Alien Brute's Captive - Aya Morningstar Page 0,4

see those perfect eyes and that too-sweet face smile at me, trust building in her delicate features, I feel the slightest little hint of remorse. I fight it back, ready to lie through my teeth.

“Where are we? What year is it?” she asks.

I’ll lie when needed, but the truth will have to do here. If I make up a year, I might go too far back, and then she’ll know I’m lying. If she’s from 2200, and I say it’s 2180, she’ll know I’m full of shit.

“It’s 2621. We’re a few months from Arcturus.”

There’s no need to lie yet. Most of the lying will have to come in when she asks about me.

“What are you rescuing me from?” she asks.

“Well,” I say, “Jason there had a gun to your head. I rescued you from that.”

She looks around nervously.

“You don’t know why you’re on this ship, do you?”

“I have no idea,” she says. “It’s really 2600?”

“2621,” I say.

She leans against one of the cryo chambers and sighs. She takes in several deep breaths. “And where the hell is Arcturus?”

“Thirty-six light years from Earth,” I say. “It’s the home system of my people. The Cygnians. It was a translation error from first contact. You thought we were from Cygnus, and the name stuck.”

“I have no idea where Cygnus is.” she says. “Is there any way for me to go back? Is time travel a thing?”

Hmmm. I could lie and tell her I’m with the time police. That her family from her time sent me to bring her back, but she might be joking with her question, or she might ask me what time my family is from.

She’s hyperventilating. Tears are streaming down her face. Fuck it. I should just toss her over my shoulder and get her off this ship. I could get her to where I breached fast enough, but getting her suited up and over to my ship when she’s not cooperating would be a tall order.

Against my better judgment, I get closer to her. Very close.

5

Catherine

He leans in toward me. His hand grips my shoulder; it’s a gentle touch. A warm and wonderful one. Why does this man--this alien--smell so good? The smile I give him as his scent nearly suffocates me is almost entirely involuntary. It feels so nice for him to touch me that I want to cry.

Okay, I’m already crying. But it makes me want to cry tears of joy instead of tears of sorrow.

“Hey, hey,” he says. He touches his gloved hands to my cheek, wiping the tears away. “Let’s start simple, yeah? I’m Krakon.”

“Catherine,” I say. Then I laugh, like a middle school girl too nervous to talk to her crush. “I mean, uh, you already knew that.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, his voice silky smooth. “Let’s start walking together. Okay? I’ll talk to you on the way. Catch you up.”

“Okay,” I say.

He takes my hand. He holds my hand. If his hand on my shoulder felt nice, this is so much better.

God, how tall is he? At least six-foot-seven. Probably taller. And his body is sin incarnate. It’s the most masculine thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I remember reading about the “Superhero” workouts that people like Chris Evans would do. They spent six hours a day exercising. Eating diets with almost zero fat. All to make their bodies look superhuman.

Krakon is so far beyond that, and he makes it seem effortless. His shoulders and back muscles ripple against his skin-tight suit as he guides me forward. His muscles are so natural and perfectly sculpted. The guys on Earth who trained to move cars or tree trunks, their muscles got so big they lost mobility. They looked almost fat and bloated. Krakon is graceful. Elegant. And yet I’m sure he could probably crush any human man with his bare hands.

He looks back at me, and those pure blue eyes shine like tanzanites. His eyes are still white, but the pupils are the purest and most welcoming blue I think I’ll ever see. Orange patterns line his face. They look like tattoos, but they run so naturally along the contours of his face, along his high cheekbones and rugged jaw, that they must be something he was born with.

“Who sent you again?” I ask him.

“Your family. Well, your ancestors.”

God. Everyone I know is dead? My sister died before me. Hit by a truck in a freak accident. But wait--

“My sister,” I say. “Is she on here? Could they save her?”

She was frozen just