by Tana Stone
She swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering in her chest. It wasn’t like she didn’t find the big Drexian attractive. She did. And she’d never considered herself a prude, either. But it was a pretty big leap from thinking a guy was hot and not minding the idea of hooking up with him to putting on some sort of sex show.
She studied Kos’s tall form as he stood at the glass, watching the Curator walk away, his arms folded tightly over his chest.
“So, humans and Drexians are legendary?” she asked, trying to make her voice light.
Kos twisted to look at her. “Do not worry. I will find a way to get us out before… I will find a way out of here.”
Hope scooted to the edge of the bed. “I know you’re supposed to be a super warrior, but have you taken a look around you? This is like some sort of crazy space super max prison. Xarla said no one has ever broken out.”
“Just because no one has done it, doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
Before she could argue that sometimes it meant exactly that, Zaria appeared with a smile almost as wide as those of the Curator. The red-skinned alien extended a finger, pointed it at Hope, then curled it and beckoned her forward.
“You’re with me, pretty,” she said.
Hope didn’t move from the edge of the bed, and she noticed Kos move his body so that he was between the two women.
Zaria frowned and shook her head, her black hair swinging slightly. “Don’t make me come and get you. I promise you it won’t be pleasant.”
“What do you want with her?” Kos asked, not moving.
“Relax, Drexian. I’m taking her to be prepped for the party.” Zaria rolled her eyes. “I promise I’ll bring her back just like she was. Better, in fact. We’re going to bathe her and dress her and get her all ready for you, big guy.” Her gaze shifted to Kos and raked hungrily over his body. “Any preferences we should know about? Would you like us to pierce anything while we’re at it?”
Hope let out an unwilling sound of protest, but Zaria threw back her head and laughed.
“I do not want her maimed or harmed in any way,” Kos said, his voice a dark rumble.
Zaria huffed out a breath. “No fun at all. I thought you Drexians would be a lot wilder than you are.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Although, I haven’t seen you in action. Maybe I’ll change my opinion after tonight.”
Kos growled, one side of his lip curling.
Even though Hope’s stomach was in knots, she stood. “It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. They don’t want to damage the new star of their show, right?”
Kos caught her hand as she walked past him. “Hope…”
She met his gaze, and her mouth went dry. The lights weren’t at full brightness yet, but she could see the intensity in his eyes. His hand was warm and solid holding hers. She didn’t want to let it go, but she knew she had to. She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
She cut her eyes to Zaria, who was now tapping one foot impatiently, then looked back at Kos. His body almost vibrated with frustration, and she could see his shoulder muscles bunch.
She didn’t know why she did it, but Hope leaned forward, raising herself up onto her tiptoes, and kissed him lightly on the lips. It didn’t last more than a second, but her lips were buzzing when she pulled back.
He looked stunned, and more than a bit suspicious. Not that she blamed him. The last time she’d initiated anything, she’d knocked him out and tied him up. This time, she was startled by the heat that warmed her cheeks at such a brief touch.
“Move to the back of the compartment,” Zaria said, waving at Kos as she stepped closer to the clear wall. “I don’t have to remind you what can happen if you try anything, do I?”
Kos didn’t reply but he did take a few steps back, his eyes never leaving Hope.
When Zaria seemed satisfied, she touched a button on her belt and the clear wall fronting the cell slid open. Hope stepped through it and watched as it closed behind her just as quickly, the wall locking into place. So, the door was activated externally, thought Hope. She wondered how many others could open doors with a button on their belt, and she tried to remember which button Zaria had touched. The belt she wore was studded with gold buttons, and she suspected each one did something different on the ship.
Zaria grabbed her by the elbow, jerking her forward roughly and propelling her down the spiraling ramp. The lights were on now, and once again, she could see inside the clear compartments that lined the way, although now that she was a resident of a cell herself, she made a point of not looking inside as they passed.
“So,” she said, after they’d wound their way down almost to the bottom. “I take it the beauty parlor is in the basement?”
Hope didn’t know why she made the stupid joke. Maybe to show Zaria she wasn’t scared, even though her legs were shaking?
The alien glanced over at her, then a menacing smile spread across her face. “Is that what you call it on your home world? The place where females go to be altered?”
“I guess,” Hope said, regretting opening her mouth.
They reached a set of double doors that weren’t transparent. When they paused in front, they swished open. Hope felt all sense of courage or levity drain out of her body, and she went cold.
The room looked nothing like a hair salon or beauty parlor, or any kind of place Hope had ever seen where women went to get fixed up. With lots of shiny chrome tables and aliens in what appeared to be white lab gowns and face masks, it looked more like a medical research facility. What the hell kind of things were they planning on doing to her anyway? She started to back away as several of the masked faces swiveled toward her.
Zaria nudged her through the doors with a sharp tug, then leaned close to Hope’s ear. “I have a feeling this is not going to be very much like your ‘beauty parlors.”
She gulped. She had a feeling Zaria was right.
Seventeen
Kos paced back and forth in the cell. She’d been gone too long. He crossed to the clear front and slammed his palm against the surface. “Anyone out there?”
