Page 24 of Caught By Menace

Even though he’d been exceedingly good to her, Naya couldn’t shake the idea that he was putting on an act. The contract she’d been forced to sign upon boarding the transport ship had so many clauses in such tiny print on the tablet screen. She hadn’t been able to make any of them out but she was certain there had to be an escape clause of some kind. All contracts had them, right? The idea that Menace was simply going to keep her happy until some type of time limit passed wasn’t one she could discount.

She’d gotten a good look at the spaceship during her processing. The sheer size of theValiantstunned her. She couldn’t even comprehend how so massive a ship could remain in orbit. The mechanics and engineering required were so far beyond anything she could understand. Even if she could escape Menace’s quarters, she wouldn’t get far. The chip in her wrist and the heavily armed guards all over the ship had dashed those hopes. If by some miraculous chance she managed to evade all of that she wouldn’t have the first idea how to get from the ship to the colonies.

The realization that maybe she didn’t want to flee—at least not yet—hit her hard. Menace’s skillful seduction had done more than just show her that she was capable of enjoying sex in ways she’d never thought possible. No, he’d also shown her that the two of them shared an undeniable connection. Try as she might, Naya couldn’t deny that she and Menace clicked on a level she’d never been able to reach with any other man.

Finally she admitted to herself that she wanted to stay and try. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe in a week or two the lust between them would fade and they’d both be looking for ways to get away from each other. More frightening for Naya was the prospect that things would be better between them. She wouldn’t know the first thing about making a long-term relationship work. Every man she had ever known had fuckedher over in one way or another. Even Dankirk, the man she had been friends with longest, had gotten her into scrapes that she had only just barely survived. Experience told her it was only a matter of time until Menace did the same.

“Naya?” Menace knocked twice on the bathroom door. “I left one of my undershirts on the bed for you. Come find me when you’re dressed.”

“Okay.” She stared at the door. A quiver of embarrassment shook her belly. She had never actually done this part. Typically she would bounce from her partner’s house or send him packing from hers as quickly as possible after sex. The second Menace had unlocked the door of the playroom and offered her the use of the bathroom, she had fled. She had milked this tidying-up business about as long as she could without rousing suspicion. Now what?

Gathering her courage, she opened the bathroom door and entered the spacious bedroom. Her entire apartment back in Connor’s Run would have fit in Menace’s master suite. He had dimmed the lights to a comfortable setting. She spotted the folded gray shirt sitting on the end of the bed. The fabric was a darker gray than the bedclothes. Apparently shades of gray and black were favored here.

Naya slipped into the too-big shirt. It skimmed her knees but she was glad for the extra length. It looked like an ill-fitting dress but gave her a sense of modesty. Running around without underpants wasn’t something she did very often, but something told her Menace would probably prefer it.

Like the bathroom door, the bedroom door slid into the wall when she touched the frame. It was basically a high-tech version of the pocket doors used in her tiny apartment to save space. Unlike her apartment, these quarters were uncommonly roomy. Having been blindfolded earlier, she had missed the grand tour. She took a moment to scan her new, possibly temporary, home.The open living area was connected to a dining space and kitchen. On the far wall were more doors. She assumed they led to bedrooms.

The furniture was quite different from what she was used to back home. There were no woods or natural fibers. Everything was shiny and sleek and made of metal or the strange plastic she had spied in the bathroom and playroom. As she crossed the living area, she noticed the flooring beneath her feet felt soft and warm. It looked like slate but was actually a weird composite material. She swept her fingertips across the upholstery on the furniture. It had a slick, durable feel.

“That shirt looks better on you that it ever did on me.” Menace stood next to the dining table and grinned at her. He held two plates in his big hands. “I hope you like scrambled eggs.”

“I do.” She couldn’t quite believe Menace had made her something to eat. “No man has ever cooked for me.”

“Well, I should warn you that I’m not much of a cook.” He placed the plates on the table. “You might take one bite and wish I’d stayed in that category of men who never fed you.”

“I doubt it.” She moved closer to the table and eyed the food he had prepared. The bowl of fruit in the center of the table held her attention. It had been so long since she’d had an orange. They were some of the only native Earth fruits that had survived the long journey in the generation ships to be transplanted on Calyx. As such, they were precious and ridiculously expensive.

He must have noticed her lingering gaze. “Food supplies are stable here and my salary has a generous grocery allotment.”

She decided not to point out that food supplies onboard theValiantwere so stable because they required such high quotas of food from Calyx as part of the treaty. Fruit and meat were so outrageously expensive in places like Connor’s Run because the sky warriors here loved them so much.

Instead of arguing about political arrangements, she remarked, “You eat the same things we do.”

He nodded and returned to the kitchen for a carton and two glasses. “You’d be surprised how similar foodstuffs are from planet to planet. At least in this end of the galaxy,” he amended. “Your people prepare some foods differently than we do and we tend to prefer heavier use of spices, but overall our diets are similar.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He shot her a strange look. “Why? What did you think we eat?”

“Food in boxes, mostly.”

“Boxes?” His expression turned to one of amusement. “You mean war rations?”

She shrugged and pulled out her chair. “I guess.”

“When did you taste war rations?” He gestured for her to sit.

“There was a transport ship crash when I was a little girl. Your people came to our aid during the Merkorian invasion. One of your ships blew up over our heads. There were miles of debris. My father took me with him to scavenge.”

“And you found rations,” he guessed.

“They were terrible.” She made a face as the memory of the salty, dry food resurfaced. “They kept me alive though. There had been a bad drought that summer and no harvest. The winter was especially harsh that year. When Daddy was killed, I hoarded them so I wouldn’t starve.”

“Your father died during the invasion?” He pushed a glass in front of her.

She sat down and reached for a fork. “He’d taken us—my brother Nattie and me,” she clarified, “into the sewer systems under the town. For some reason thosethingscouldn’t hunt down there.”

“It’s their eyes,” Menace said and gestured to his with a fork. “They need a certain amount of light to process shapes and colors and shades. It’s why we developed weapons that target their faces. The skin is the secondary target on a Merkorian amphibicore. They require a certain amount of moisture to keep their scaly, slimy skins alive.” He opened the carton and poured blue liquid into his glass. “How long were you down there?”

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