by Lynn Best
By the time the song was over and the music finished, Brandy was out of breath and filled with elation. She hadn’t done a routine since one of Charis’s first nights and that disastrous party with Rahan. It felt good to be back up again.
Dropping down, she stood before Tork, panting a little and regarding him expectantly.
He did not look happy.
“Didn’t you like it?” she asked, pushing the hair out of her face.
Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think this is a game?”
Brandy put her hands on her hips. “Of course not. I just thought—”
“What you thought was my brother would like a circus act, is that it? A man who keeps his own people enslaved, and you think he’d like … whatever that was.” He gestured at the fabric angrily.
All her hope deflated. “A lot of men like it.”
“Human men? Or men like Wrek maybe. Not Drake.” Tork turned his head, lighting a cigarette. He puffed on it in frustration.
“Then you tell me,” she said. “You tell me what Drake likes.”
“You want to know?” He squinted at her through the smoke.
“I’m asking, aren’t I?” She was mad. Nothing she did was right, and this whole situation was a nightmare. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You want to know what Drake likes?” Tork took a last long drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground. “Drake likes this.”
He crossed the gap between them in three long strides. One hand slipped behind her head as the other wrapped around her back. Then he pulled her in and kissed her.
At first, she was mad at the suddenness of it. At his lack of concern for her consent. But all that melted away as he kissed her. She had known her body wanted Tork, but nothing could’ve prepared her for what it would do when she was in his arms.
6
Brandy couldn’t believe what she was doing. She was supposed to be preparing to entice Drake, not make out with Tork. But make out with him, she was.
Tongue, lips, teeth, it was all one blur of passionate desperation. Like he wanted to consume her, and she was loving every minute of it. Nobody turned her on like Tork. Not Wrek. Not even Rahan. He was everything she’d sought after in a man—a little bit of danger mixed with a dash of sadness and a whole lot of heat. She gripped his lapels and pulled him closer.
One large hand snaked around her neck, buried in her hair as the other wrapped around her back. His mouth enfolded her, opening, his tongue searching. She returned the kiss, her hands grasping his shirt desperately. His fingers trailed down to the sensitive skin on the small of her back as his mouth left a path of kisses down her neck.
She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to. Her whole body yearned for him to take it farther. She pulled him in closer.
He shook his head and let go of her, taking a step back. “This is a mistake.”
She reached for him, her head spinning. “Tork, don’t go.” Grabbing, she caught his muscular arm and whirled him around. Anger darkened his face before his eyes were once again tracing over her lips and breasts.
Her hands sought out the straps of the leotard, pulling down one strap and then the other. With the fabric barely clinging to her body, she began a dance she’d perfected after years of training, a striptease, while he watched. She knew her body did things to men. It was a weapon, one of the only ones she had at her disposal. Panting, she watched as his gaze traveled hungrily across the vast expanse of skin. With excruciating slowness, she removed her leotard.
Tork watched her with rapt attention for a few seconds before striding over.
With a low growl, he picked her up with one arm, driving her back to the wall. His body pressed to hers with delicious weight as he ground into her. Bringing her legs around his waist, she thrust her hips up, rubbing against him. He was a thick hot length stroking against all the right places.
Her hands tugged at his shirt, drawing it over his head. His chest was a rock-hard wall of muscle. And those tattoos. So sexy she wanted to bite each one. When she ran her hands over his nipples, he shivered.
His hands worked on his pants frantically, yanking so hard the fabric ripped. Wanting them flesh to flesh, her hands helped urge them off.
“Hurry,” she ordered.
His eyes darkened like he didn’t like being told what to do, but he obeyed nonetheless.
His pants dropped to the floor and then his boxer briefs. God, his member was just as enormous as she expected, but she only got a brief glance before he pressed himself against her, his shaft wavering close to where she wanted it to go.
But up against the wall like this, the angle was wrong. He picked her up again, this time lowering her to the floor. No time for a bed.
She felt his hands reach out for something, feeling the soft caress of fabric as Tork drew the long silk toward them. The same silk she’d used to slither on to do her acrobatic, he used to tie her hands together. Wrists bound above her head, she had no choice but to submit to his whims, a thought that nearly made her come just thinking it. She was his to do with what he wished. Brandy stared up at Tork, getting lost in his dark eyes.
He gazed at her bound, naked body, but his desire seemed to get the best of him. Tork fit his knees between her thighs and urged them open.
When his mouth fit over hers, his breath intoxicated her, and her head whirled deliciously. A throaty moan escaped her lips as he ran his hand over her bare thighs and between her legs. Arching up into his hand, she gasped. She could barely keep up with his touch. His mouth was on her nipple just as his fingers found her wetness.
Both sensations at once were almost too much. She bucked against his hand, urging it to go faster, harder. Then his fingers retreated and he slipped down her body, covering her stomach and hips with his tongue.
Oh God, she was going to explode before he’d even entered her.
She wanted to wrap her hands around his throbbing erection and aim it home, but she was bound. He seemed to sense what she was asking for. Slowly, he crawled up her body, his arms on either side of her head, the tip of his erection hovering at her core. Locking eyes with her, he slid it home.
