Chapter 1

Chapter One

The question in my mind wasn’t whether or not I was being followed. It was whether or not they intended to kill me. That wasn’t a rhetorical question, either. How on earth had my entire life blown up in only three days? Well, to be accurate, it had burned down. And not on Earth.

I paused and flattened myself against the squat stone building behind me, straining to identify the noise I’d heard. The wind buffeted my face, quite cold, and unfortunately masking the sound. At least the Foulan-style clothing I wore otherwise kept the biting cold at bay.

There. The noise again. Like a scrape against rock.

As the double moons continued their ascent, I cursed the increasing brightness. Nighttime still wasn’t as bright as the day, thankfully, and was why I traveled at night. It was still too bright by far. I’d been hiding since my house burned down, trying to find a way off this planet before?—

There. Damn it. There was the scraping again. Not that I’d needed confirmation, but I had it anyway. The bigger question remained.

Who was following me? Friend or foe?

I had to assume foe and keep making my way to the port. A friend who believed me that I hadn’t killed Bowyer Haled had helped arrange an off-world transport from the port city bordering our village. If I could get off of Foula, I was confident I could disappear.

I scurried along the building’s stone wall, hugging it close. My footfalls remained largely silent on the gravel. An impressive feat. I might have preferred my slip-on leather shoes be hardier, but the lighter weight allowed me to step quietly.

The township of Idhova had a population of about 1500, mostly Foulan, though a handful of other species called it home. The founders built the tiny boulder town into the side of a small mountain bordering a thin forest. On the other side of the forest, a rocky, very exposed, plain stood between me and the port city of Monsa. And my freedom.

I turned left into a narrow alleyway between two stone houses, moving as fast as I could while straining to hear how close my pursuer might be. At this time of night, most of the town’s residents would be tucked into bed. Nobody would be out in the cold without a damn good reason. Including me.

The thought of the unknown didn’t frighten me—I never would have left Earth for an alien world, if that was the case—but the thought of being hunted by an unknown someone... Well, that lodged a cold, gnawing fear in my belly. Survival pushed me forward.

Reaching the last domicile on the outskirts of town, I searched my surroundings for the presence of anyone else, then darted across the short gravel road to enter the relative safety of the forest.

The towering trees, similar to Earth’s birch and oak, grew in clumps, though more sparsely than I would have liked. I picked my way over tree roots that had breached the forest floor. The sounds of the forest competed with blood pounding through my veins from both exertion and anxiety.

I stopped to take stock of my location and inhaled, enjoying the damp, musky yet sweet, scent of the forest. Normally, I would enjoy a leisurely walk through these trees. Except this wasn’t enjoyable. And it sure as shit wasn’t for leisure.

I didn’t hear my pursuer, though I suspected that was because of the chittering insects, bird chirps, and scurrying of small mammals surrounding me, very similar to what I’d hear on Earth. My feet moved me forward as I split my attention, careful not to trip, but also trying to identify how close my hunter was.

Breath whooshed in and out in a plume from the cold. I rubbed my nose, always first to feel the effects of chilly weather, and was thankful that the wig I wore prevented at least some body heat from escaping.

Cautious optimism sparked that I might make it after all. I’d reached the edge of the small forest. Staring out across the plain, my optimism faltered. A lone granite boulder stood about fifty yards away. I’d be super-exposed while running toward it, but at least then I could rest there and watch for anyone attempting to exit the forest behind me.

I only needed to reach it.

The sound of a large twig snapping spurred me. Racing forward on my long legs, I inhaled and exhaled as college coaches had taught me, to maximize my oxygen supply. Hope soared the closer I came to the large boulder.

Just when I thought I’d make it, someone tackled me from behind and we tumbled to the ground in a pile. They flipped me over, straddling me on the rocky ground. The cold on my scalp told me that my wig had fallen off.

Which explained the surprised expression on the Foulan male now sitting astride my midsection, leaning forward, holding my hands above my head. He was a typical example of his species. They were large by nature, and he was crushing me.

“I can’t breathe,” I squeaked out.

The Foulan jumped off of me, yanking me by the arm to stand beside him.

My hand moved of its own accord to check the top of my head. Yep. No wig. I guess quality isn’t what it used to be.

The Foulan’s black eyes cutting to a spot on the ground told me that was likely where my expensive black wig now lived. That meant my long, blonde hair was now on display.

A meaty hand reached forward, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. With my blue eyes. The blue eyes that were very much not like the Foulans.

