Page 8 of Alien Protector's Mate

“Latharian Mate Program,” it announced in bright lettering.

“No,” she whispered, her eyes widening in horror as she tried to backpedal. She’d thought they were picking up black-marketbooze or food from one of Mr. Morgan’s drinking buddies. Not this… “No, please, you can’t?—”

His hand shot out, wrapping around her upper arm in an iron grip.

“Shut your face,” he snarled as he yanked her up nose to nose with him. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch. Do you know how much it’s cost us to keep you all these years? It’s about time you paid us back.”

Her mind reeled as she leaned back to get away from his whiskey-rank breath. She’d heard whispers about the Latharian Mate Program. Everyone had. The newsfeeds painted a wonderful picture of lonely alien men looking for human women to fall in love with, but rumors on the street said it was little more than human trafficking. Girls who went into those offices were whisked away and never seen again.

“Please!” she begged as she pulled on her arm, tears stinging her cheeks. “I promise I’ll be good. Don’t take me in there!”

“Oh shut your fucking whining,” he snapped as he dragged her along toward the door. She stumbled against him, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a trapped bird. She couldn’t break his grip. He towered over her, his well-fed gut straining against a sweat-stained sweater. He might be a drunk, but compared to her, he was a well-fed drunk.

Even so, his breathing was a little labored before they got halfway there.

He looked her up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “Fuck, you’re getting fatter by the day. Lucky for you, that don’t matter where you’re going. All they’re bothered about is that you can pop out babies.”

She froze at his words, trying to wrap her arms around herself protectively, but he still had hold of her left arm. His gaze raked over her curves where her clothes had twisted against herin her struggle to escape, and a predatory gleam that made her skin crawl entered his eyes.

“You know…” he said, each thought clinking against the next like a line of slowly falling dominoes. “If the aliens don’t want ya, one of my buddies was interested in taking you on. Said he’d pay good money for a plump little thing like you.”

Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat, and she swallowed. Hard. Mr. Morgan chuckled, obviously enjoying her fear.

“But turns out, we can get even more for you at them LMP offices,” he said. “So you should think yourself lucky, girl. You’re about to become mighty valuable.”

She tried to prize his hand off her arm, looking around frantically. If she could get away from him, she could run, lose herself in the city streets…

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his fingers digging into her flesh as he hauled her up against him again. His fetid breath washed over her face, making her flinch. “One wrong move, or if’n you embarrass me in there, and I’ll take you back to Ron instead. Understand me, you little bitch?”

She nodded as she stumbled along, her legs weak with fear. She’d met Ron a few times, enough to know she absolutely did not want to be in a room alone with him. Ever.

The building loomed before them, the bright sign reflected in the puddle on the sidewalk in front. As they approached the door, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. A pale, frightened face stared back at her, eyes wide with terror.

This was it. This was really happening. She felt like she was watching from outside her body as Mr. Morgan herded her through the door in front of him and approached the reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with washed-out brown hair and a pinched expression, looked up from her computer screen.

“Welcome to the Latharian Mate Program. How can I help you?” she asked, her tone bored as though she had better things to do than deal with customers. Jade frowned. Were people coming in here considered customers, or was that the aliens? How did it work? Did they get to pick a woman from a book, like picking a set of shelves from a catalogue?

Mr. Morgan leaned in, lowering his voice. “Yeah, I’m here to see him. He knew I was coming.”

The receptionist’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh, I see. And you have a… package for us?”

Mr. Morgan nodded, jerking his head slightly toward Jade. “I sure do. He told me to bring it here, said there would be some paperwork for me to sign and a payment.”

The woman barely graced Jade with a look and nodded. “I see. Let me pull up the paperwork for you.”

Jade listened to their exchange, her head down and heart pounding. Mr. Morgan was selling her to the aliens…

The receptionist tapped at her keyboard with talon-like nails and then frowned. “It seems there’s been a change of plans. He has a buyer, so he wants the package processed immediately.”

Mr. Morgan’s grip on Jade’s arm tightened, and she winced in pain. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he growled. “He said I’d get paid first.”

The woman’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “I’m sure he has his reasons. If you’ve changed your mind, there are other… packages.”

Mr. Morgan grumbled under his breath but then nodded. “Fine. Where do I sign?”

The receptionist pulled out a stack of forms and slapped them down on the counter.

“Just sign here, here, and here,” she instructed, one blood-red nail tapping on various lines on the flexi-docs. “Once that’s done, we’ll take ownership of the package.”

---