Chapter 6

Paige

T he other aliens just left and now I’m alone with him again.

It’s nice to not feel like a monkey in a zoo anymore, but the way my captor is looking at me is even more terrifying.

Like he wants to keep me. Like there isn’t a question of who I belong to.

Myself! That’s who I belong to.

My eyes feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and this headache won’t quit. Thankfully, the nausea has subsided but I feel like death. I miss my bed back in Chicago. Hell, I miss the damn pod with those soft linens.

My alien takes a step toward me and I can’t help but step away. I slide across the rocky wall to the corner of the room, squeezing myself to get away from him.

He stills. His face contorts. The masculine, strangely human-like features—his strong jaw and full gray lips—harden like he’s annoyed with me.

Instead of coming closer, he reaches for the strip of leather that cuts the room in half, the hammock hanging just off the soft ground. With his massive hands, he slides the material apart, spreading the weaved material out like a mat and holding it open.

He says something deep and low, the sound calming all the tension in my exhausted muscles.

I swallow hard.

He says something else, his lips tasting the words I still can’t understand.

I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I have no idea what you’re saying, dude.

He grunts and shakes the hammock, forcing me to look at it.

Does he want me to get in it? Hell no, I’m not about to climb in and get comfortable with the alien who kidnapped me. He’s out of his mind.

But then when he shakes it again, his expression changes to one of almost concern.

His amber eyes soften and so do I.

Seemingly annoyed with the fact that I’m not moving, he drops the hammock and cuts the distance between us.

“No, no. No!” I say as he gets closer. His chest lights up bright green and he leans down and picks me up again, carrying me to the outstretched leather. With one hand, he spreads the hammock out and then gently lays me down.

I twist and push away from him but the hammock tilts and I squeal as I almost tumble out.

My captor grabs hold of the sides and steadies me, shaking the leathers a little so I look at him.

He speaks—something like a command, I think—and then removes his hands from the edge of the hammock.

I don’t dare move. Mainly because I don’t want to fall and hit the soft dirt below, but partly because I don’t want to look like an idiot either. My alien is kneeling beside me, watching my every move with such attention that my cheeks start to burn.

Why does he keep looking at me like that?

“Okay,” I say, knowing he can’t understand me but needing to say it anyway. “I’m comfortable now. You can go.”

His lips twitch at the edges like he’s amused.

I look at him closer. His hair is dry now and the curls look soft. When I stare at his face, I could almost fool myself that he was human if it weren’t for his dark gray skin. His other features are somewhat human, but the rest of him? He’s too tall. Too strong. A thin layer of fur covers his body with a thicker mane of it sliding down his spine.

Despite all the ways he’s different, he’s still kind of handsome.

I nearly kick myself as I shove the thought away.

My alien cocks his head and watching me closely as I relax into the comfortable leather. It doesn’t take long before exhaustion clings to me, begging me for a rest. It’s been a long day and to be honest, I don’t really want to be awake for more of it.

I breathe out deeply, sleep already taking hold of me when my alien reaches out. His hands are rough, but I don’t have the energy to pull away and he touches my face. He runs his finger just below the cut on my face and I realize he’s checking it.

I let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot about that.”

He says something low and I close my eyes, not quite leaning into his touch on my face, but not shying away from it either.

When I open my eyes again, his expression looks painful. He stands and backs away, leaning against the wall across the room from me. The lights on his chest flare and he rubs at the pattern, cringing like he’s in physical pain.

I wish I could understand him. Beg him to let me go.

I wish I was strong enough to run away.

But sleep has its hold on me and I’m fading fast. Before I realize it, I drift off into a comfortable, but fitful sleep surrounded by strange, bright green lights and a deep voice whispering things I can’t quite understand.

I cling to that voice anyways—letting it wipe everything else away.