The Abduction (5 page)

The gold eyes opened, as if he’d sensed her staring. He
blinked at her, annoyed, and sat up. “Yes?”

“So I guess we should get to know each other if we’re going to be cohabitating for the foreseeable future.
” She cleared her throat. “What do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“For a living. Your job.”

“I am an architect,” he said proudly
, sitting higher up. Then he sighed. “Assistant… architect. I still have one year left in my training.”

She eyed him, trying to get a better idea on his age. She was a little surprised to hear the clawed and fanged creature having such a ‘normal’ career title,
and then admonished herself with the idea that every built civilization had architects.

“You said you have a brother?”

“My elder. Rikist Sa Tskir. He is a decorated officer in our military, fighting the resistance on one of outer islands.”

“
Resistance?” Samantha’s brow shot up.

Krissik nodded, and shut his computer.
“Since the war there have been pockets of rebels that have been trying to ignite a civil disruption due to the oppression of cities that did not fight in the name of the Tsiari, among other things...” He shot her a sideways glance. “We have been able to squash them mostly without issue, but lately their numbers have been growing.”

Samantha sat back, digesting the news. She wondered
what those ‘other things’ were, and if there were any risk of combat here in the city. Though Krissik did not seem concerned and she figured that it probably was not as bad as she imagined.

“You said
your brother was on an outer island? Are
we
on an island?”

He nodded. “Our planet is mostly water, the land
is divided up in strings of connected islands and small continents. Which has made it easier to quell the resistance because of distance needed for them to join forces. Hard for them to acquire ships.”

Krissik
’s hand lifted to Samantha’s face, and she froze as his claws brushed against the side of her head. The sharp tips ran through her straight hair, gently pushing the hair back behind her ear.

“Do not worry,” he said. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

He let his fingers linger on her jaw, and then pulled back and reclined on the couch.

Samantha willed her heart to settle. His simple act of touching her hair
had made her heart race and palms sweaty, and she pulled out her tissue from her pocket to give her something to keep her hands busy. He’d told her he wouldn’t hurt her, but the view of his claws and memory of his inhuman strength made his touch feel as if she’d been nuzzled by a tiger: he was pretty to look at, but able to lop her head off with one swipe. She stood and walked toward the bathroom, needing some distance. She pulled out the foil package of cold capsules as she pushed the door open and a hand suddenly caught her wrist. She gasped and looked up to see the wall that was Krissik’s chest. She hadn’t even heard him move.

Krissik
’s gold eyes stared down at the package in her hand. His nostrils flared as he bent down to sniff at the packaging, and then jerked upright.

“What is this?” he demanded. When she didn’t answer, he gave her wrist a shake. “What is this?”

“You’re hurting me.” Samantha scowled at him until his grip lessened. “It’s just medicine for my cold.”

“Your what?”

“My cold. I’m sick.”

Krissik
let go and stepped back as if she’d burned him. A low rumble rolled out between his bared fangs. “You carry sickness?”

“It’s not serious.”
Samantha’s eyes widened at his sudden alarm. “My sinuses are just acting up. It is very common at home.”

He
hesitated, and then held out one hand. “Give it here.”

Samantha gripped the package. “No.”

He barked out a short string of words that did not translate, his eyes blazing. “That is why it did not work!”

“Why
what
didn’t work?” Samantha titled her head to one side, lost.

“I should have searched you better. There is nothing wrong with me.”

Memories of being engulfed in honey waves and near uncontrollable lust boiling in her gut until her lower half felt like it would burst flooded Samantha’s mind. She remembered the smell of mint on his breath as he kissed her—the same scent of the bottle she’d spilled. Anger rushed under her skin.

Oh, he
so didn’t…

Her head snapped up.
“You tried to drug me!”

Krissik
stopped his ranting, and glared at her. “No.”

“The mint-smelling vial I knocked over. What was in it?”

“I did not drug you.”

“God damn it,
Kris, quit pussyfooting around and just answer me. What was in the bottle?”

His lips
twitched. “Genetically altered human pheromones.”

She hesitated.
“Come again?”

“Comb
ined with our saliva, it creates pheromones one hundred times more powerful than naturally produced in the human body.”

