “I can’t make you pregnant, angel, but I can give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced in your life.” He slowly ran his thumb across the center of her palm, pressing lightly on the spots where he could feel tension. Women—human or Krinar—were highly susceptible to the pleasure of simple touch; it was something he’d learned centuries ago. The physical bond always began with basic skin-to-skin contact, and a smart man ensured there would be plenty of that.
To his satisfaction, Emily’s skin pinkened with arousal, her hand twitching in his grasp. Zaron could hear her breathing quickening, and his own body reacted with sharp intensity, his cock hardening in an instant. Not wanting to test his self-restraint too much, he released her hand, letting her pull it out of his reach.
“Why do you call me ‘angel?’” she asked in an unsteady voice. “Do you have such a concept on your planet?”
“No.” Zaron inhaled deeply, drawing in her warm scent. “That’s a uniquely human invention. But your coloring does remind me of some angel drawings I’ve seen here on Earth.”
An unexpected smile danced across her lips. “Are you a fan of religious art? I must say, I wouldn’t have expected that from an alien.”
“I appreciate beauty in all forms,” Zaron replied, studying her delicate features. “And I have to say, humans have managed to create some incredibly beautiful things during their short existence.”
“What about the Krinar? Do your people have art, philosophy, music?”
“Yes to all three.” He smiled at her. “Some of us dedicate our entire lives to creative pursuits, while others merely dabble in them. But either way, such contributions are highly valued—an artist is just as important in our society as a designer or a scientist.”
Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Valued how? Are they compensated financially? In general, how does your economy operate? What do you use as currency? Do you have something like a stock market?”
Zaron grinned at the barrage of questions. “We do, but it’s not nearly as important,” he said, addressing her last question. “Most businesses are privately funded, and if the project is big enough, the government gets involved. Wealth is not necessarily something we strive for; it comes with success in our chosen fields, as top experts are well compensated—both in the private sector and by the government.”
“So you don’t have capitalism?”
“Not in the same way you do.” He paused, trying to think how to best explain it to her. “Because we are so long-lived—and because our population is significantly smaller, numbering in the millions instead of billions—our society functions very differently from yours. In some ways, it’s simpler; in others, it’s more complex. All of modern-day Krina is one cohesive socio-economic unit, with all that it implies.”
She appeared fascinated. “So the entire planet is like one country?”
“More or less. We have one ruling body—the Council—and they make decisions to benefit us as a whole, as opposed to appeasing one specific region or faction.”
“Well, that’s certainly different,” she mused. “Our politicians are nothing like that. How are the members of the Council chosen? Are they elected?”
“No.” Zaron shook his head. “Those who are on the Council are there because they earned it in some way—because their contributions to society were greater than most.”
She nodded, as though it made sense to her. “So you have the smartest, highest-achieving individuals running your planet? That seems like it would be an improvement over the way we do things.”
“It works for us,” he said, and was about to delve into the concept of social standing when his wrist computer vibrated softly, reminding him of a virtual meeting he had coming up. He was supposed to convene with a defense expert and several designers to determine the best layout for the ten Centers. Annoyed at the interruption, Zaron considered canceling the meeting, but he didn’t want to risk a delay.
Reluctantly, he rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. You should rest and get some sleep. I have some work to do this evening.”
“Of course, I understand.” Getting up as well, she gave him a quick smile, and Zaron realized she was relieved for the dinner to be ending in such manner. She had probably been concerned that he would try to seduce her again, he thought with sudden irritation—and he likely would have, if it hadn’t been for this meeting.
“Well, good night then,” she said and, with a little wave, headed toward her own room. He heard her light footsteps and the sound of her kicking off her shoes, and then he went into his office, doing his best to focus on something other than the girl he wanted to fuck senseless.
* * *
Alone in her room, Emily lay down on the comfortable bed and closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind enough to fall asleep.
She’d used the futuristic bathroom again, even taking a shower there—which was an experience in itself, with the water coming at her from all directions at a perfect pressure and temperature. A variety of soaps, shampoos, and deliciously scented lotions had been applied to her skin and hair without her having to lift a finger, and warm jets of air had dried her off afterwards. By the time she was done, every part of her had been luxuriously clean, and even her mouth had felt fresh, as though she had just brushed her teeth.
Now, however, her brain refused to relax, her head buzzing with everything she’d learned today. In just a few short hours, her world had been turned upside down, and she couldn’t stop dwelling on the incredible implications of what Zaron had told her.
Earth was about to make contact with an alien race—a race that had technology and medicine far beyond anything modern science could imagine. A race that had essentially created human beings.
If Zaron was telling the truth, in seventeen days nothing would ever be the same again. Would the Krinar cure cancer? Could they end poverty and hunger? Put a stop to war? It seemed as if Zaron’s civilization had moved past such issues. Did that mean that humanity now would too? What did his people intend to say when they appeared? How were they going to reveal themselves to the public, and what would be the fallout once they did? She pictured the screaming headlines, the hysteria from end-of-the-world fanatics…
When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were a strange mix of erotic images, scenes from Independence Day, hungry lions with coal-black eyes, and three-dimensional Excel spreadsheets filled with bowls of exotic fruit.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Emily woke up with a much clearer head. To her surprise, she’d slept well, much better than could be expected under the circumstances. Apparently, her subconscious mind wasn’t particularly bothered by the thought that aliens existed—or that she was being temporarily detained by one against her will.
Getting up, she put on the clothes Zaron had provided and used the facilities. Then she approached the wall, aware of an uneasy sensation in her stomach. Knocking on the wall, she waited, her fingers nervously twisting the soft material of her dress.
The wall in front of her dissolved, creating the entryway into the living room area. Zaron was standing on the other side.
“Good morning,” he said softly, looking at her. “I hope you got good sleep?”
“I did, thanks.” Emily did her best not to stare, but it was impossible. She had somehow managed to forget how gorgeous her captor was… an
d how her body reacted to him. Already, she could feel her heartbeat speeding up, her core clenching with sudden need. She had never wanted a man like that before—so instantly, so strongly. There was nothing rational or reasonable about the heat surging through her veins; it was animal lust, pure and simple. Her mind told her that he was not human, that she still knew nothing about him or his people, but her body didn’t care.
He was dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts—a plain outfit that somehow only emphasized his dark masculine beauty. His thick hair was slightly disheveled, and his broad shoulders strained the thin fabric of the shirt, his muscles clearly defined underneath his clothing.
Swallowing, Emily stepped through the opening, trying to ignore her racing pulse.
“Would you like some breakfast?” Zaron offered, his black eyes gleaming with subtle amusement. Emily had no doubt that he was aware of her physical response to him and was enjoying it tremendously.
“Um, yeah, sure.” Emily took a deep breath. “First, though, can you please tell me where my things are? You said you have my wallet, right?” She’d realized this morning that she hadn’t seen her wallet or phone since she’d woken up here—a realization that had made her feel even more like a prisoner.
Zaron nodded and said something in his language. A second later, one of the walls opened, and a stack of her belongings floated out. Grabbing them from the air, he handed them to her. “Here you go. The clothes were damaged, but I still kept them for you. The money inside your wallet got a little wet, but I think it should be all right. This little piece of technology, though”—he pointed at her smartphone—“didn’t survive its swim in the river.”
Holding her clothes with one hand, Emily took her phone in the other and tried to turn it on. The screen remained blank, and she could feel the residual moisture in the protective case. Zaron was right: the phone was dead. Of course, if it had been functional, she doubted he would’ve given it back to her so easily.