The cells were not soundproof, and he could hear noises throughout the ship. They were preparing for the party, and every so often a burly member of the Curator’s staff would walk by carrying a crate or box. Loud clanging and banging punctuated the usual quiet, and a faint flowery scent wafted through the air. Several times already, the lights in the ship had changed color and he wondered if they were testing them out.
There were now a pair of small, high metal tables perched outside their cell as well as a cluster of stools. If he hadn’t felt like an exhibit before, he did now.
“They won’t hurt her,” the neighboring alien said from where she sat curled up on the floor. He remembered that her name was Xarla.
“How can you be sure?” He turned away from the wall to meet her eyes.
“They never damage the collection. The Curator wouldn’t allow it.” Xarla gave him a weak smile. “She might look a bit different when she returns, though.”
“Why haven’t they taken you yet?” Kos asked.
She let out a small, fluttery laugh. “I’m not the main attraction. Besides, my performance doesn’t require it. I’m surprised they haven’t removed you to be prepped, although the Curator might already think you look impressive enough in your Drexian clothes.”
Kos tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut as he glanced down at the dark pants and shirt. It had certainly looked better, but now wasn’t the time to worry about protocol. It wasn’t like he was wearing a formal uniform jacket or his decorated sash.
Zaria strode into view outside the clear wall, and Xarla slunk back deeper into her own compartment. Kos refused to be intimidated by the alien with crimson skin, even though the sight of her made him want to shudder.
“Back away from the barrier, Drexian,” the Curator’s enforcer said as she swung her long tresses off her shoulder.
“Wh
ere is the human?” he asked, not making a move.
Zaria rolled her eyes. “Your precious female is fine, although I don’t know what you Drexians see in them. They’re so small and fragile.”
Kos tamped down a surge of fury he felt building in his chest. “If you harm so much as a hair on her—”
“Relax, Drexian. Why would we want to hurt her?” Zaria grinned and looked even more terrifying. “The Curator is insistent that his performers be healthy. Makes for a better show.”
Kos clenched his jaw and his teeth ground together. “Then why has she been gone—?”
Zaria waved a hand to cut him off. “You’ll get her back, but now I need you to back away from the front so I can get you ready.”
Kos still didn’t move. “Me? But I thought—”
“Yeah, we don’t need you to think, Drexian.” She narrowed her eyes and pulled a laser whip from her belt. “Move back.”
Kos grunted his displeasure but took a few steps back as Zaria pressed her belt and the clear door slid open. She snapped the whip as she stepped inside.
Kos sized up his odds quickly. He could probably get the jump on her, even if it meant getting caught by the whip. But he didn’t know where they’d taken Hope, and no way was he escaping without her.
“Take off your shirt,” Zaria said, flicking the whip so that it made a sizzling sound.
He stared at her, and the alien sighed. “I thought your kind was supposed to be smart. Don’t tell me you’re all brawn and no brains.”
Kos’s fingers tingled with the desire to snatch the whip from her hand, but he reminded himself to keep his cool. He pulled the shirt over his head in a single, swift movement, tossing it so Zaria had to raise an arm over her head to catch it.
Her eyes flicked across his bare chest, her black pupils dilating slightly. Her tongue wet her bottom lip, which quirked up in a half smile, as she folded the shirt over one arm. “Now the pants.”
Kos refused to let her see his anger, dropping his pants briskly around his ankles and kicking them over to her without a word.
Zaria’s sly smile grew as she appraised him. “I see it’s true what they say about Drexians. You are big all over.”
Kos met her gaze without flinching. If she thought she would intimidate him, she was wrong. Even if he was standing in nothing but his tight, black boxer-briefs.
“Now, that’s better,” Zaria said. “That clothing covered too much flesh, don’t you think?”
Kos didn’t answer, although he now noticed something dark draped over her other arm. She followed his gaze. “Look familiar?”
It did not, but he caught it when she tossed it at him, holding up the dark garment and realizing that the uneven strips of leather made up a skirt of some kind. His throat constricted when he saw the metal flame pinned to one side.
“You may be our first Drexian, but that doesn’t mean the Curator has not been preparing for the time when he would host one of your kind.”
“This is…” Kos’s words died on his lips.
“What Drexian warriors wore in battle a millennium ago,” Zaria said. “Before you left your home world and became the police of the galaxy.”
Kos turned the garment over in his hands. He’d never worn a traditional Drexian kilt, but he’d heard of them. Made from animal skins, his Drexian ancestors had worn them bare-chested, with leather belts ringing their waists to hold their curved blades. His people still used curved blades, when they weren’t firing blasters, but Inferno Force was the only division of their military that had retained the flame insignia all Drexians used to wear on their battle kilts. Seeing this garment made him both proud to be a Drexian and disgusted that his first experience wearing the traditional battle garb would be as a captive of the Curator.
Zaria snapped her whip to get his attention, and Kos numbly stepped into it, fastening the kilt so it sat slightly below his waist.