“You are human?” the Foulan barked in his wolflike language, his deep voice rolling over me.

“No, I’m not,” I disagreed, despite all evidence to the contrary. Especially when I blurted that out in English. What a dumbass.

“The Syndicate knows I do not accept human Runners,” he mumbled, more to himself than to me, though also in English.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Really? When you speak English?” I questioned, though inside I was screaming. Shit! Shit! Shit! That confirmed Vadhea had hired him. This was bad. Very bad.

“I downloaded all of Earth’s languages,” he explained. “Before I decided human Runners are not worth the money,” the Foulan continued, unaware of my internal plight. “Too easy to catch.”

“Hey, I was an athlete,” I retorted. “A track star.”

He didn’t respond.

“I can run really fast,” I explained, assuming he didn’t understand what I meant.

“So?” he asked, confused. “I caught you.”

“Hmm, okay, that’s true,” I relented. Whatever.

The Foulan’s black eyes roved over my figure. “Disrobe,” he ordered.

The request wasn’t sexual. I knew why he wanted to see me naked. Humans weren’t built like Foulans. My hair and eyes could have been altered to appear human. He knew my body likely wouldn’t have been. “Why?” I asked anyway, stalling.

“I dislike being lied to,” he snapped.

“Then you should want me to stay a Foulan,” I joked weakly.

“Disrobe,” he repeated, my joke not even earning a chuckle. The alien Enforcer didn’t have a sense of humor.

“No,” I tried to refuse, though my heart rate jackhammered. “Who hired you?” I pleaded, needing to confirm it was Vadhea.

The Foulan frowned, his surprisingly clean-shaven face darkening. “Disrobe,” he said a third time, ignoring my question. “Or I will do it for you.”

The thought of disrobing pissed me off. It was cold out. But the thought of the Foulan disrobing me bothered me more. They were like Earth’s version of a werewolf. Part man and part wolf. Typically hairy—which was why this one’s clean-shaven face was such a surprise. He looked quite good, if I was being honest. The black hair and black eyes were very typical of his species. Unfortunately, so was strength and a no-nonsense manner. I didn’t want him accidentally hurting me or tearing my clothes. When I figured my way out of this, I’d need my clothing intact.

Starting with my shoes, I used a heel to slide each foot out. My socks I left on, both to defy the order and because the ground was fucking frigid, even with them on. I gave my leggings a slight tug at the waistband to separate the fastener, similar to a silent Velcro. Despite their tight-fitting design, that allowed me to shimmer the leggings over my hips and down my long legs. Once folded, I placed them on my shoes, my brain trying to figure out how to get away. I didn’t see a way to do it until dressed again.

Maybe delaying was a poor tactic.

Instead, I sped up. I yanked the black vest’s front fastener and slid the vest off. My hands gripped the bottom of my black blouse and I did the same. I risked a glance at his face, standing there in my underwear, shivering in the icy wind.

What I saw shocked me.

His eyes had dilated and his face flushed. Did he find me attractive? That was unusual for a Foulan. Bowyer, my purchaser, had been an exception, wanting a human female more because he liked the exotic. Most Foulans didn’t find humans attractive. Frankly, they often considered us beneath them because of our diminutive size and lack of hair.

But not this particular Foulan, it seemed. A plan began formulating.

Now I slowed down, taking my time undoing the bandeau across my chest. When my breasts sprang free, I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants.

Was he getting a woodie? No way.

I hooked a finger into my black panties, watching his face as he watched my finger guide the panties down my legs. I stepped out of them and leaned over to place them on my growing pile of clothing.

Speaking of growing.

There was a definite bulge in the Foulan’s pants.

He stepped forward, his rough hand cupping my left breast, then running it along my ribcage. He paused at my waist before angling toward my mound. His fingers rubbed along the thatch of hair. Then he cupped my sex, startling us both. I moaned at his hand’s movement.

Instead of continuing, he sprung away from me. “You have hair, though not nearly enough,” he concluded, his voice husky, unlike before.

For a Foulan—I knew he meant what remained unspoken.

“You do not feel surgically altered,” he continued, again more to himself than to me.

“I’m not,” I concurred anyway, my plan now having taken shape. “You don’t have to give me to Vadhea.” Placing my hands on my hips, I pushed my breasts out, pleased that the biting cold helped by nipples stand at attention. Then I summoned my most seductive voice.

“I’ll do anything.”