Page 3 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
Said it was for my protection.
I laughed in his face. Or tried to. It came out half-hearted. The truth is, I knew exactly what it meant the second it locked with a subtle hiss. Not just a restraint. A message. A warning. She’s mine. Don’t touch.
And god help me, some small, shamefully turned-on part of me liked it.
I pace the room, stretching out stiff muscles, running through worst-case scenarios. I try my bracelet. No connection. Blocked. Reapers might be blunt, but they’re not stupid.
Eventually, the door hisses open.
It’s him again. Of course.
He stands in the doorway like he owns it—and everything in it. Arms crossed. Eyes shadowed. That collar on my neck feels like it gets tighter just from the way he’s looking at me.
“You calm yet?”
I arch a brow. “You gonna give me back my recorder?”
“Nope.”
“Then no.”
He strides in. Smooth. Effortless. Like gravity bends for him. I back up a step before I can stop myself, and hate how my body reacts—heat flaring in my cheeks, legs going traitor-soft. My thoughts feel like a scramble of bad decisions wrapped in curiosity and sex dreams.
“You mentioned a sister,” he says.
The reminder knocks the haze from my brain. “Yeah. Jasmine. She was working for the Combine. Went off-grid two weeks ago.”
“Name’s familiar,” he murmurs. “There were reports of a female taken off a Combine supply vessel last cycle. Thought she was a contractor.”
“She is,” I say. “Was. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You think the Reapers took her?”
“I think someone wants me to think that.”
He studies me for a long beat. His gaze dips to the collar, then flicks up to my face. He’s not leering. Not exactly. But there’s a charge in the air now—like the moment before a storm, or a kiss, or a mistake you know you’re going to make twice.
“I can ask around,” he says. His voice is lower now. Rougher. “But it won’t be free.”
I swallow. “Nothing ever is.”
The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled tight. My breath stutters. I can see his pulse beating at his throat. Can feel mine hammering everywhere.
“Why are you really here?” he asks.
“My sister,” I say again. But it comes out soft this time. Shaky.
He nods slowly. Deliberate. Measured. Like he’s weighing more than just my words.
“And if I help you?”
I lift my chin. My voice wants to wobble, but I make it hold steady. “Then I tell the truth. About the Combine. About what they’re doing out here. And maybe… about the Reapers too.”
His jaw tightens. His expression flickers—just for a second. Then it hardens again. Controlled. Dangerous.
“You sure you’re ready to know the truth?”
“Are you?”
