Princess SOS (8 page)

I haven’t slept in a bed for days. There’s a massive soft bed in front of me and I couldn’t take advantage of it. I ended up falling asleep huddled in my little corner on the floor.

When I wake, I’ve got a bad creak in my neck. My face feels puffy and my eyes still burn as if I’m tired. I think I slept and I think I’m awake now. It’s hard to be sure, though, because being here feels so weird.
Is this a dream?

From my vantage point on the floor, I’m still alone. Shakily I get to my feet and begin to poke around. I touch everything. I touch the bed, running my fingers across the silky sheets. I touch the walls, hoping to discover the grooves of other hidden doors. It feels good just to walk around, to have space to explore.

I walk over to the panel of buttons on the wall. Dammit, all the buttons are the same color. It would be so much easier if there was a way to tell them apart.

I hesitate for a moment and then push a button, thinking perhaps it was the button he pushed last night to open the closet door. Nothing happens so I try another button. Then another.

Perhaps he disabled it somehow?

I hear his heavy footsteps stomping from somewhere on the other side of the door.
Crap.
I run over to the bed and sit down. I smooth the black shirt over my thighs and try to look natural.

The alien speaks something and then the door drops down, sinking into the floor.
Ah, he switched it to voice recognition.
Given how crude his language is, it will be a miracle if I can get the commands figured out.

He steps into the room and stops right inside the door. The room fills with tension as our eyes meet and we stare at each other.

I don’t know what to expect. Is he going to be as soft and comforting as he tried to be last night? Or is he going to be the scary monster that rolled my pod into the forest?

I hold my breath and try to keep myself from being consumed by panic. Freaking out might make things worse. I look up from his eyes and focus on his eyebrows.
That’s better.

The alien says something slow and soft.

I sigh, “I don’t understand.”

I watch his brow furrow.

He walks towards me. It takes every ounce of control I have to keep from recoiling as he walks right into my personal bubble. He reaches out and I can’t help but flinch, I still expect him to hurt me. He grabs my hand instead. He lifts my hand and brushes his lips across my knuckles, just like last night. I feel that jolt, the one that shocks my core.

I just have to ask, “Are you like electrified or something?”

I’ve had my hand kissed before, but it never felt like this. And the way my toes just want to curl, I know that jolt wasn’t simple static.

His lips curve into a smirk as if he’s amused by my question and he shakes his head.

I narrow my eyes at him as if I don’t believe him, and he brushes his lips across my knuckles again.

“Stop that!” I gasp and try to pull back my hand.

He doesn’t give it back. Instead, he uses it as leverage to pull me to my feet. My chest tightens, I can’t breathe. He pulls me closer and I’m afraid, so afraid. But I’m not afraid he’s going to hurt me or even kill me. I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me.

And I’m afraid I’m going to like it.

His face grows bigger and bigger. His eyes are half-lidded. He’s going in for the kiss, I just know it. I turn my face away at the last moment and feel his warm sigh against my hair.

He pulls back so quick, I have to wonder if I was reading too much into his intentions. By the hand, he pulls me forward and leads me out to the hall. He walks fast, so fast, I find myself jogging to keep up.

He was trying to kiss me, wasn’t he? Or did I totally just read that wrong and offend him?

We turn a corner, rush down a hallway, then turn another corner.

Where are we going? Is he going to throw me out?

Would I be upset if he did?

“Please slow down!” I huff out as he pulls me around yet another corner. It feels like we could have made a complete square by now.

The alien’s pace immediately slows. His legs are so long, however, that I still have to take two steps for his each one.

“Thank you,” I say breathlessly.

He squeezes my hand. Another thrilling jolt shoots up my arm.

He leads me down another hall, around another corner, and finally into a room. With all the benches and tables, I assume it’s a mess hall. The room looks like it could easily seat a hundred people if they’re sized like me. If they’re sized like him, it’s looking more like fifty.

In the back corner, near an open door that I assume leads to a kitchen area, is a table already set with plates and food. My tummy rumbles loudly and my cheeks warm with embarrassment. I didn’t even realize I was hungry until now but as the smell wafts towards me, my mouth waters and my stomach aches.

The alien leads me towards the table. I have eyes only for the food when he lets go of my hand. I sit down on the bench, pull up the plate and start digging in. As I pick up the skewered meat, the very same juicy delicious meat he left for me at my pod, I’m vaguely aware that he takes the bench across from me.

I tear into the meat and its juices drip all over my fingers. I’m so ravenous, I barely even chew it. It’s tear, swallow, repeat. Once all the meat is devoured and I’m done gnawing on the stick, I go about cleaning my fingers by licking them. I just can’t get enough. That’s when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I peek up and the purple guy is staring at me so intensely, his eyes focused on my mouth and my fingers, I feel incredibly self-conscious.

“I’m sorry!” I apologize. I didn’t even ask him if I could have the food. I was so hungry I just ate it…

He just shakes his head and then I notice he has a plate in front of him. He picks up the skewer from his plate and extends it in offering.

I bite my lip. I don’t want to be rude and refuse his gift, and I certainly don’t want to anger him. But I also feel guilty by eating his food. Who knows how much food he has on hand?

“Thank you, but you should eat it.”
Looks like your bulging muscles need it.

He shakes his head again and jabs the skewer at me.

