by Erin Tate
“You are leaking.” Kede translated for her.
“I… What? I’m not…”
Kede turned his attention to the flooring and saw that Joyce was, indeed, leaking. The gray biopad that covered the flooring easily revealed the red fluid escaping her, the stain remaining until the ship absorbed the liquid.
“She is injured,” he informed his second commander.
“Shall I alert medical?” Suthta’s concern was evident in his tone. While warriors did not join with females, the need to care and protect them lived inside their light blessed souls.
Kede wanted to say no and his body fought his mind. He knew she needed repairs, but his arms threatened to keep her captive. If he took her to medical, others would touch her and explore the body that belonged to him.
He had claimed her on the surface and by Planetary Collective decree, she was now his property. He wanted to draw his claim even further now. He would review the data files to determine sexual compatibility and then he would…
“What did he say now?” Another poke to his chest. She truly was a brave female.
“He asked if he should alert medical.”
“I’m fine.”
Kede shook his head. “You are leaking.” He turned his attention to Suthta and deliberately used Terran language. “Inform them we are on our way.”
Joyce would be a permanent part of the Vehly crew. She would learn Doshan through her implant, but full assimilation would take several days. For now, his males would have to make use of their rusty Terran.
He strode toward the metallic door and as they automatically parted for him, he called to Suthta over his shoulder. “Have Ambassador Martins meet us there.”
At Suthta’s grimace, Kede gave him an apologetic look. The female Terran ambassador was not well liked by his crew. It was fortunate she was not chosen by him and would not be on his ship long. She was due for transfer when one of the Doshan transport ships entered the area.
The Vehly would have a single permanent Terran ambassador on board—Joyce Enner.
Though she did not seem to understand her position. Perhaps he had not expressed himself clearly. His Terran left much to be desired.
However, she did not seem happy to be on a ship as others had reported when they acquired their ambassadors. Others were overjoyed. No, she must not understand. Though staring at her and noting her fear, he believed she would mimic the futhide or ptolen once her future was explained. Perhaps both. He would consult engineering and have them develop a device to silence her at that time.
Kede strode down the passageway, careful of his burden. His crew immediately jumped aside and dove into doorways at his approach, ensuring they were out of his path. Once they regained their feet, they saluted him, pressing their fists over their hearts.
He recognized the devotion behind each soldier’s move. He was an unwavering and commanding officer, but fair. He consistently went into battle and brought every male within his command home breathing. Some were damaged, but they lived.
He approached the transport lift and the ship immediately recognized his presence. A pod was presented for his entry within moments and he stepped inside, barking his destination.
“Medical.”
“Where are you taking me? Why did you take me?”
Kede stared into her wide, pale eyes. The color—blue in her language—reminded him of the Doshan twin moons. They sparkled and glowed and he wondered if they would darken or brighten when consumed by pleasure.
He searched his limited vocabulary. “Healer.”
“Doctor?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yes.” She understood. Now she would calm.
“I could see a doctor on Earth. I mean Terra.” She was quick to correct herself.
“No, you were chosen. Chosen see Doshan healers.”
“I don’t understand ‘chosen.’”
“Soon.” He wished he knew more words, ones that would put her at ease.
Ambassador Martins would know what to say. The crew did not care for her attitude and behavior, but Martins would surely assist a fellow Terran.
The pod slowed and a low, almost inaudible tone announced their arrival. The moment the doors whooshed open, he strode from their transportation and into medical. Already two medicos were present, waiting for him.
“Commander?” the male on the left spoke.
“Medico Resane. Joyce Enner was injured on Terra and is leaking.”
The woman in his arms poked him once again. The female truly had no fear. “I understood my name and leaking. I’m fine.”
Kede ignored her. “Ambassador Martins will arrive shortly to assist in translation.”
The medico grimaced. Once again, he flashed an expression of understanding. Had he chosen Ambassador Martins, he would have already returned her to the surface. However a high council member selected her to be the primary council ambassador to Terra. He was merely instructed to hold her for transportation from Terra to Dosha. There was nothing Kede, even with his many honoriums, could do. He hoped the bright light blessed her transport ship with fast travels.
“Acknowledged, Commander Tria.” Resane gestured toward the platform. “Lay her here for examination.”
“Wait!” Joyce struggled. “I know that word, too. I will not be probed.”
Probed. He was unfamiliar with the word. When Resane paled, anger making his face lighten, he realized the male understood her words. “Medico?”
“Violated, Commander. As part of an examination.”
Rage filled him, heat immediately following the emotion. That she would think a Doshan would ever dare violate a female… It did not deserve a thought.
“No,” he shook his head as he carefully placed her on the platform. Unfortunately, she clung to him like a waebeke. When frightened, the creature was known to wrap its multiple arms around an object and never release. There were times they were physically sliced lest they kill their unintended target.
“Joyce, no harm.”
“Probing will hurt me,” she yelled the words and he growled, cursing himself for not learning more of her language. He’d depended on the implants allowing for easy conversation with his chosen ambassador.
More of her internal fluids escaped and she leaked all over the platform. It performed its intended function, absorbing the liquid to keep the surface clean.
