Chapter 7

CHAPTER

SEVEN

MAGGIE

For a minute there, I thought I was totally happy to let the big alien get a taste of my juicy southern peach.

Until I came to my addled senses, that is.

What the hell has gotten into me?

Well, the big alien hasn't gotten into me.

A breath huffs out of me.

I'm not sure how to feel about that. Relieved? Sad?

Mostly, I just feel like a total fucking mess.

The big alien's focused on a control panel near a screen of windows that I can't quite look at because the thought of actually being in space makes this feel too fucking real.

Like if I look outside and see nothing but black void, I'll have to admit that this isn't just some exhaustion-fueled nightmare. I'll have to admit to myself that aliens are most definitely real.

Real enough to make me wonder what getting licked by one would feel like.

Whew.

I fan myself with my hand. "Is it hot in here? Or am I losing my mind?" I force a little self-conscious laugh. Not that my new blue hero seems bothered by anything I say or do.

He's definitely not bothered by my nudity.

Or by his.

Frankly, the kind of worshipful look he gave me could do my self-esteem some good.

I shake my head at myself, taking a deep breath and trying to slow my racing heart. Ken's probably doing the same; he's preening away at his wings and making small honking noises to comfort himself. Before long, he settles in on a patch of floor and buries his head beneath a wing for a nap.

So much for gander.

Ken is a straight goose gangster, I decide.

Look at him. He's asleep.

On an alien spaceship. After attacking and murdering said alien.

"Get a goose, they said. They're like guard dogs, they said." I shake my head, wondering what the chicken influencers would have to say about this.

"Ta anasha," the alien says, jerking me from my reverie. He's gesturing for me to come closer, and I freeze.

Do I want to come closer?

He holds up a piece of fabric, and I do a double take.

"Clothes," I breathe. Oh, that's definitely a step in the right direction, yessirree. One small step for the alien, one huge step for covering my naked tits.

I hop off the strange chair I've been precariously perched on, taking mincing steps in a sad attempt to avoid the biohazardous liquids our former alien captors left behind.

He holds out the clothes, somehow managing to avoid all eye contact with me. For once, he's not looking anywhere near me.

Relief wars with confusion. Did I hurt his feelings by refusing sex? I mean, too bad for him, because that would have been a very weird thing to do, and probably would have just been a result of adrenaline looking for an outlet.

We can't even communicate.

We're not even the same species, for crying out loud.

"Thanks," I mumble, taking the clothing from him. I hold it up, eyeing it critically. It's a one-piece of some kind. Stretchy, soft fabric. Well, at least it should fit without too much fuss.

I shove my legs into the thing, then put my arms through what I assume are armholes. It's all a serviceable charcoal grey, nothing fancy, the fabric is buttery soft against my skin, and somehow, the thin fabric is the perfect weight for the cold spaceship.

I gasp as the back seals itself up, twisting and turning to see what kind of magic science-y shit is at work.

Of course, I'm not a freakin' secret yogi, so I can't see shit behind me, other than that the hospital gown opening I thought I'd be stuck with is, in fact, gone.

"How the hell am I supposed to pee with this on?" I ask him.

He grins at me, and it makes my knees a little weak. Either because his teeth look fucking sharp as hell and he's a little bit scary with his glowing skin and his horns and his prehensile tail that apparently is strong enough to straight up carry me around, orrrr because he's wickedly handsome in addition to all of that.

He says something to me, holding out what looks like a techno crown, aiming for my head.

I blanch, swinging away.

Outside, flecks of light zip by us, and my stomach swings wildly at the sight. Good god. We are in space.

If I had anything left to throw up, I probably would.

At this rate I'm not going to pee anyway. I'm probably so dehydrated I'll die before I need to pee.

What a charming, optimistic observation.

Sighing, I look down at my new outfit, raising an eyebrow. It's not terrible. Cinched at the waist, the pants and top looser than I expected. Whatever functionality allowed the dang thingie to be magically zipped up at the back also sucked my boobies in, thank goodness, because they were starting to get obnoxious.

I'd hate to put someone's eye out with them flopping around wildly.

The alien says something again, still holding out the strange crown, beckoning for me to come closer.

"No, thank you," I tell him automatically, smiling brightly, the way I always do to take the sting of rejection out.

Alien homeboy over there could snap me in half. Might as well err on the side of unintelligible politeness.

He stares at me, and I bite back another sigh, easing on a vapid smile instead. "I don't look good in hats," I tell him.

Because that's the perfect excuse and he will definitely, absolutely understand.

He looks at me. He looks at the strange cyberpunk fever dream tiara in his hand.

I take another step back. I don't know what that is, but I've seen enough science fiction in my life to guess that putting alien technology on the ole noodle is a bad idea.

Ken the goose lets out an ear-splitting honk and I startle, my heart jumping into my throat. A quick, terrified glance tells me he's fine, though, simply staring at me with one beady goose eye.