My stomach rumbles. “Well, if you insist…”

I reach out and pluck the skewer from his hand. Then I dig in. This time, when I’m finished, I actually take a moment to consider wiping my hands off on something. But there are no napkins and the shirt I’m wearing is the first clean thing I’ve had to wear in days, I really don’t want to sully it. So I lick my fingers clean again.

He stares at me, unabashedly while I do it. His eyes are red hot as my fingers slide in and out of my mouth. I don’t know how I feel about his attention. I have so many conflicting emotions warring inside me. Part of me is still frightened of him. I’ve been afraid of him for weeks. I may very well have the wrong impression, but he is so damn scary looking, it’s hard not to be afraid. Yet another part of me is excited. I don’t know what is wrong with that part of me. It’s excited that he’s giving me his attention, excited that he’s interested in me. It wants to play with the fire.

The thing I know for sure is that I need him and I need him to want to help me. Whatever happened before, I need to just get over it. He’s given me food, protection, and shelter. That speaks more than actual words ever could. I need to focus on staying in his good graces so he continues providing. I have a feeling that I’m going to need his help if I want to get off this rock.

Yet, I do need to be careful he doesn’t get the wrong impression. His eyes are getting that heavy, half-lidded look to them again, and he’s leaning over the table now as if he wants to get closer to me. I promptly pull my fingers from my lips and drop my wet hand to my lap. Yuck.

He frowns and leans back.

I decide to change the subject by asking, “Did your ship crash here?”

He nods his head and picks up a fruit from his plate. The fruit is small, round, and dark blue.

It’s my turn to watch him as he peels the skin off the fruit. His white teeth flash as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a big bite out of it.

“Do any of the communication systems on the ship still function?”

He finishes eating the fruit before answering me. It only takes two more bites and he gives me another shake of his head. A little bit of juice glistens at the corners of his lips. His tongue appears and I’m taken aback. It’s so dark purple it’s almost black, just like his hair. So dark it doesn’t appear to have any color, but in the right light, highlights of purple are revealed. The color reminds me of the black roses that grow back home, in my father’s garden.

“Have you been here for a long time?”

He appears to think before answering with a nod of his head. He grabs up another fruit and begins to peel it.

“Have you been alone?”

Something flashes across his face. I can’t tell if it’s pain or anger. He nods.

“I’m sorry. It must be rough.”

He’s motionless.

Okay, time to change the subject.

“I think we got started on the wrong foot.” I stick out my hand. “I’m Princess Ameia.”

He stares at my hand so long, I think I’m going to have to explain shaking hands to him.

I’m completely flabbergasted when he growls out, “Ameia.”

“Yes!” I exclaim, just happy to hear my name spoken by someone else. “And you are?”

My hand is still hovering in the air when he grunts something I can’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” I frown, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

He grunts again, but it feels hopeless.

I sigh, shake my head, and start to pull my hand back. His hand flies out and he grabs me. I gasp as it feels like my hand was just zapped by his hand. My arm jerks and I try to pull my hand back.

He clutches my fingers and slowly growls.

All I can do is apologize again, “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”

He looks frustrated and smacks the side of his head.
Perhaps it’s some weird compulsion he has when he doesn’t get what he wants?
I’ve seen children do something similar when they’re frustrated.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to use a nickname for you?” I ask, hoping to fix the situation.

He leans his head to the side and moves it as if he’s trying to shake water out of it. As far as I can tell, nothing comes out. He frowns, straightens, and finally nods at me in agreement.

I think for a moment. The last thing I want to do is offend him, but the first words that pop in my head are words like big, scary, demon, alien. I doubt he’ll take kindly to any of those. I could use red, black, or guy. But they don’t seem right either. Certainly not flattering. Whatever his name is, I’m sure it’s something that strikes fear in the hearts of his enemies Killer, Shredder, or, Fluffy

“How about I call you Friend?”

Friend without benefits.

His thick brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“You don’t like that?”

He shakes his head again.

I frown. I’m not sure I like where this is going.

“We’re not friends?”

He shakes his head yet again.
Shit.

I must have gotten the wrong impression. I thought perhaps he was helping me. He must be doing all of this for some other reason. I glance down at my plate. Why did he feed me? Is he feeding me just to fatten me up or something? Gah. I don’t even know what I just ate.

I’m such a naïve fool.

I wiggle my fingers. I try to slip them out of his grasp.

“If we’re not friends, I should probably get going then.”

His grip tightens and he leans closer. “Mine,” he growls.

I about fall over from shock.
Did I just hear that? Did he just speak another word?
There’s no way. No freakin’ way. I must have heard it wrong.

I yank back hard now, I really want my hand back. “What was that?” I ask.

“Mine,” he repeats gruffly. There’s no mistaking it now.

I have to be dreaming.

“You’re hurting me,” I hiss out as his hand crushes my hand.

He let’s go and I yank my hand back. If I was dreaming, the pain would have awoken me.

My hand is throbbing. I’m still awake. This isn’t a dream.

He stands from the other side of the table. I immediately jump to my feet and start to back away from him.

“Hey, I don’t want any problems here…” I say cautiously.

He comes around the side of the table for me. I scoot around the other side keeping the table between us.

“Mine,” he growls again.

“No, I don’t think so, bub!”

He starts to come for me. I move, keeping the table between us.

“Let’s get this straight right now. I’m not yours! And you need to keep your distance!”

He frowns darkly at me then he says softly, “Mine.” He forms a fist with his right hand and pounds it against his chest.