Reader Abduction (Alien Abduction Book 7)

C
opyright © October 2015
, Eve Langlais

Cover Art by Yocla Designs © December 2015

Edited by Devin Govaere

2
^nd
Edit by Amanda Pederick

Copy Edited by Brieanna Robertson

Produced in Canada

Published by Eve Langlais :
http://www.EveLanglais.com

1606 Main Street, PO Box 151, Stittsville, Ontario, Canada, K2S1A3

A
LL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reader Abduction
is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

F
irst and foremost
, I want to give a shout out to the readers who keep inspiring me to write stories of purple abduction and galaxies, far, far away. You guys rock!

Next, I need to thank the authors who graciously allowed me to use them for cameo appearances to give this story a realistic feel (because we all know abductions by purple hunks can happen!)

In no particular order, thank you to:
Milly Taiden
,
Robyn Peterman
,
Viola Grace
,
S.E. Smith
,
Zoe York
,
Cynthia St. Aubin
,
Donna McDonald
and her awesome husband, Bruce.

A special shout out too to Bambi Fogleman who is my biggest purple fan and has been an awesome help this past year. Super hugs!

And now, without further ado, please indulge in the wickedness that is Alien Abduction, purple style.

H
ot damn
.
Those were the only words Brigitte could coherently think of to describe the dude. Although she did hear a few muttered adjectives that also worked like, “sexy,” and “doable.” Totally doable.

The object of her stare proved hard to miss with his purple-tinted skin and swashbuckling appearance. Picture skintight, black leather pants—cupping an impressive bulge she really should ignore—a silky white shirt that splayed open from his waist up, and knee-high black boots. He also sported a low-hanging hip holster and an earring in one ear. Dressed as a mercenary pirate, he managed to draw more than one curious—and lustful—gaze his way.

Brigitte intercepted the purple pirate before he got mobbed, which, judging by the amount of phones being held up along with tablets for pictures, was imminent. She’d seen it before at other conferences with male models. First, the shy readers would ogle and giggle from afar then, as soon as one brave woman ventured forth and asked for a picture, the rest would follow and Brigitte would never get to speak to him.

And, boy, did she want to speak to him.
Touch as well. Definitely touch to see if his skin truly is as smooth and velvety as it looks.
The man surely waxed for his chest to appear so perfect. His shirt gaped enough for her to see the firm ridges of his muscles and pectorals—his flat pectorals.

I wonder how he managed to mask his nipples.
When Brigitte had submitted the request to the modeling agency, she had asked for an attempt to keep the pectoral area hidden or masked so as to match the galactic male characters in Eve Langlais’ Alien Abduction series.

It had been Eve’s idea to have pretend aliens for the conference, and Brigitte had made sure to bring it to fruition because, sigh,
I love purple.

As part of the fun and festivities for the annual Romancing the Capital event held in Ottawa, Canada, Eve decided to treat the readers to a chance to meet and pose with a sexy alien specimen. Brigitte made it happen. The modeling agency had come through with flying purple colors.
I am impressed by how well they managed to match the request.
Well over six foot, with a well-toned body, dark hair, and gorgeous bright blue eyes, the guy looked the part of a Kulin alien warrior to a T, from the skin color to the missing nipples.

For just a moment, Brigitte glanced down at his groin, and despite knowing there was no way the modeling agency would have fulfilled the joking request to have a man missing his balls, she couldn’t help but wonder…

Bad girl. Bad,
bad
girl. Would he perhaps want to spank her for the direction of her thoughts?

Get your mind in the game and out of the gutter.
She had a job to do, and it involved making sure the conference ran smoothly—not stroking his smoothness.

Tucking her clipboard under her arm, Brigitte strode toward him and pasted a smile on her face, hoping he couldn’t sense the fluttery butterflies in her stomach. For some reason, the idea of talking to him made her a little nervous. Really hot guys always did. But she had a job to do, so hopefully, she wouldn’t stammer or completely embarrass herself.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled and said, “Hello there. You’re early. We weren’t expecting you or the other models until the evening event.”

