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“Let’s get out of here before it occurs to anyone to impound this human brat,” he growls, talking over my head to Kahn.
* * *
Iam bundled into the shuttle between Kahn and Ark. We swiftly make an exit from the city, skimming at what seems to me to be a much faster than usual speed. Conversation is sparse and tense, but I don’t think their anger, or whatever emotions are driving them are directed at me. I think they’re worried about the asshole whose blood is drying under my fingernails.
“Don’t worry about that guy,” I say, breaking the silence. “He’s a little bitch.”
“Thank you for your input on the situation,” Kahn says dryly.
“He is a little bitch, though,” Ark agrees, just as dryly.
The tension is broken as both alien men laugh at that description of someone who I gather has become quite a loathed and maybe even feared enemy to them. I wish I understood more. I wish we’d broken the third brother out of prison. Thinking about him in that darkness makes me sick. I know what it’s like to be captured in that way. What’s happening to me now is nothing compared to the desperation of being behind bars.
* * *
We are soon home. Ark takes me by the hand, rather than by the broken leash, and takes me up to his bedroom. I know I am in trouble. I feel the quivering of something like guilt, but more like excitement in my belly as he lets me go and closes the door behind me.
I can already tell that he’s not actually angry at me. Neither of the brothers are. Not that I care what Kahn thinks. I wouldn’t mind if Kahn was angry. It would be funny as hell. I don’t know if I would enjoy Ark’s displeasure as much.
“That was quite a day,” Ark says. “It would have challenged even a well-trained pet. You are not well-trained, but you will receive more training now.”
He’s being very composed, very professional. I can tell he wants me to take this seriously. But I am distracted by him, his physical presence, his masterful demeanor. And his tall, broad, hot fucking alien body.
I bite my lower lip and look up at him under my lashes. “Did anybody ever tell you that you’re really handsome when you’re stern?”
His deep blue brows lower just a fraction over slightly narrowed golden eyes. “You won’t seduce your way out of this, pet.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. I lower my eyes in a facsimile of submission, which directs my gaze toward his crotch, where I see the evidence that my appreciation has created a response of the turgid alien cock kind.
“You can stop smiling like that,” he lectures. “And you can remove those clothes. They were pristine when you put them on. Now look at them.”
“Covered in the blood of your enemies, as they should be,” I say without shame.
He smiles, and I see pride and affection in his visage, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I am not in proper trouble.
“You are something, Jennifer,” he says. “Tell me, why were you imprisoned?”
An invisible shadow is cast over the proceedings. I was so very in the moment with him until he brought that up. There are some things in a person’s life that are best forgotten if at all possible. Part of the reason I punched the alien in the face was to discharge the anxiety that built up when we were down in the alien jail. It worked too.
Now it’s back.
Silence draws out between us. I wait for him to get the hint and move on with the conversation. I’d rather he was whipping my ass than asking these questions. But he doesn’t move the conversation on, and I can’t exactly make him spank me.
“You can tell me, Jennifer,” he says in a rare instance of using my name. It makes me feel warm and maybe a little safe. I guess I can trust him. I suppose I don’t really have a choice.
“They said I killed someone.”
“And did you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a little.”
He folds his arms over his broad chest, scales gleaming. “How do you kill someone a little?”
I shrug.
“Alright. Well, now I understand why you wanted to help Zain out of prison.”
“Sounds to me like he tried to kill someone who needed killing.”