“No,” he formed the word in his mind, imagined his lips repeating the syllables. “No probing. See to hurts. Fix.”
Joyce paused in her struggles and stared at him, giving him a narrow-eyed, skeptical glare.
He must have said the right words as she ceased her struggles. At least, he hoped they were correct. He recalled hearing Terran males talk about “fixing” their vehicles. He prayed to the bright light that the term applied to Terran beings as well.
“That’s it? You’ll only touch me where I’m hurt? Nowhere else?”
Kede shook his head even as he wished the medicos would examine her elsewhere. Something about Joyce Enner called to him, made him think of things he’d long ago discarded as impossibilities.
“Scan body for hurts. Heal peds.”
“Peds?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.
Now free of her fierce grip, he pointed toward her peds her… what did Terrans call them? “Feet.”
“Peds?” Now it was a question, as if she was trying to understand him. As if she wanted to understand him.
“Yes. Feet. Peds.” He smiled, happy that they’d managed to come to an understanding about this, at least.
Joyce’s eyes widened, the blacks growing and her breath halted for a moment. He shot his gaze to the medico. Was she more injured than he believed? He should have transported directly to medical instead of the command level.
“What is wrong with her?” His words were fired off rapidly and he didn’t care that his little Terran didn’t understand. He could hear the speedy beat of her heart.
Resane rushed to his console, depressing buttons and
inputting orders, commanding the machine.
The soft clearing of a throat, one that was not masculine nor under his authority, drew their attention and he found Ambassador Martins standing near the entrance. “She thinks you’re hot. Gorgeous? She’s aroused. Needing?”
The words were a mixture of Terran and Doshan. He understood every other syllable, but the last expression alarmed him.
He stared at the female, weighing the sincerity in her words. Terrans had a Needing? The idea shocked him and yet… He returned his attention to Joyce. Her face was flushed, not with pain regardless of her leaking peds. A light sheen of sweat coated her temple. Her chest did rise and fall with quick breaths while her pulse beat rapidly at her throat. Her gaze remained centered on him, delving into him.
Yes, it appeared possible…
Doshan females went through a Needing, a time in their lives when it was a biological necessity to join with a male.
He must secure her far from other males or they would take advantage. Kede shifted his attention to Resane and the other medico, glaring at the males. Joyce’s attention shifted from him and he nearly growled. He wanted her full attention, her focus.
She could not look at any other male. If she endured a Needing like Doshan females, she would sate it with him and him alone. He did not acknowledge that he wanted to satisfy her every Needing until the end of their days.
Chapter Two
Joyce glared at the woman standing near the door-thing.
She thinks you’re hot. Gorgeous? Blah, blah, blah…
“Thanks for that,” Joyce snapped.
The stranger raised a single brow.
Stranger? Hell, that word was too generic considering everyone she’d come in contact with were unknown to her. Five minutes on what she assumed was a Doshan ship and she was confronted with the woman by the door-ish, Commander Tria, the guy on the command deck thingy, and two guys who could possibly be doctors of a sort. The commander explained they were healers. He also promised no probes. She did not sign up to be probed by aliens.
Then again, she hadn’t signed up for anything, had she? No, dammit.
And yet, here she was, laid on an altar like a sacrificial lamb, destined to be probed in her exit-only place.
The bitch who announced her desire for touches in her private places flashed an evil grin. “You’re welcome.” She strode forward, ignoring the doctors and the commander at Joyce’s side. “Ambassador Martins.”
The chick extended her hand and that’s when Joyce realized she still clung to the commander like a spider monkey. Heat flushed her cheeks and she slowly forced her fingers to release him. With a soft, whispered apology, she pulled back and leaned away to put space between them.
“Joyce Enner.” She grasped the woman’s hand and gave it a gentle shake. Up close and personal, Joyce finally realized she wasn’t looking at another Doshan. Her skin was deeply tanned like the aliens, but her eyes matched each other. “You’re human!” She sighed. “Thank God, please tell them to take me back. A cut foot doesn’t deserve a trip to space and whatever this choosing thing is, I am not a to-go box. No training, no passing go and no getting a raise has happened here. I’m a temp.”
“Choosing? You… They had…” The woman’s face flushed red and then just as quickly returned to its normal color. “I don’t recognize you from any of the training sessions or the files detailing the hopefuls.”
“I don’t…” Joyce shook her head. “Yeah, I’ve talked with a couple of ambassadors in training and read some files, but look, I’m a secretary. I make coffee and take notes for Director Wardsen and I’ve only been doing that a week.”
She obviously knew of the women in training, it was the purpose of Norbeach, but with her limited involvement in the program, it was sort of an abstract concept. Like dieting or doing cardio. They existed, yet…
The ambassador narrowed her eyes and compressed her lips until they were a thin, pale line dissecting her face. “You haven’t been trained? Haven’t been through the program? Did you even complete your out processing?”
No. She couldn’t mean that training or that program or… out processing. As in out of the damned atmosphere? No, this chick had to mean orientation for all base employees. Because she wasn’t… She’d never… She liked living in Florida. She didn’t want to end up on a s-s-spaceship.
