Chapter 9

CHAPTER

NINE

MAGGIE

He's holding me. Not trying to stop my crying, or yelling at me for crying like some boyfriends I've had in the past, or accusing me of trying to make him feel guilty by crying.

Arkan's simply holding me, letting me weep, letting me just be, as the result of all the adrenaline and fear finally works itself out through my tear ducts.

I'm not sure how long I stand there, my cheek pressed up against his faintly glowing skin, until the urge to bawl finally wears me out enough that my tears dry up as stars zoom past the viewscreen on a real-life spaceship.

A shaky breath wobbles out of me and I finally pull back, glancing up at Arkan's face.

His brow furrows in concern, his eyes skimming over my face. "Better?" he asks.

I take another shuddering breath and nod, not trusting myself to answer for fear of bursting into tired tears again.

"Sit," he tells me gently, helping me into one of the chairs.

I wipe my swollen face, grimacing as I realize how much worse it will be after I sleep. My poor body has taken a real beat down over the last few hours… or so.

"How long has it been?" I ask, utterly exhausted. And starving. "Since we left Earth—my planet?"

I don't know exactly how space travel works, and I certainly don't know what the hell I'm looking at no matter how hard I stare at the green projection that seems to be a star map of some sort. The feeling that it's been much longer than I assumed looms heavy over me.

"Time is not something our language mappers have finished with yet," he finally answers, pointing at the stupid sci-fi tiara on his head. Well, less fi, I decide, since it's clearly not fiction.

I rub my face again, and he sets something in front of me.

"Eat," he says, gesturing to the silvery tray.

It's piled with something I don't recognize, but I'm so hungry I only falter for a split second before shoveling it in my mouth with a utensil that does, in fact, look like a shovel.

It tastes… not good. Not bad either, like plain oatmeal had a baby with a matcha latte and a kale plant.

I mean, definitely not my favorite flavor profile. But it's warm, it's food, and right now, that's all that really matters.

I clear the plate in a matter of seconds, the food settling like a brick in my stomach.

Bricks, I decide, are much better than starving to death. Even if they taste like spirulina and extra funky kombucha.

I frown.

I never have had a very adventurous palate… and now I'm going to be eating alien food for who knows how long.

Maybe forever.

It's an extremely depressing thought, and I take a breath, trying to find a silver lining, the way my gran would want me to.

I'm alive.

That's gonna have to be enough for a while, I think.

But Arkan is also proving to be a very, very helpful and kind companion. Sure, he has different, er, ideas about things than I do, but that's like it would be with anyone from a different culture, much more so from an entirely different galaxy.

"Where are we going?" The question pops out before I take the time to think it through. I choke on a laugh, because the answer doesn't matter.

The furthest planet from Earth I can think of is Pluto, and I'm not sure that's even considered a freakin' frackin' planet anymore.

"We're being pursued, so I plan to put us down on the closest planet with a breathable atmosphere." The words are so casual and matter-of-fact that it takes me a full fucking minute to process them.

"We're being pursued," I repeat.

"Yes."

"Who is after us now?" I ask, then lick the shovel, because maybe I like matcha spirulina more than I thought. Or, more likely, my gran's favorite saying is right: hunger is the best seasoning.

A pang goes through me. My poor gran. I wonder if she's already missing me?

No.

I can't think like this. I have to focus on the present.

Which means focusing on the fact that we're being hunted.

"More Kryger. They are angry about the ship… and they would stop at nothing to hunt me down." He says this merrily, as if he's pleased about the fact he's the Kryger's most wanted.

A thread of unease unspools through me. "Why do they?—"

"They have also decided that your species would sell well on the black markets, so they picked up another cargo ship full of females. They are after you, too."

"What?" I half shriek, earning a sleepy honk of anger from Ken. "How do you know that?"

"I read the messages on the command console." He frowns. "How else would I know that?"

I tilt my head, because yeah, when he puts it like that, it seems pretty obvious.

Horrible, yes, but he's not psychic.

"You didn't say why they are after you." I purse my lips, waiting.

"They are after me because I am…" He pauses dramatically, rolling his shoulders back.

And doesn't finish his sentence.

I squint at him, slightly amused despite the gravity of the situation as I wait for his response.

"You are?" I finally urge.

"This is secret information," he tells me slowly, narrowing his eyes at me before giving a one shoulder shrug.

"Who am I going to tell?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest and raising one eyebrow. "Hey Ken, our pal Arkan over here is going to tell us classified alien secrets."

"The war beast speaks?" Arkan asks, distracted.

"War beast?" This time I do laugh, because if I can't laugh, what the hell do I have left? "He's a goose. A lazy one, too."

"He killed a Kryger," Arkan declares. "He is worthy of the secret too."

"He can't understand you," I tell him slowly. "He is a goose."

