Page 6 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
He cocks his head. “You think I need your help?”
“You need someone who can get the message out. Unfiltered. Unedited. And you know it.” I take a step forward. The collar shifts against my throat, heavy and real. “I’m not stupid. You want the Combine embarrassed. Discredited. And I can do that. On every feed in the Core.”
He doesn’t speak. Just watches.
“I get you your propaganda victory,” I press on, “and you get me to Jasmine. Alive, preferably.”
His eyes narrow. “You think you’re in a position to bargain?”
I lift my chin. “I think you’ve been watching me sleep.”
He freezes.
Bullseye.
“There’s a small sensor in the corner of the cell,” I say, jerking my chin toward it. “Infrared flickered when the feed cut. I know someone’s been checking it manually. And given how your crew avoids eye contact, I’m betting that someone is you.”
Still nothing.
But the heat in the air? Palpable now.
I smile. “So yeah, I’m holding all the cards. Or at least some of them.”
He steps in closer. I don’t move. I won’t move. Even though everything in me is starting to hum like I’ve swallowed lightning.
“You want to find your sister,” he says.
I nod.
“You want to take down the Combine.”
“Damn right.”
“And you want to do it… with me.”
The way he says that last part—mocking, rough, amused—makes something twist inside me.
“I don’t exactly have a line of volunteers, do I?” I shoot back.
There’s a long silence. Then he reaches into his belt, pulls out a fresh pair of manacles.
My mouth goes dry.
He closes the distance with a single stride. “You want help? You do it my way.”
The manacles click around my wrists before I can argue. His fingers brush my skin—hot, calloused, firm.
“You son of a?—”
He leashes the collar. Tugs gently.
I stumble forward, heat flaring through me. I hate how quickly my body reacts. I hate how my thighs clench, how my mouth goes dry.
He smiles darkly. “Let’s go, Human.”
“Where?” I manage to croak.
“My quarters.”
