Page 39 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

“It’s a mustard yellow—” She tips her head to see the brand name the cloaking illusion has scrawled on the shuttle. “—Chieftain Winnebago.”

I don’t want to lie outright, so I clear my throat as I place my hand at the small of her waist and guide her towards the steps. “Indeed.”

“This looks like it’s in pristine condition. Like it came right out of the seventies. Where did you even get this?”

Frack if I know how to answer any of these questions. So, I turn her gently towards me and press a kiss to her lips as I back her toward the RV. “Do you really want to discuss my recreational vehicle, or should I feed you first?”

“We’re eating here?”

“Yes.”

Having read the novel Lorraine gave me, I know more about the mating rituals of this world. Food is an important element. But I have no desire to sit in public while feeding my mate. I want her alone.

Inside the shuttle there’s a short hall, with crew quarters on either side, that leads straight into the main cabin, which houses the HSC, food replicators, and entertainment unit.

Joey’s steps slow as I lead her down the hall, and I tighten my grip on her hand.

She trails her fingers along the smooth white walls, frowning just a little. She stops just inside the common area and her hand slips from mine as she takes in the room.

There aren’t holo-projectors inside the shuttle—other than the ones in the entertainment unit, obviously. So, the interior of the shuttle appears exactly as it is. The walls and storage cabinets are surfaced in smooth white panels. The furniture covered in plush fabric the color of the pale green sand of an Atillian beach. The ceiling painted the deep lavender of the Persæn sky at sunset.

The shuttle was military grade and utilitarian, but it was constructed during the height of the Empire as a transport for royalty. Persæns liked their creature comforts.

“This place is amazing,” Joey murmurs. She turns in a circle, taking in the room. “This can’t be a standard Winnebago.”

I’ve never seen the inside of a standard Winnebago, so I have no idea. “I had some custom work done on it.”

“Some work?” she gives a laugh tinged with disbelief. “Some? How did they make it seem so much bigger on the inside?”

She walks around the room—which isn’t big, but still must be bigger than an actual Winnebago. After all, the holo-illusions make the shuttle appear a fraction of its actual size.

I pull the food out of the replicator and set it on the dining table. I had programmed it before I had left to pick her up, and I’m pleased that the food is warm and smells edible.

As I place the food in front of her, her wide green eyes widen before she smiles up at me. “Very high brow.”

“It is a cheeseburger,” I tell her. “And frenched[JS1] fries. I was told it was very popular here.”

I had replicated the traditional eating utensils they used at the diner, but she ignores them and picks the bread-covered meat up in her hands.

My cock hardens at the sight of her lips closing over her food. Her eyes flicker closed as she chews.

This planet may be primitive, but the tradition of feeding one’s mate has merits.

When she realizes I’m watching her, she gives me a shy smile. “It’s very good.” Then she frowns slightly. “Don’t they have burgers where you’re from?”

“No.”

“Where did you say you were from?” she asked.

“Perse.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly. “Is that like in Norway or something?”

I smile, despite the twinge of frustration her question brings. “Something like that.” She shouldn’t have to ask about Perse. She should know every detail of Persæn culture and life. I turn from my dark thoughts and say, “Tell me about your schooling.”

“It’s not very interesting, just a bookkeeping program.”

“Ah …” I nod, but it takes me a moment to search for the words. “A librarian.”