It gave her chills that ran the length of her body. One moan and he thrust up until his full length was inside her, stretching, pulling, lighting her on fire. It was like her whole body was electrified with the best kind of pleasure. It tore through her like a riptide, making her muscles convulse.
“Oh, God!”
He pounded into her with wild, frantic pulses.
The building ecstasy exploded like a supernova. She came clamped around him, riding his pleasure as her own filled her senses again and again.
He climaxed with her, his whole body tightening and pulsing. The growl she’d heard before rumbled in his chest as he arched over her.
When he finished, his head sagged and he placed his forehead against hers. She pressed her head against his, feeling something like happiness for the first time since being taken.
But he pulled away, standing up and grabbing his clothes. Leaning up, she watched him, alarm growing as she saw how angry his expression was becoming.
“Tork, is everything okay?”
He whirled on her, flashing his teeth. His eyes were red and pulsing, as if he were going to shift into one of those beasts. She sat up in alarm. Her hands were still bound.
“See what you made me do?” he growled, stalking to the wall.
“Tork, what is happening?” She scrambled against the knot at her wrists, trying to loosen it.
The wall opened, and he strode through naked. She tried to get her wrists free to be able to run after him, but he placed his hand on the outside wall and closed it to seal her in.
“Tork!”
There was no answer.
She freed herself from the silks eventually, ordered new clothes from the simulator, and got dressed. With nothing else to do, she passed the time requesting food she didn’t eat.
What had
she done wrong to make him storm out? The sex had been hot—there was no denying that. But maybe she’d given in too quickly? Men were terrible that way, always wanting sex but liking the chase more. Women shouldn’t make them wait too long, or they’d accuse them of being teases. But if they gave it up too quickly, they were called whores. They couldn’t win for losing.
The questions swirling around her brain were killing her.
She picked at a steak, tearing it apart with her fingernails until it was a bloody mess. There was no time for sitting around pouting. She was supposed to learn how to please Drake before he recovered from his wounds, yet she was wasting time in an empty simulator room. Who the hell knew where Wrek and Tork were? Tork had locked her in. Left her. He didn’t care. She should’ve figured with the type of guy he was.
When the wall started to dissolve, she got up, expecting Tork, but it was Wrek on the other side.
She tried not to show her disappointment when he walked in. “Hey, Wrek. How’s it going?”
“Tork left you in here? I’m so sorry, Brandy. I could kill my brothers.”
Brandy shrugged, wiping her hand on a napkin. “Did Tork tell you?”
He shook his head, glowering. “I had to find out from a guard. Tork wouldn’t even face me, the coward. And he’s supposed to be the brave one. I could kill him for leaving you. What happened? Did he not think you were up to the task?”
Brandy blushed, realizing Wrek didn’t know what had transpired right over there on the floor. “He got mad at me, but I’m not really sure what I did. I thought I was doing what he wanted.”
Wrek ran a hand through his chin-length hair. “That’s Tork for you. Hot and cold. His mother is the same way.”
“Is she here?” Brandy asked, thinking of Han’s mother and Kahn’s. Both were as strange as they were terrible. She wondered if spending enough time with these alien men did that to a woman. They made women mad with their strange ways and fluctuating emotions.
“Tork’s mother is back on the home planet.”
“What about your mother?” she asked.
“She is dead.” Wrek swallowed, his eyes darting away.
“Oh, I’m really sorry.”
He dismissed her comment with a shake of his head and took her hand sweetly. “I have something I’d like to show you.”
She smiled, appreciating how much he doted on her. “What would I do without you?”
His cheeks flushed.
“This way.” He drew her to the open wall and led her through it.
They walked down the hall. Brandy searched for Tork or Drake or any of those alien guards, but the hallway was quiet. She wondered what the time was. She’d gotten into a bit of a rhythm on Rahan’s ship, sleeping and waking at the same time every day until it felt almost normal. The simulation rooms could project sunshine that felt real, and her circadian rhythms had leveled out. But here, she was all out of whack again, no semblance of normalcy. She could feel her mood slipping into something dark and brooding. Normally perky and upbeat, she couldn’t muster her usual enthusiasm. Plus, there was the fact she was a prisoner suffering at the whims of aliens who were not particularly nice. Would Han ever come for her? There’d been no sign so far that he was even attempting a rescue.
But Wrek’s hand was warm, and he kept glancing at her shyly when he didn’t think she’d notice. She trusted him. In fact, he was the only one on the ship she trusted. She really hoped this surprise of his would not let her down.
They stopped, and he opened the wall. As the space disintegrated, they were met with a wall of darkness. Wrek pulled her toward it, but she hesitated.
“It’s a good surprise,” Wrek said, smiling. “I really think you’ll like it. It seemed like you might need something to keep your spirits up.”
Brandy gave in and inched into the dark room. Wrek sealed it up and turned on the lights.
Gasping, Brandy brought her hands to her mouth.