Piercing blue eyes dropped to gaze upon her. They didn’t hold her stare for long, as his glance moved lower to take in her entire appearance.

She strove not to shift under his perusal, well aware of her looks. Not exactly super tall, or short, Brigitte stood an average five-foot-five, a curvy size sixteen, and didn’t hide it in her form-fitting yoga pants or oversized T-shirt that stated, “I take my boyfriends to bed every night,” with a picture of a stack of books. His gaze lingered on the material stretching over her breasts and stopped to stare longer at the vee between her thighs. Blush. Then his eyes returned to check out her upper half again, and she clenched a fist at her side lest she attempt to smooth back a stray hair. Her long mop, a boring brown and currently scraped back into a ponytail, didn’t scream sexy vixen, and yet, did she imagine it or did she note a gleam of interest in his eyes?

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she gasped. “Good grief. You even got the teeth right.” His jagged dentition gleamed in his mouth. Sharp points, just as they were described in the books, and a brilliant white, which contrasted with his full, black lips.

A stream of gibberish left his lips as he gestured with a hand. She noted the other hung down at his side, clasping a holstered weapon right out of some kind of sci-fi space movie.

The guy truly was in character, and he drew attention. The crowd of women in the hallway outside the conference rooms had grown, as had the excited murmurs and titters. Much as she would have liked to stand and chat a while longer, she couldn’t. Her attention was required elsewhere. She shoved her keycard into his hand. “Listen, I know Eve wants to reveal you herself later on at the evening party, so if you don’t mind, unless you’ve got somewhere you can go for a few hours, I’m going to stash you in my room. Sixth floor, room 669.” A hot blush infused her cheeks as she said it because she couldn’t help but picture the act—with him, sans balls. Good grief. It didn’t help that she couldn’t help wondering,
Did he dip himself in purple all over?

“Mkdhsdtre.” Again, he mumbled gobbledygook.

“Love your enthusiasm for the job, dude. Save the alien language for later. Oh, and if you do go to my room, could you sit on a towel just in case your purple dye rubs off?” She didn’t need her credit card getting dinged for extra cleaning costs. “Go. Quick. Before the mob gets its hands on you.” With that final warning, she gave him a shove in the direction of the elevators, trying to ignore the hard feel of his muscles under his thin shirt. Forget ignore. She wanted to run her hands over them, without the damned shirt in the way.

I really need to get laid.
Or read a
good
book. She never went to bed without a book or her battery-operated vibrator—and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

As the elevator doors slid shut behind his eminently hot ass—that really deserved a set of teeth marks,
mine
—she found herself mobbed by the women clustering in the hall.

“Who was that?”

“Can we meet him?”

“I love purple!”

Who didn’t?

Raising her hands, Brigitte had to almost yell to be heard over the excited chatter. “Ladies.”

A few snickers. “She called us ladies.”

Her lips twitched. “Ladies, and not so ladylike ladies, that guy you saw is part of tonight’s surprise at dinner. So be sure to show up, and remember, you never know when an alien abduction might happen, so be sure to wear your nicest undies.”

The laughter was expected, and as Brigitte dealt with the various tasks over the course of the afternoon, she now wished she’d brought a nice pair of undergarments with her. Plain white cotton, high-waisted briefs didn’t scream sexy. But then again, now in her thirties, single, and currently not interested in dealing with another idiot man—she enjoyed controlling the remote too much—she didn’t really have a need for uncomfortable, chafing, lacy thong panties.

When the afternoon activities tapered around five that afternoon, she returned to her room, honestly not expecting the purple-dipped model to have stayed. Why would he? Her room wasn’t exciting by any means. Then again, where could a six-foot-plus purple dude dressed like a pirate with a plastic galactic gun go?

Slipping her second keycard into the reader for her door, Brigitte stepped in, convinced he was gone, only to stop dead at the gun pointed in her face.