Reader Abduction (Alien Abduction Book 7) (10 page)

S
o as it turned out
, there were much worse things than being kidnapped by a hot purple guy who didn’t know how to treat a woman.

Much worse things, like getting grabbed by a hulking, smelly dude—with a pig snout!—and dissolved then reassembled in a dirty room, with her wearing his filthy shirt.

The one bright moment? Her newest kidnapper wore her silky bandeau top.

Not for long. Rip. Mr. Green and Smelly tore it from him as snorts and grunts echoed in the room as his buddies mocked him.

The translator allowed her to hear what her newest kidnappers said, but this proved one instance where she would have preferred not to.

“Where are the others? Why did you return alone and with only one of the Earth creatures?”

“The others are dead. The purple warriors killed them.” Which, without the translator, might have sounded like
snort, grunt, whee, whee, snort.

“Fewer mouths means more tasty meat for us.” Fat tongues licked bulbous lips, and she could have gagged.

But, instead, she couldn’t help but squeal. “Phyr! You came for me!” Looking utterly rakish in his open shirt, tight-fitting pants, boots, and one gleaming earring, Phyr arrived, gun in one hand, while something dangled in the other.

Bright blue eyes assessed her from the doorway to the room. “Have they harmed you?”

“Not yet. They plan to share me.”

“I don’t share,” was his retort.

“Hard to share if you’re dead,” snuffled the one whose shirt she wore. “Get him.”

Zap.
Thump
. A body hit the floor. The casual ease of Phyr’s deadly shot froze them. “Do none of your kind know how to read or listen to rumors? I am the one known as Ghostfire. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

“You’re a thief, not an assassin,” said the biggest of the pig dudes.

“Wrong.” Sizzle. Another pig dude hit the floor, and she could have slapped herself for the sudden urge she had for crispy bacon. “I am a warrior of many talents. One of them is killing. And since dead creatures don’t talk…” He smiled a wicked smile. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“There’s only one of the bastards. Kill him,” one piggy pirate yelled. He died next.

Phyr ducked as the pirates finally unfroze enough to return fire.

Their leader was less than impressed. “Stop shooting, you idiots. You’ll depressurize the ship.”

“Only if they miss.”
Bzzt.
Another one bit the dust. “I never do.” Phyr smiled.

“You’re out of shots.”

Phyr cast a casual glance at his weapon. “Indeed I am.” He holstered it and drew a knife. “You’ll still die.”

“There’s only one of you,” the leader announced, “and still almost a dozen of us.” Of which six were in that room, advancing on Phyr. “You won’t escape this ship alive.”

“The only ones dying today are you and your crew because no one—” Phyr darted so quickly she didn’t have time to suck in a breath before he was dancing away from the body falling to the floor. “And I mean no one.” Gurgle as he lunged and slashed at another pirate. “Steals what is mine.”

She might have sighed at his words if she’d managed to avoid the arm that wrapped around her neck for a second time that day. She gripped it, but couldn’t budge it.

“Surrender or the female dies.”

Looking nonchalant, Phyr leaned against the wall, one foot propped on his latest conquest. He waved a plastic tab. “You might want to rethink that. If you don’t let her go and find where I left the bomb, then we all die. Actually, you will. My ship has a lock on me and is ready to teleport me back. But you have nowhere to go.”

The arm around her neck tightened. “You lie. You would never plant a bomb so close to your own vessel. The shockwave from the blast would greatly damage your ship, maybe even destroy it.”

“Tick. Tock. That is the sound of the little gears inside the explosive capsule clicking their way to contact.”

“Grawr.” With a yell and a shove, Brigitte went stumbling right into Phyr, who was suddenly there to catch her. The pig dude and the buddies he had left went bolting amidst shouts of, “Find it,” and, “Disarm it.”

Before she could say a word, Phyr wrapped her tightly in his arms and muttered, “Ju’el, beam us aboard now.” And was it her, or did she hear a softer spoken, “And don’t mix any of our parts.”

