Page 2 of Becoming Brandy

She smiled, running her finger down his chest. Always in the same attire, Bram preferred crisp white T-shirts and pants. His blond hair was always brushed back in a perfect wave.

“I’m bored,” she teased. “You wanna get out of here and have some fun?”

He wiped his hand down the front of his shirt, straightening non-existent wrinkles. “I have work to do.”

“Great.” She brightened. “Let me help you.”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t you have hair to braid?”

It was a mean and dismissive comment. Brandy sucked her teeth, trying not to let the hurt show on her face. “I have skills, you know. I’m smart.”

Bram didn’t answer her. His eyes were drawn to something on one of the control panels. Striding over to a flashing wall, he left Brandy and conferred with the beast watching the monitor.

They spoke in their strange alien voices. Brandy only knew a few words in their language and they weren’t using any of them, but something was clear—Bram was concerned. He kept touching the lit symbols, his face growing redder and his brow more furrowed.

Brandy sidled up beside him. “Bram, what’s wrong?”

He ignored her, heading to another wall and pressing his hand to it. Han’s voice came in over the loudspeakers. “What is it?”

“Sire,” Bram said, his voice shaky, “we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Han said.

“It’s the Hugrathian clan. One of their ships just appeared in this solar system.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The commlink dropped, and Bram wrung his hands nervously.

“Who are they?” Brandy asked.

Bram’s eyes flicked to her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “They are a rival clan, our sworn enemies and one of the most ruthless races in the universe. A big deal as you might say.”

Brandy’s eyes widened. “And they’re coming this way?”

“It appears so, but do not worry your pretty head. Han can deal with them.”

Brandy turned to see the ship sliding into view on the screen. It was similar in shape to their own, smooth and egg-shaped, but theirs was obsidian, making it hard to spot. As she watched, the ship seemed to disappear entirely.

“Where’d they go?” she asked.

Bram whirled around. “A cloaking device. Can our scanners pick them up?”

Bram hurried away, but Brandy began to feel a strange sensation take hold of her body. It was as if each individual atom inside her was coming apart. When she held her hand up to her face, she could see her skin pixelating.

“Bram,” she called, but then she couldn’t speak. Soon, the room grew dark. Her ears stopped picking up sound. Panic was her brain’s last input. After that, nothing.

Suddenly, her body began stitching itself together. It was the most strange and unnatural feeling, like bits of her were sticking together like drops of water on a windshield, slipping down to form one whole.

Lurching forward, she touched her limbs, her head. She could see and hear. Thank God, was still intact.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

Brandy spun so fast she almost fell, fear making her dizzy. She was on a ship similar to the one she’d just left, except everything glowed a dark purple as if everything was lit by black light. She didn’t have much time to notice anything else, because several large males across the room caught her attention. They were examining her as if she were a piece of meat.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking a step back until her back bumped into a smooth wall.

The male in the center smiled. He appeared to be an alien shifter in human form just like Han and his brothers. These males had adopted very different appearances from Han’s people, though. They were tattooed badasses—almost like they were straight out of Sons of Anarchy—leather, shit-kicker boots, tight T-shirts, and smug faces. Brandy shivered as their eyes roved over her.

“What do you want?” she asked, voice reed thin.

The center male finally answered, his tone superior. “We want what anyone wants. Revenge. And you are the first step in our plan.”

---