“You son of a bitch,” she breathed.
She pushed at his chest. “That’s how you nearly pushed me over the edge.”

“I was told it was necessary
.”

“For what? To mate
with you? Don’t you know you can’t just douse yourself in perfume and expect to just start going at it without first…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at him, at the way he hunched his shoulders protectively and his eyes would not meet hers. “You… don’t, do you?”

Krissik
stared at her silently in a sullen face.

“You’ve never done any of this before, have you?” She paused. “With a woman, or…” She didn’t have to finish; the deep purple blush that had crept up Krissik’s neck and cheeks said everything.

Samantha covered her face with her hands. She let her hands drop with a sigh and sat down on the armchair by the window, rubbing her temples. Her head absolutely ached, and her nose felt clogged to the point she thought she’d need all of the tissue on the damn planet to clear her lungs.

“How old are you?” she asked after a moment. She peered over at him.

Krissik leaned against the kitchen countertop. “Sixty-two seasons.” He ignored Samantha’s shocked look, and squinted his eyes toward the ceiling, thinking. “In your planet’s measure of time… I think it is about a third of that in your years. Our orbital rotations are much faster than the solar—”

“I-I get it.
You don’t need to explain.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, tucking the dress around her ankles. She did the math herself, putting him several years shy of her twenty-five.
He’s just a damn kid!
“You’ve never done any of this before, have you?”

Krissik
hesitated, his cheeks coloring deeper, and then shook his head. “This is… the first time I have been eligible for the jump.”

“Jump?”

“Going to your planet. There is a specific time frame in which males are eligible to find a mate.”

“
You mean this whole mate-snatching thing is organized? And the ‘they’ you keep referring to is your government, isn’t it?”

“I… I am not supposed to talk about that…”

“Kris, you at least owe me an explanation.”

“I could get into trouble…”

“Please.”

The door to the apartment beeped, and they both turned their heads as the
front door swung open and a second alien stood in the doorway with a bag in hand, hair billowing out about his head like a fiery halo and eyes blazing.

The man
stood taller than Krissik by a good several inches, and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds of muscle throughout his broad chest, shoulders, and arms accented by the navy blue uniform jacket and sweeping cloak. A gold aiguillette draped across his right shoulder, and a thick braided cord of gold and silver hung across his chest beneath rows of striped pins. His jaw was square and straight, sliced on the right side by a jagged scar. The faded stripes on his cheeks and neck were barely visible in the tan face framed by wavy, auburn hair that brushed just past his shoulders.

Samantha swallowed as the dark, amber eyes roamed over her in a full once over. She felt as though she’d been admiring a
massive lion at the zoo, only to realize the glass had disappeared as it licked it’s chops. She marveled at the strength and feeling of danger radiating off him in waves that made her hair stand on end and her heart pound. She felt terrified at the feral intensity in the feline eyes, yet mystified by absolute beauty of something so wild and—

Handsome
.

She had the sudden urge to pet and run her hands over such an untamed and ferocious thing, to feel the strong muscles and soft fur slide beneath her fingertips…

She jerked her head to shake the thought.
What am I thinking? He’s an alien for God’s sake. I shouldn’t even entertain the thought…

“Rikist,” Krissik cleared his throat and pushed away from the counter to greet the man. “I thought you were on deployment? What are you doing here?”

The dark amber eyes swept between Krissik and Samantha.

“You obviously have not been keeping up on the news.” Rikist said, his voice low and smooth. His nostrils flared. “What happened to your face?”

Krissik
blanched, his eyes darting for a split second to Samantha, who cowered under Rikist’s gaze. Rikist raised his eyebrows at Samantha, and then sneered at Krissik, showing off long, sharp canines.

“Really?”

Krissik swallowed, his cheeks red, and took the bag from Rikist. “It was an accident.”

Rikist let out a deep, rolling chuckle
as he stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Now standing fully in the apartment’s light, Samantha noticed the crutch under Rikist’s left arm and the thick metal leg brace reaching up to his left thigh.

Krissik
stared. “You have been wounded?”

Rikist limped
heavily to the small kitchen table and sat into the nearest chair. He grunted and stretched out his leg, the brace creaking. “A missile took out half my ship on the east coast of Sitika. I was hit by the shrapnel and tore my anterior cruciate ligament in the fall.”