A thick band clunks against my forehead and I whip my attention back to the alien, who's placing an ugly crown on his own head.

"No, you've got to be kidding me, I don't want this, I don't know what this is, I'm dehydrated, I've been barfing, I've been abducted, I had to run around naked in front of very unfriendly aliens, and I do not want whatever," I grunt, tugging at the crown, "this," grunt, "is."

Well, it's fucking stuck now.

The alien's watching me, a hint of amusement on his strangely handsome alien face, and I stamp my foot, annoyed as hell as I keep trying to tug it off.

The fucking thing zaps me. Zaps me!

"Shiiit!" I yelp, my hands at my temples.

"Tanaleck na'leyep coarsina," the alien tells me in a reasonable voice.

I do not like reasonable voices when I've been electrocuted by an ugly accessory choice. In fact, reasonable post-abduction assurances from a huge naked alien are starting to piss me off.

Glaring at him, I continue to tug at the damned thing, only to receive another sharp zing of electrical current for my troubles.

"You are quite angry for such a tiny thing. Very violent," he says calmly.

I slap my hand on the control panel, feeling angrier with each calm utterance that leaves his mouth. "Of course I'm angry. I got snatched by some ugly aliens, my poor goose is probably getting ready to have the avian version of a panic attack, I need water, and now you slapped this thing on my head after you acted like you were going to eat me out. I'm a freakin' mess, my good sir!"

"It's a language mapper." His voice is clear and patient, and I can't help but take umbrage at the way he's addressing me like a freaking five-year-old.

"Right," I huff. "Like I'm supposed to know what a language mapper is—" I blink.

He grins at me. "It is rewiring our brains so we can effectively communicate, little hope."

Little hope? I frown at him, in spite of his contagious smile.

Then my jaw drops.

"We're talking."

"We have been talking," he agrees, smirking. A hand goes to his horns, and he shivers slightly.

I gawk at him.

"Language mapping," he repeats, pointing to the crown on his head, then mine.

"You are naked," I tell him.

It seems utterly obscene now. It's one thing to be naked and afraid and unable to communicate, but it's entirely different now that I can talk to him.

My hands go to my boobs reflexively, even though they are now blessedly covered up, heat rising in my cheeks. I've been so focused on just freaking surviving that I didn't have time to be more than slightly perturbed at my nudity.

But now that his big ole dingaling is dingalinging like that in front of me, I am altogether way too freaking aware of him, of the fact that we snuggled naked for warmth, of the fact that he nearly ate me out.

Unless maybe he was checking me for the space equivalent of ticks?

Maybe that's it.

"Why were you shoving my legs apart a second ago?" I make myself ask, squinting at him.

"Because I was hungry for your cunt," he says simply, the blue gleam in his eyes growing even brighter.

"Oh," I squeak out. "That's uh, is that normal for your…" I wave my hand up and down at him, nearly smacking his outrageously large cock before withdrawing it as quick as possible and fanning my face with it instead. That's safe.

Hitting a blue-streaked, glowing alien cock is most likely not safe.

"I don't remember a McGruff talk on what to do if you're abducted by aliens," I wheeze, totally flustered. "Dare to say no to alien…" I clamp my mouth shut before I can utter the word dick.

Oh. My brow furrows.

"Wait, no," I babble. "That's the DARE campaign. McGruff wanted to take a bite out of something." Probably not blue alien cock, though. Probably.

I'm losing my mind. That's got to be what this is.

Shock? Dehydration.

"Water," I croak, sinking onto the floor.

Ken lets out a horrified honk and waddles his thick feathered ass over to my lap.

The alien raises his eyebrows. It's such a human expression that it seems completely obscene on his face.

"Water," he repeats.

"I need water." I mime drinking, then smack my lips.

He nods, and I watch him through half-closed eyes as he presses a few buttons on the alien console. It's totally beyond my comprehension, covered in the runes of a language that I've never seen. Maybe heard it now, though, ha!

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

The alien dude turns around and I flinch away from his dick, which is still rock-hard and glowing. I slap my hands over my eyes.

For crying out loud.

"Water?" he asks, and I peer through a crack in my fingers.

"Please," I croak.

He crouches next to me, and it literally takes all my willpower not to stare at Johnson McGlow Stick Dick and take the water from him.

I mean, I might be a bit of a prude, but got damn, that cock is out of this world.

I take a long drink. The water, at least, is cool and refreshing, and I didn't realize until I slurped at it just how raw my throat and mouth felt.

A headache begins at my temples.

"What is your name, little hope?" he asks.

"My name… my name?" I repeat. He's seen my entire steak and eggs breakfast special and now he's curious about my name?

Sad thing is, I can't say any of the human one-night stands—who didn't even bother to try and lick the goodies—ever cared.