The second teleport proved as freaky as the first, and this time, she was missing not only the dirty shirt, but also her skirt when she found her feet on the cold metal deck of his ship.

“Put this on,” he barked, “this” being his shirt.

As she tugged the overly large sleeves over her arms and tucked the fabric still warm from his body around her, she peeked at Phyr, ready to give her thanks, but he didn’t have eyes for her. He dove into his chair. He’d had them teleported right onto the bridge.

“Engage thrusters, activate the shields. We need to get out of this zone, and fast, or our spirits will roam Badspace forever.”

“You mean you really activated a bomb on their ship?”

He took a moment to glance at her and retort, “Of course I did. They stole from me. That couldn’t go unpunished.”

“But didn’t you also steal me?”

He shot her a slow, sexy smile. “Yes. And you can thank me later, after we clear the blast area. Ju’el, how far do we need to go to avoid the impact ring?”

No answer.

“Ju’el? I know you can talk, so there is no longer any point in hiding it.”

“The commander needs to pilot the ship to the edge of the asteroid field. Once beyond it, we should have enough distance to suffer only mild effects of the explosion.”

“You heard my precious. Zus. Zor. Give us as much power as you can spare and then some.”

“I’m already giving as much as I can. The only thing left is the life support system.”

“Pull some of that, too. Won’t be any point in having a life support system if we’re dead,” he snapped. “Get over here.”

Brigitte looked behind her and saw no one.

“You. Female. Get over here and sit down before you get knocked off your feet. I did not risk all the molecules in my body to see your head bashed open if you lose your footing.”

“Is this your way of saying you like me?” She meant it as a tease, but he frowned.

“Are you implying I’m soft?”

Sitting on him, she laughed as she wiggled. “Most definitely not.”

“Detecting a large disturbance in the asteroid field,” Ju’el announced. “Sensors indicate an explosion. Debris is being pushed and is piling in a wave as the force of the blast spreads outward.”

“How far until the end of the asteroid belt?”

“Countdown to exit in seven, six, five, four, three. Frukx.”

“Ju’el, did you just curse?” Brigitte asked.

“Frukx,” Phyr repeated.

Since his gaze seemed intent on the screen behind her, she turned to take a look. On the screen appeared a swirling black hole that she might not have noticed if it weren’t for the circular motion of rocks, spinning in a vortex before disappearing at the far end. And was it her or did they seem to be heading right for it?

“What is that?”

“Not good,” was his reply. “I’ll wager that’s a class ten black hole. Ju’el, what is our probability of survival?”

“Zero point zero five percent.” Ju’el didn’t even try to sugarcoat it.

The bleak number had her whisper, “I don’t understand. I thought black holes were like portals to other galaxies.”

“The smaller ones can be if a vessel is properly shielded. But the big ones are too strong. The size of this one, especially since our shields are down, will rip this ship apart.”

“So don’t go in it!” she exclaimed.

“Too late. We flew out of the asteroid field with too much momentum, and we’ve gotten caught by its pull.”

“So that’s it? You’re giving up?”

“No, now we pray to a god to help us.”

“Screw praying. I want one last kiss.” She grabbed him by the cheeks and plastered her lips over his. The touch proved electric, their mouths hungry. Hot. Panting.

The sizzle between them proved almost palpable, enough that her hair stood on end. But wait, that wasn’t the kiss. That was the black hole making itself known.

Everything hummed. The ship. Her teeth. Hair. Skin. Reality itself pulled at her. She felt her body trying to break apart, and she couldn’t help but curse instead of praying to the one god she was sure laughed at this moment.

She was sure Murphy laughed because wouldn’t you know that, when she finally found a man willing to risk his life for hers, she was about to die inside some stupid black hole?

I hate you, Murphy.

And just as she thought her eyeballs would fall out of her head, she could have sworn she heard a reply.
Save the hate for later. I’m not done with you yet.

T
he manly bellow
Phyr uttered did nothing to change the visage hovering over his.