“You did not send word.”
Krissik looked hurt.

“I figured you were…” Rikist glanced at Samantha and back. “Occupied.”

Krissik stepped behind Rikist’s chair, and helped Rikist unclasp the cloak and shuck out of his jacket. He draped the uniform over the back of the chair and rested his hands on Rikist’s shoulders.

“Did you
at least win?”

Rikist looked up and grinned smugly. “Of course.”

Krissik smiled, flashing fangs. “So how long will you be home this time?”

Rikist frowned and leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his face
. He suddenly looked exhausted. “I have been put on six weeks medical leave.”

“So your wounds are extensive enough to warrant a long rest.” Krissik frowned.
He glanced at his brother’s leg. “And why is a break in duty a bad thing?”

“When it means being stuck in an apartment instead of
on the water with my ship?” Rikist sighed, and then nodded his head toward Samantha. “Are you going to introduce us?”

Krissik
started, and stepped closer to Samantha. “Apologies,” he said to her when she shied away. He took her hand and turned her toward Rikist. “This is my older brother, Rikist Sa Tskir. Rikist, this is Sam-tha.”

“Samantha,”
she corrected, and then immediately regretted it when she felt Rikist’s gaze bore into skull. She forcibly swallowed her heart back into her chest.

Krissik
nudged her forward from behind. “He is the house head,” he whispered. “You need to greet him.”

Rikist tilted his head to look past Samantha at
Krissik, annoyance clear on his tired face. Then he sighed and held out his hand to Samantha.

“My brother is into formalities,” he explained.

Samantha stepped closer and stared at the small, white crisscrossing of scars that marred the knuckles and wrist of the clawed hand. Her stomach flipped as Rikist growled and reached out to take her right hand hanging by her side, and brushed her wrist against the underside of his jaw before laying a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Samantha pulled her
arm back and stuttered, “Ricks…”

“Rikist,” he corrected
slowly in his resonant voice. He seemed to consider her for a moment, and then gave her a ghost of a smile. “Welcome home, Samantha of House Sa Tskir.”

Samantha merely nodded
, her head spinning.

Krissik
hefted Rikist’s bag over his shoulder. “I need to… clear out your room.”

The smile left
Rikist’s face and his eyes narrowed.

“It served as an excellent study while you were away,”
Krissik quickly explained. He shrugged apologetically. “I needed a place to spread out my plans and drawings. I will ready it for you.” He turned to Samantha. “Do you need anything?”

She shook her head.
“I’m OK.”

Krissik
nodded, and then carried Rikist’s duffle into the bedroom on the left and shut the door. The muffled sound of moving papers and stacking books came through the wall to break the sudden silence.

Samantha fiddled with her hands
as Rikist rested his head on his crossed arms against the table. Her sinuses screamed, and she sneezed painfully.

Rik
ist looked up. “Are you well?”

She hesitated, remembering how
Krissik had reacted to her carrying ‘sickness’. She shook her head. “I’m… just fighting a cold. My sinuses are clogged.” She reached into her pocket to punch out two gel capsules.

Rikist reached out and
snatched the foil package from her unresisting fingers and held them up to the overhead light. He frowned and tossed the package onto the counter.

“
My brother did not give you Kisu?”

Samantha stared blankly at him.
What the hell is kisu?

Rikist
grunted and forced himself to his feet with the help of his crutch, an annoyed set to his jaw, and limped into the kitchen to rummage through the upper cabinets. He pulled out a steel pot and a glass canister of dried herbs and turned on the sink. “Come here.”

Samantha pondered the idea of simply curling up on the couch and ignoring him, but decided
with two aliens in the apartment that it would be in her best interest if she just tried to survive the day with no incidents.

“You really don’t have to—”

“I don’t believe I asked you.”

She
frowned and sidled up to him, annoyance burning her ears. “What?”

“Are you going to question everything I say?” he muttered.

Rikist filled the pot half full with water and then crushed a handful of the herbs inside. He set the pot on one burner and turned on the heat. Within seconds the water bubbled and boiled, and heavy steam rose in a thick cloud.

“
Breathe in the steam,” he said.