She could hardly believe her eyes. The space they were standing in appeared exactly like the house she’d lived in for a good part of her childhood. The little ranch on Elm Street had been where all her best and most cherished memories were formed. It was the place where her mom and stepdad had been happy. Where’d they’d all been a family together before her stepdad died and her mother had gotten into pills. Seeing it now, she felt like crying and leaping for joy all at once.
There was the little kitchen with the almond-colored refrigerator and the kitchen island where her mother prepared meals. And to the right was the little living room with pink shag carpet where she’d played endless hours with her Barbies. The big boxy TV was in the center with her stepdad’s battered leather recliner angled toward it just waiting for him to plop inside.
She approached the chair, touching the worn armrests as tears sprang to her eyes. Her stepdad had been dead at least fifteen years, but seeing this chair made her feel like he could walk into the room at any minute. She scanned the area, half hoping he would. Her eyes landed on Wrek, who watched her.
“You did all this,” she asked, wiping away the tears, “for me?”
His smile broadened, his purple eyes twinkling. “Do you like it?”
“It’s amazing.” She couldn’t stop taking in every detail. There was her mother’s Reader’s Digest collection lined up by month along the shelves in the living room. And the stairs. If she walked up them, would she find her old bedroom?
“How did you do this?” she asked, lifting a mug from the coffee table and inspecting it. The burnt sienna color was something straight out of the eighties.
“I’ve invented a device that can scan people’s memories and replicate things found there. It only works on places we know well where the memory is strong.”
She started, feeling as if he’d peeped in her window. “You scanned my memories?”
A blush burned up his cheeks, letting her know he sensed he was in trouble. “When you first arrived, yes. Drake ordered me to, so he could find any weaknesses Han might have. But you didn’t know much about Han. Now I know why.”
“Well, I guess if Drake ordered you to.” She was still miffed he went into her mind without her knowledge, but it really wasn’t Wrek’s fault. He was Drake’s pawn.
“What else did you see?” she asked, worried about the answer. All those men from her previous profession were stored in her brain. Did Wrek see them? All the nights flat on her back, faking her enjoyment? What would he think of her?
“I didn’t see much else. It was a quick scan.”
“Please don’t do it again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wringing his hands.
“I forgive you.” She put her hand on his shoulder gently. “It feels surreal standing here. It’s like I’m eight years old again. Like if I looked out that window, I’d see Fred Cutler riding his bike around the cul-de-sac.” She walked over to the front window, but there was nothing outside but grass and trees. Emotions were still swirling inside her, bittersweet memories mingled with the confusion of the day. What she wouldn’t give to go back to being small. To be able to crawl onto her mother’s lap and be wreathed in her arms. To smell her stepdad’s pipe smoke and hear the murmur of his TV shows as she went to sleep. She needed something like that right now.
Leaning in, she put her head on Wrek’s shoulder. Tentatively, he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled in. Sighing, she soaked in the feeling of being comforted. Wrek was steadfast. His arms were cords anchoring her down. It was exactly what she needed.
The ship rocked beneath their feet. They both stumbled, Wrek trying to stabilize her as he glanced up with concern on his face.
“What was that?” Brandy asked.
Wrek let her go, hurrying to the wall. He touched it, drawing out lights and symbols that he seemed to understand. “We’re under attack.”
“What?” Brandy asked, panic pumping through her veins.
Wrek nodded. “It’s Han. He’s here.”
7
The ship shook again, this time more violently. Wrek opened the wall and started through it.
“Wait,” Brandy called. “What do I do?”
He turned as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Stay safe.” Then he bolted out of the room and sprinted down the hall.
Brandy ran to the entrance, but the ship rocked again, pitching her onto the floor. While the ship rumbled, she stayed on her knees, starting a prayer she hadn’t spoken in years. They were going down. She was going to die. Hail Mary, full of grace…
But the ship leveled off and the rumbling stopped. She stood up, clinging to the wall. When the ship didn’t toss her to the ground, she left the room and continued toward where she’d seen Wrek disappear.
The walls were pulsing a purplish-red. There were no alarms going off that she could hear, but walls were opening and aliens, both humanoid and beast, were exiting them. At first, Brandy was nervous she’d meet one like the monster that had attacked Drake, but they were all too busy to notice her. It took her a while to find the bridge, the place where she’d first been beamed on board.
It was in pure panic mode. Aliens were rushing around, tending to symbols on the walls that were flashing red. Wrek had his hands on a large white board rising out of the floor. He was clearly doing something important judging by his expression. Tork rushed in, pulling a shirt over his impressive muscles. He went right to Wrek, and they started talking in hushed tones.
Brandy huddled against the wall, not moving. She didn’t want to be noticed or pushed out, but she also wanted to be close if Han came aboard. Excitement built in her chest. Han was coming to get her.
But as the ship rocked again and more warning signs flashed, it occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t coming to get her. Maybe he was just here to destroy them. After all, if Drake was after Charis, it would be easier to blow up the whole ship than to attempt a rescue. Han could abduct Charis a new best friend.