2
The dropship didn't land so much as it fell out of the sky, braking at the last second with a scream that rattled her teeth in her skull.
The narrow alley turned into a wind tunnel.Garbage bins toppled, throwing rubbish across the wet pavement, and a cloud of grit whipped into a frenzy.
Emily threw her hands up, squeezing her eyes shut as the world dissolved into madness.
Then the madness vanished.Or rather, it was blocked.
A wall of heat and leather slammed into her.Raaevik curled his massive body around hers, hunching over to shield her from the flying debris.He was huge, a solid barrier against the wind.She pressed against him, feeling the hardness of his heavily-muscled frame...everywhere.God, he was built like a freaking mountain.And he was wrapped around her.
It was terrifying and also the safest she had ever felt in her life.Ever.
Which was absurd.The man was her kidnapper, and the reason she was cowering in an alley next to a skip full of rotting vegetables.But as a piece of brick ricocheted off his shoulder with a dull thud, she didn't pull away.Instead, she buried her face in his coat.Safe.God help her.
The wind died, and the engines’ scream dropped to a throbbing hum.
"Move," Raaevik growled, but before she could reply, the ground fell away.
He didn't grab her arm or shove her this time.Instead, he hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and suddenly she was airborne.She gasped, clutching his shoulders.He lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
She blinked.One second, they were in the alley, and the next, he strode up the lowered ramp of the ship with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for someone carrying another being.
"Put me down!"she struggled against his grip."I have legs!"
He ignored her.
They crossed the threshold into the ship’s belly, and the air changed.The city's humidity vanished, replaced by recycled, metallic dryness.The lighting was dim, bathed in a harsh, tactical red glow.And it smelled, not like garbage, but like weapons oil and sweat.
Raaevik deposited her into a seat along the bulkhead.It wasn't a passenger seat.It was a crash harness, rigid and utilitarian, clearly designed for someone much larger than she was.
"Stay," he ordered.
"I'm not a dog," she snapped, scrambling to sit upright as the seat's padding, or lack of it, dug into her back.
He didn't respond.He leaned over her, his hands moving to the straps hanging above her shoulders.
Way too close.
In the cramped confines, he was overwhelming.His hair brushed against her cheek as he reached across her.His chest was a wall of black leather inches from her nose.She held her breath, trying not to inhale, but it was useless.His scent — leather and something dark, like rain on hot stone and sheer male — filled her nostrils, hitting her on a primal level and making her feel light-headed.
For a second, she had the insane urge to lean forward and nuzzle the side of his neck.
Get a grip, Em,she hissed to herself.He was an alien warlord’s goon, not her date.
He clicked the buckles together over her chest, tightening the straps until she was firmly pinned but not crushed.His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast as he adjusted the cross-harness, and she flinched.
He froze.
Slowly, he pulled back.His violet eyes locked onto hers.In the red light, they looked black.There was no apology in his gaze, just an intensity that made her skin prickle.
He checked the buckle one last time, giving it a sharp tug.Satisfied, he straightened.
"Secure," he muttered, more to himself than her, just as the deck lurched.
Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and she clung to her harness.The engines roared again, a deeper, bone-shaking sound that vibrated through the seat's metal frame.Gravity pressed down on her chest, heavy and relentless.
"Oh god," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut."Oh god, we're going to die."