This alien's not only admitted to wanting to get fresh with my honey biscuit, but now he wants to know my name?

Be still, my overactive heart. "My name's Maggie."

"My name's Maggie."

I laugh, surprising both of us, and earning a honk of reproach from alien-killer Ken. He settles back in my lap, and I take another swig from the bottle.

"Maggie," I finally say again, gesturing to myself. "Maggie."

"Mah-gee," he repeats, grinning widely. His long, thick tail swishes back and forth behind him.

"What's your name?" I ask him, trying not to stare at either his tail or his round, muscled butt or his very shiny, glowing dick.

"Ark-Can," he says slowly.

"Ark Can?" I puzzle over it.

"Faster. Arkan."

"Oh, okay. Arkan." It's a nice name. I can pronounce it, which is a relief. "Arkan. Got it."

That rumbling sound starts again, and I stare up at him, intrigued. "You purr? Like a cat?"

"Cat?" he repeats. "Purrrrrr?"

I hold in a snort. Laughing at the way he says purr while he purrs is probably not in my best interest. I can't quite keep from smiling, though, and he smiles back at me as if also enjoying the silliness of this moment after, well, the hell we've been through.

"Can I go home now?" I ask quietly.

I regret it the instant I say it.

His face falls, his eyes darkening, and that strange tail whips faster behind him.

"I will take us somewhere safe," he answers evasively.

"But not back to Earth?" I can't help myself. I've always asked too many questions, always kept talking when I should have been quiet. Be seen and not heard—I can't count how many times I heard that and how many times I was scolded for being too much.

My eyes prick with tears, my throat tight.

"Go back to ground?" He frowns at me. "To the ground? Is this what you mean? We will land eventually, if you are afraid of space travel."

That takes me aback.

Ground?

Oh. Ground.

Of course he doesn't know what Earth is. "No, not ground, but to my planet. Earth is the name for it. Do I get to… go back?"

He gives me a long, sad look. "That is what you want? To go back to that… sad planet?"

"It's my home," I say a bit defensively.

Ken's eye blinks open, his feathers decidedly ruffled.

"Other than you and that attack beast on your lap, I should not think there is too much to see there."

"But I can go back?" I ask again, because he hasn't answered, not really.

He glares at me. "Your planet is off-limits. Your whole solar system is off-limits. Illegal to go there. You understand? Too primitive. We are not allowed to return or make contact."

I make a noise of surprised disgust, but he's already turned away, stepping into a black length of fabric similar to mine. He puts it on quickly, and it leaves a small hole for the thick base of his tail to escape through.

Huh.

Well, I can't lie to myself—or anyone else—I have to admit I kind of understand why he might think Earth is primitive. We certainly don't have clothes that fit themselves to you, instead of the other way around.

We definitely don't have spaceships. Unless you count the one Uncle Leroy says he saw two decades ago on a full moon when he was drunker than a skunk on last fall's apples.

I might be in a spaceship, but I still don't think we should count that one.

A high-pitched noise begins whining, and Arkan mutters something under his breath as his fingers dance across the controls.

"That doesn't sound good," I say, trying to comfort myself by cuddling Ken close.

Ken, of course, honks at me in disgust and snaps his beak before I relent.

The goose flaps his wings and walks over to the corner, turning to give me the evil eye before he shits all over the ground.

Message received.

Well, at least someone's hydrated, I guess.

I sigh, blowing out a breath.

"We are being pursued." Arkan's tail pokes my thigh and I slap it away, irritable at everything.

"Of course we're being pursued," I mumble under my breath.

"Yes, of course," he agrees.

I'm surprised he could even hear me, but I'm not surprised he doesn't get the sarcasm.

I drink some more water. "Care to explain why we're being pursued?"

"I am a high-value, priority target." He practically preens as he says it, and I shoot a look at Ken in the corner, wondering if the goose has encouraged this behavior.

"What does that make me?" I snort. "I'm not high-value anything. I'm just unlucky. Can't you drop me off back on Earth? I don't want to be a priority for whoever is chasing us." I make myself smile at him to take the sting out. "Please? I am just a worthless human, and Ken's just… Ken."

He glances down at me, an expression of shock and disapproval on his pretty alien face. His horns seem to pulse, and I'm strangely tempted to touch one again. "You are not worthless."

I blush in spite of myself, flummoxed. "Then what am I? Just take me back," I wheedle. "No one would have to know." I draw an x over my chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"You will do no such thing," he thunders, the cracks in his skin growing even brighter, widening as his tail stands up stiff behind him.

I blink, completely confused.

"You are not going back to the ground planet, it is illegal, and I forbid you to cross your tiny heart and hope to die."

"What? Why? That's not even?—"

"Because I have decided you are mine ," he interrupts, his eyes practically on fire with that blue light.

I snap my mouth shut.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?