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What the hell happened to me?
Her mind was kind of foggy.
How did I get here?
She didn’t recognize the room she was in now. The sterile white walls with blinking apparatus in the background. The overhead round light that was bright as sunlight.
And then, someone came into her peripheral view.
A tall woman with long, silver hair in a braid that fell forward over her shoulder regarded Alana with lifted eyebrows. She was a great beauty, looked neither old nor young. Her face was a testament of Nordic descent: high cheekbones, slim nose, and thin lips. Her figure was slender and willowy wrapped in a jumpsuit with a clean, modern line. Its fabric was light and had a slightly metallic sheen with badges sewn on the left breast, as if they signified her rank.
She smiled when their gazes clashed. Her irises were white with a hint of blue. They reminded her of ice chips.
Ice.
It all came back to her in a rush.
That bastard. He knocked me out!
The reality of her situation sank in as she tried to move and sit up.
She couldn’t.
Her body was strapped down to some kind of padded gurney that was firm but not uncomfortable. And she was naked, covered only by a thin sheet that was cool to the touch, and ended just above her breasts and at the tops of her thighs. She pulled against the straps on her wrists, but couldn’t budge them. A band around her chest, midsection and thighs kept her from being able to move much at all.
The woman’s mouth moved, and a strangely melodic sound came out, not quite like singing, but not speaking, either. Another voice joined hers with the same kind of sound, only higher-pitched. Alana turned her head to the left to see another woman, similar to the first, leaning over her.
Then pale, almost elegantly long hands reached for her, and though she squirmed and shouted, “Don’t touch me!” she couldn’t move away. A cool band of metal was snapped into place around her neck, and the melodious sounds miraculously turned to English.
“Please don’t be afraid, Alana Watson. We mean you no harm.”
“No harm? Then why am I tied down?”
“For your own safety, of course. We didn’t want you moving during the procedure. We’re nearly done.”
So many horrifying scenarios ran through Alana’s mind. She’d been kidnapped and they did something with her body. Fuck. Just her luck. Ice and Storm must be the procurers of this human trafficking ring. But why did they kidnap her? She wasn’t even pretty enough to be a sex slave. She wasn’t a blonde beauty with a slender figure. She didn’t have a wealthy family that would pay her ransom, if these people were after money. There had to be some mistake.
Yeah, it had to be.
Swallowing the panic that steadily rose into her throat, she mustered another question. “Are you going to sell me?”
That made the two women pause. They traded a bewildered glance.
“If you do,” Alana continued, “you’re making a big mistake. No one would buy a chubby girl like me. I don’t make a good sex slave. I don’t have that many experiences. I mean, I’ve had sex before but it wasn’t that good. I mean, I know it can be good, I’ve read a lot of books and—”
“Calm down, Alana Watson—”
“Don’t freaking call me by my full name! It’s annoying.”
The first woman didn’t look fazed. “What would you like to be called?”
Alana pursed her lips. Miffed. “Lana,” she said in a small voice.
“Well, Lana. It seems you have a misunderstanding.”
Alana widened her eyes. “You’re with the human trafficking ring, right? You kidnap people to sell to perverts?”
The two women blinked at the same time. The first woman recovered quickly. “I can assure you, Alana Watson, we are not who you think we are.”