"Ken," he dips his chin at the goose, ignoring me. "Maggie, I am trusting you with the knowledge that I am Zerinian military. My mission was to disrupt the Kryger supply chain. My team put a bounty on my head and marked me as a traitor in order to have me picked up by the Kryger in hopes that they could track me back to the Kryger mother planet, or mother ship."

I grimace. "That sounds awful. Wait, does that mean your other, er, the rest of your team are also on their way?" I allow a tiny bit of hope to blossom in my chest. Maybe I can convince one of them to take me back to Earth.

He just watches me for a long moment. "They cut the tracker out of my spine. They knew to look for it."

I gasp, hand covering my mouth, horrified at what Arkan's been through.

"That's so horrible. I'm so sorry. My goodness gracious."

"Do not be sorry. It is not your fault. Only the fault of your species for being so lovely that the Kryger now recognize how many credits females like you could bring on the black market."

I don't know what to say to that. It's quite possibly the strangest compliment I've ever gotten.

I'm embarrassed too—not for him, but at myself for reacting so rudely to him when he told me we were meant to be together. This guy—alien—has been through the fucking wringer, and the moment he had a little hope, I lost my damn mind.

He's been kind, and courageous, and even with the strange tail and horns and spikes, his face is handsome and his body is…

Whew.

It's hot.

Tall, built like a linebacker with the kind of muscle I've only ever seen in a movie where the main actor could hardly fit in the sports car he was racing. The kind of muscle that belongs in a gym ten hours a day on a diet of rotisserie chicken, protein shakes, Greek yogurt, and kelp.

I frown. Maybe not kelp.

Regardless of his kelp-eating status, Arkan is… doing it for me.

Not that I'm thinking about mating or whatever with him. Certainly not forever , if I did.

I clear my throat, as if that's going to also clear my mind of my decidedly impure thoughts. Thoughts of Arkan spreading my legs, fire and desire in his eyes, rough hands gentle on my skin.

Thoughts of Arkan's huge dick sliding home inside me, filling me up as I gasp and clench around him. And I know it's huge, too, because it's been staring me in the face pretty much since the moment I saw him.

I swallow hard.

Then I regret thinking the word swallow, because now I'm thinking about getting on my knees and wrapping my mouth around that thick cock of his, blowing his mind with my Earth girl talents.

"Your scent…" His nostrils flare slightly. "What has you hungry for my cock, little one?"

A strangled noise is all that I'm able to make.

Of course, my intrusive thoughts start screaming that I should do exactly what I was just thinking about, get my hands around his big glowing cock and lick it until he's begging to come.

I swallow again.

"I'm not. I'm just, uh?—"

"I can scent your desire," he tells me, his eyes flashing in the dim light. "Even if you do not care to put words to your needs, I can figure out how to please you, little hope."

My pussy clenches around nothing, and I can't freaking decide if I'm turned on or embarrassed… and if it would be worth taking him up on his offer.

"Sadly, we do not have time for me to plunder your perfect female body for all its treasure right now. We must make haste to the closest planet." He jabs a finger at the projection, which spins in response.

My eyes widen as it settles on a planet, craggy and growing in size as he manipulates the image.

"Here. The Kryger are already in pursuit, so we will crash the ship and send out a distress signal to my team. They should respond after a while."

"Crash the ship?" I echo weakly.

Maybe sucking dick is the better alternative. Tomato, tomahto; eggplanto, eggplahnto.

"Crash the ship," he agrees, as if we're discussing the weather.

"And your team will find us after… a while."

"Time words are not processing still," he says mildly.

"So… it could be a long while," I hold my hands very far apart. "Or a short while?" I pinch my thumb and forefinger together."

"Exactly." He beams. "It could be whiles."

Whiles.

I try not to cringe. From the way his face falls, though, I know I've failed at that particular task.

"We will bring your warrior," he continues, as though my grimace didn't cause him to falter at all.

I blink. "My warrior?"

"The white attack beast."

It still doesn't process, considering that I'm still wrapping my head around the whole crash land onto a random planet piece of the plan. And survive there. For whiles.

"Ken. The goose?" I finally cotton on to what, er, who? he's suggesting. "Ken is the white attack beast."

"A vicious predator," he agrees.

My eyebrows shoot up, and while I can't deny the fact that Ken the goose did, apparently, kill one of the bad aliens, describing the overfed honker as a vicious predator still feels a step too far.

"He's a good egg," I finally manage in a wispy voice.

"That is what your species considers an egg?" He blinks at where Ken snoozes away. "I dread to think of what the beast will be like when fully grown."

I stare at him for nearly a full minute.

We might be able to communicate verbally now, thank goodness, but it's clear we still have a long way to go when it comes to making sense of one another.

And we have a whole… whiles to learn how.

I cover my face with my hands.

"Strap in," he tells me in a cheery voice. "I would hate for your fragile body to be injured in the crash."

That, at least, we have in common.