Samantha hesitated, wary of
the herbs after the revelation of Krissik’ use of the pheromones, and then leaned over and breathed in the steam. The smell caused Samantha to sneeze violently. She coughed at the putrid stench, but was surprised at the near immediate relief. She turned her head to look at Rikist, but his firm yet gentle hand on the back of her neck kept her face down above the pot.

“Stay
still,” he said, his voice gruff.

“What—” she started, before having to sneeze again. “What is that—”

“Quit squirming.”

Several body wracking sneezes over the steaming pot and Samantha was pos
itively exhausted, though breathing clear and headache free. She wiped at her face with a clean towel, watching Rikist lean against the kitchen counter to take the weight off his wounded leg, a pained expression on his face as he breathed through his mouth.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Rikist straightened and nodded once, then moved to the refrigerator. He opened the left side and pulled out two ice packs and handed them to Samantha.

“Can you carry these to the couch?”

He grabbed three bottles from the refrigerator and juggled them with his crutch as he hobbled—slower than before—into the living room. He nearly collapsed into the armchair and propped his wounded leg on the low table.

Samantha followed and
handed him the ice packs, and then sat as far away as she could on opposite end of the couch, curling her legs under. She glanced at the closed bedroom door, hoping to catch a glance of Krissik. As much as she resented Krissik for abducting her, she felt relatively safe when he was nearby. His large and scarred brother, on the other hand, set her fight or flight senses on high alert.

Rikist
pressed the ice packs against his knee through the brace. He pulled out a vial of white pills from his pants pocket, shook two pills into his hand and popped them between his teeth. He twisted the top off the first bottle and downed it and the pills quickly, letting out a satisfied sigh. He caught Samantha staring.

“Feel b
etter?” he asked her.

“
Much. Thank you.” She frowned, debating whether she should speak. “Should you be drinking while taking pain meds?”

He rolled his eyes at her and twisted off the top of the second bottle.

“I’m just saying—” she began.

“You have a mate you can bitch at.”
Rikist cut her off. “I’m off limits.”

She crossed her arms
and focused her attention on the monitor on the wall as he put the bottle to his lips. It was bad enough she had to be here at all; she definitely did not want to spend the next six weeks being roommates with a gorgeous asshole on meds.

The
screen showed shaky footage of an aerial camera screening footage of a battle going on between several massive military ships and battlements spread along a rocky coastline. Fiery explosions popped through the low volume of the speakers. A mug shot of Rikist in full battle dress and tilted beret appeared above scrolling alien text. Samantha sat up, trying to listen to the anchor as the shaky image of an exploding ship appeared next to his photo.

The channel suddenly changed as Rikist swiped his hand across the glass remote. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair
, ignoring Samantha’s annoyed look. “Krissik?” he called.

“A
lmost done,” came the muffled reply.

“I was watching that,” Samantha said pointedly.

Rikist shrugged. His eyes stayed closed.

She glared at him. “Being wounded doesn’t give you the right to be such a dick.”

A snort of surprise escaped Rikist’s tight lips, and Samantha could see the humor in his eyes when he turned his head to peer at her.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not exactly happy about being here.” She narrowed her eyes. “So lay off.”

Rikist frowned and looked away without a word.

Samantha curled her hands into claws and looked to the ceiling. His mood seemed to flip on a switch, and it irritated the hell out of her.

“
Are you going to drink all of those?” she asked suddenly. “The beer. Alcohol… whatever you call them.”

Rikist lifted an eyebrow.
“Are you wanting one?”

“
I could use it.”

He seemed to think about it, and then
held out the third bottle. Samantha plucked it from his fingers and sat back on the couch. She used the edge of her dress to grip the cap and twist it off before taking several long chugs. The watery brew was very light and barely warmed her throat on the way down to her belly.
This crap makes light beer taste like shots…
She wiped her lips with the back on her free hand after half the bottle had disappeared. She looked up at Rikist, who stared at her with an openly amused expression.

“Sorry,” Samantha said.

He waved her away. “It will help you relax. You seem to need it.”

“That obvious, huh?”

Rikist grimaced as he shifted position, one hand going to press on his wounded leg. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the top of the chair. “My brother is a good man. Young. Inexperienced. But he will make you happy if you give him the chance.”