“Mmmm.” Zaria practically purred as she looked at him. “I prefer you like this, Drexian—rough and primal. Let’s just hope your little human isn’t too terrified when she sees you.”
She laughed as she backed out, closing the transparent barrier behind her. When she’d disappeared down the ramp, Xarla emerged from the back of her cell. “Is that really what your people wear? It’s very different from what you had on.”
“We did a long time ago,” Kos told her, glancing down at the black leather that hung from his waist and only reached mid-thigh. “But we evolved and modernized.”
Xarla’s eyes were wide. “I can see that.”
The lights flickered before dimming, and Kos spun around. “What’s going on now?”
Zaria sighed. “The Curator likes us to be rested before the guests arrive. If I were you, I’d sleep some. Once the party starts, there are no breaks.”
Kos stalked over to the bed and flopped down on it, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. It had been hours, and he’d made zero headway in finding a way out. The cells seemed impenetrable; the only way out was activating the button on one of the crew members’ belts. Something he couldn’t do from inside.
A swish made him sit up quickly. Hope walked back in, and his throat tightened when he saw her.
Instead of the utilitarian outfit she’d been wearing, she was now in a dress that looked like liquid gold. The shimmery fabric was nearly transparent, draping from one shoulder and cinching at the waist before falling to the floor with a slit up one thigh. Her bare skin—and there was plenty of it—also appeared to shimmer, flecks of gold catching in the low light. Her pale hair fell in waves down her shoulders and her face had been dramatically made up, with black lines sweeping out from the corners of her eyes.
She paused as the clear wall slid shut behind her.
He stood, his mouth dry as he tried to speak. “You’re okay?”
She nodded but walked forward gingerly. “I was out for most of it, but I’m pretty sure they ripped every hair off my body.”
His gaze went to her head.
“Not there, but everywhere else.”
“Oh.” He did not know much about human females, but he had not thought them to be hairy. “Is that all?”
She shot him a look. “Well, they covered me with some sort of sparkly lotion, and then they made me look like a drag queen.”
Kos cocked his head. “Is this a type of Earth royalty?”
She snorted a laugh. “Not exactly.” She studied him. “So, aside from dressing you like Conan, they didn’t do anything to you?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Typical,” she muttered.
“You do not find this too scary?” he asked, glancing down at his Drexian battle kilt.
Hope shook her head. “I mean, it’s nice that you’re showing more leg than me. I would have been pissed if you’d gotten to wear your uniform.” She passed him and flopped onto the bed. “I still feel a little bit drowsy from whatever they gave me.”
“You should sleep,” he said. “Xarla says there are no breaks during the parties.”
Hope propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. “That goes for you too. We can’t exactly stage a prison break if you’re exhausted.”
He lowered himself onto the bed next to her, trying not to let his eyes wander to the expanse of bare leg or to her hard nipples poking against the sheer fabric. The dress left almost nothing to the imagination, so he closed his eyes as he lay on his back, willing his cock to stop throbbing.
After a few moments of feeling her shift restlessly next to him, he opened his eyes. “What is wrong?”
“You mean aside from being held prisoner by the universe’s creepiest alien and being forced to take part in some messed-up sex party?” she asked. “Oh, nothing I guess.”
He turned to look at her in the near dark. “You are scared?”
“More like freaked out. Aren’t you?”
“I am worried for you, not for myself,” Kos said. “If anyone tries to touch you or hurt you, I will
have to fight them.”
“But you can’t.” She turned and touched a hand to his arm. “They’ll kill you.”
“I will defend you with my life, even if that means dying,” he said. “But I would not want to leave you alone.”
“I don’t want that either.” Her voice cracked. “Any of it.”
He turned his head back so that he stared at the ceiling. “Then let us hope no one tries to touch you tonight.”
Kos felt the warmth of her body and heard the soft swish of the fabric as she moved closer to him, and his breath caught in his throat when she straddled him.
“What are you doing?” He could see the outline of her as she leaned over, brushing her lips against his.
“If this is going to happen, it’s going to happen my way.”
His heart pounded as her soft curls fell to either side of her face, creating a curtain around them. “I do not understand.”
Her mouth moved to his ear, and she nipped it before sucking on the lobe. He bit back a groan.
“I told you, big guy,” she said, her breathy voice sending jolts down his spine. “It’s not that I don’t want to fuck you. I’m just not crazy about doing it with an audience, especially not the first time.”
His cock pulsed, straining in his boxer briefs as she ground her body against it. “You want to… Now?”
She pulled back slightly, her breathing heavy. “Unless you don’t want me.”
“I want you,” he said, almost too quickly, his hand tangling in her curls. “I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you on that pirate ship. I knew in that moment that you were mine.”
“Looks like you’re going to get to show me just how much I’m yours, big guy,” she whispered.
Kos felt the desire storm through him as she swiveled her hips again and rubbed against his cock. All his anger and frustration transformed instantly into a blinding need. Fisting his hand in her hair, he yanked her mouth to his, parting her lips with a dominant sweep of his tongue. Her body seemed to melt against him, and she moaned in his mouth.