“I’m a secretary,” she reiterated her job title. Sure, the world tried to be all politically correct and call her an administrative assistant, but she was a damned secretary. There was no point in pretending.
“Chosen.” The commander grunted and then he turned toward one of the doctors, barking out what had to be an order in Doshan. Suddenly the other two men were on the move, their hands reaching for her, one or two palms actually managing to touch her.
“No, we talked about this.” Panic assaulted her once again and she kicked at the males attempting to capture her. “No probing! You don’t need my arms to fix my feet!”
She slapped at one man’s hands while the other continued to fight with her good leg. “Stop it. Bad alien. No treats for you. Quit it.”
Joyce really should have taken some sort of self-defense course so she could bust out super-amazing kung-fu moves. Instead, she’d smack the massive alien to death. “I said no. Quit touching me. Exit only, damn you!”
The commander growled and she paused in her defense. Hell, all three of them froze, waiting to see what the biggest, baddest motherfucker was going to say. Joyce focused on him, noting the way his eyes seemed brighter and glowed.
“Calm.”
That was it? That was his big attempt at resolving the situation? How the hell had he become the commander of a massive space ship? Calm. Lame.
One of the doctors twitched and Joyce went back to protecting herself, tugging, pushing, and smacking the men as much as she could. “No. I’m fine. Perfect even. Stop touching me.” She fluttered her hands in a rapid attack. “This is workplace sexual harassment!”
“Calm her,” the commander growled again and it was a repeat of before. Big guy huffing, everyone else freezing and holding their breaths to see what’d happen. Those irises were even more vivid, the color intense. Except, this time, he wasn’t glaring at Joyce and the docs. His attention was focused on Ambassador Martins. “Calm her.”
The ambassador looked from the commander to Joyce and back again. “Interacting with Doshan appropriated, excuse me, hired Terrans is not part of my job. I act as an intermediary—”
“Between Terra and the high council.” The way the commander finished the woman’s sentence made Joyce think that it was one often repeated.
Basically, a nice way to say “not my job, man.”
Goody.
“Leave.” He growled at the ambassador and the woman didn’t even flinch beneath the weight of his rage.
“Good luck. You’ll need it.” The woman gave her a wicked grin, but Joyce saw rage lurking in her eyes.
Now she was alone with the three males. Again.
She was locked in a small room with two doctors and the male who’d “appropriated” her. They stole her. She was doomed to a life of alien sex slavery, never to be heard from again. If she had a family, she’d weep over losing them. If she had pets, she’d cry and demand they be cared for. Hell, if she had a plant, she’d beg to have Suzy in accounting be notified so she could water the thing.
Since she had none of that, she simply sniffled and a lone tear escaped her right eye. Which caused the two doctors to gasp and the commander to release a string of words she was sure translated to a wonderful flow of fucks, shits, and damns in Doshan. Somehow cursing was universal.
“More leaking,” the commander growled.
That had her growling. “Look. I get that you can’t understand me, so I’m gonna lay it out for you. At worst, you understand me and send me out an airlock. At best, you glare some more. My foot isn’t leaking, I’m bleeding. I cut my foot. Terra has amazing things called Band Aids. Slap one on and send me
home. My eyes,” she pointed at her still teary eyes, “aren’t leaking, I’m crying. Because you stole me. I was stumbling along, minding my own business and cursing the existence of concrete and then your stupid, sexy ass had to get in the way and…”
She sniffled some more. She was gonna cry. Gut-wrenching sobs were on their way and she couldn’t hold them back. How the hell would they take her with snot dripping from her nose? She’d really be leaking then.
“Sexy? I know this word.” The gorgeous, mismatch-eyed male purred.
Were Doshans secretly shapeshifters and no one bothered to tell the world? Purring?
Wait. He knew that word? “Of course, that’s what you understand.”
She sniffled and one of those gut-wrenching sobs wiggled its way up her body. No, she wasn’t going to have a breakdown in the middle of her probing.
The commander reached for her and she didn’t have enough “give a shit” left in her to move. It was going to happen. Whatever “it” was, anyway. Probing, plugging holes because she was leaking. Something was going down and it wasn’t as if she could stop it. The human woman, who she figured would have at least helped, merely walked away with a “good luck.” She translated that to “fuck you, evil whore who is stealing the job I wanted.”
Martins had stared at Commander Tria a little too long.
The doctors gaped at Joyce. The commander looked at her like she was chocolate fudge and he had the biggest sweet tooth known to man. Er, alien.
He cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek and spreading her tears. “Your eyes are broken?” She shook her head as much as she could. “Then no more leaking.”
She hiccupped. “I’d stop if I could.”
That earned her a frown and then his attention shifted to the doctors, specifically the one she thought he called Resane. He rattled off a bunch of words she didn’t understand and that fact had more tears emerging from her eyes. She was going to be an alien sex slave for years and she wouldn’t even know if they were saying, “Ooh, baby, ooh, baby,” or, “You have a fat ass, lose some weight.”
Maybe not knowing was best.
Finally the commander finished speaking at—since he didn’t let the other men get a word in edgewise—the doctors and returned his gaze to her. “Sleep.”