“Mother! What the frukx are you doing here? Are you dead, too?” Because the last thing Phyr recalled, cosmic forces had pulled his body apart.

“Dead? Why would I be dead? If I were dead, would I have to demand to know how your ship suddenly emerged out of nowhere? Our elite planetary defense force almost blew your vessel out of the sky. A good thing your onboard computer managed to relate a communication to the ground forces or your remains would be fertilizing the fields.”

“I’m home?” As Phyr pushed himself up on to his elbows, he noted he had indeed, in some weird twist of fate, arrived back on his world. Not just anywhere on his homeworld. He currently resided in his bed. Alone. An invisible fist grabbed at his heart and held it in a tight vise. “Brigitte? Where is she?”

Pulling away from him, his mother turned and busied herself with pouring a steaming mug of viji from a carafe. “Are you speaking of one of the females? We retrieved them from your ship. They are alive and being prepared as we speak for the auction.”

Don’t ask. Don’t show an interest. Don’t—
too late. “Is Brigitte one of them?”

A piercing gaze caught his as his mother turned, hands wrapped around the mug that she handed him. “Is that the name of the female we found on the bridge? She is with the other females you retrieved from Earth. Given our conversation before about you not keeping her, I assumed that was what you wanted to do.”

No. He wanted Brigitte with him. His pride just wouldn’t let him say it aloud. Profit was everything. Caring was weakness. Knowing this didn’t stop him from asking, “She is uninjured?”

“Yes. It’s quite miraculous actually, given what we managed to discern from your ship logs. How you survived a black hole of that magnitude is surely the goddess Karma taking an interest in your welfare.”

More like Murphy taunting him with the fact that he’d found a female he wanted to keep around, yet his pride wouldn’t let him say so to his mother. “When is the auction occurring?”

“Soon. But you needn’t worry about the details. You’ve done your part. I’ll handle the rest of it. There is much interest in the females. We’ll make a good profit.” His mother beamed in pride.

He scowled. “Perhaps no one will buy them.” Perhaps no one would want Brigitte. A foolish fantasy.

“Fear not. There is much talk already about who will go for the highest price. I predict the one you call Brigitte will fetch the best number.”

“I thought you said she was old and boring.”

A sly smile crossed his mother’s lips. “There is much to be said for experience, and according to our medical scans, she is in excellent health. She will bear some warrior many fine sons.”

Sons with another male? He clenched his fists at the thought, yet the anger simmered below his skin, flushing him with heat, enough that his mother noticed. “Are you ill? Suffering from the effects of your ordeal? Should I dress you in a gown and call you daughter?”

Through clenched teeth, he muttered, “I am in excellent shape. Just needing to get out of this bed and entertain myself in the training rings.”

Except…the training rings were in the opposite direction from where he strode, eschewing transportation in the hopes a brisk walk and fresh air—as opposed to the stale, recycled kind of a ship—would clear his mind.

It didn’t.

He entered the building that housed the auditorium for the auction—and kept the females from Earth sequestered until the main event. Had anyone asked, he couldn’t have said what he planned. His thoughts proved a muddle. A side effect of the black hole he’d survived?

Or something more insidious?

Stalking the halls, he growled at anybody who thought to get in his way. A few of the workers met his fist. He behaved very badly. The only reason none dared to escort him from the premises was because of who he was.

Ghostfire, renowned acquisition specialist throughout the galaxy and a prince on his home world, Aressotle. One day, when his mother died, he would be king. He would rule the various mercenary clans in his province. As such, he had a duty. One of them was that his people expected him to wed for power. As their prince, he would wed for alliance. But as a son and a male, he preferred to run from his responsibilities because all the eligible females presented thus far bored him and made him want to commit murder. Families looking for alliance frowned on their daughters being beheaded, or so his mother explained.

He didn’t want to mate.

Or should he say he’d never considered it before he met a certain barbarian. A female he should have disdained, but instead, he couldn’t help but go find her.

The question was, what would he do once he did?