Page 19 of Taming Chaos

Seph prided herself on her knowledge of alien cultures. Compared to the average Earth citizen, she was remarkably well informed about the Universe and its various inhabitants. She read voraciously, devouring every new off-world briefing that reached her inbox.

But it was right then and there that she realized how little she actually knew about the world beyond Earth’s blue skies.

She did not understand how this alien’s armor—which had just survived a fucking plasma blast—could simply disappear like that, as if it were made of millions of tiny specks of black dust.

The particles melded with his skin as if they were being absorbed back into his body, and finally… finally, his face was revealed.

He squatted on his haunches, lowering himself so that he was looking up at her, rather than the other way around.

Seph blinked. Why would he do that? It was as if he was trying to diminish himself, to make himself appear less threatening.

“Hello, Persephone Winters.” To her absolute shock, he smiled—a broad, toothy, fangy, friendly smile. Seph usually disliked being called by her full name, but the way he said it—with that deep timbre; in that unique Kordolian accent—made it sound different, nice. The two sharp canines extending from his upper teeth gleamed in the dim light, giving him a predatory appearance. “I apologize for the rude introduction. I came to extract you from this mess.”

Crimson eyes crinkled. Silver cheeks were punctuated with the most surprising dimples. His long, aquiline nose wrinkled as smiled, transforming his face into something unexpectedly warm and wondrous.

Crowning that glorious contradiction of features was a shock of short, unruly hair that was as white as the pure driven snow. Seph was consumed with an irrational urge to run her fingers through that lush, chaotic mess.

It looked so soft… the only part of him that was the least bit soft.

“Th-thank you… I think.” She frantically tried to gather her composure. That was a rather difficult feat when one was face-to-face with a lethal Kordolian whose physical abilities—and presence—defied all logic. “Unless I’m highly mistaken, I’m pretty sure I’ve never met you before today. Why did you… come after me?”

“I wanted to,” he answered simply. “You didn’t deserve what they did to you. I don’t like that sort of betrayal.”

“No, I didn’t,” she grumbled, momentarily forgetting who she was speaking to. Despite his fearsome appearance, something about this guy’s answer put her at ease. “But if you know a little bit about my kind, you’ll know that we tend to do that sort of thing from time to time. That’s not unique to humans though, is it?”

“No.” His smile faded, and his expression turned solemn. The warmth drained from his features, and their shared moment—that sense of comfortable familiarity—disappeared.

Fear took the doubts in her mind and turned them into nightmares. One thing in particular bothered her. “What was that all about… when you said you wanted to buy me?”

A puff of air escaped the Kordolian’s lips as he closed his eyes, running a hand through his messy hair. He shook his head. “That bad, was it? Don’t worry, I don’t actually intend to buy you. Given the circumstances, it was the only thing I could think of; the only thing the Ephrenians would understand. I didn’t count on the pressure bomb. I should have anticipated it. I think I’ve become so used to getting my way that I got complacent. Sorry.”

Sorry? He was apologizing to her?

Now Seph was totally confused. She’d pegged him as a typical Kordolian—a vicious, bloodthirsty, conquering alien—but he’d just challenged all her expectations. Seph mentally berated herself for allowing a stereotype to influence her judgment. “You don’t have to… I mean, thank you for coming after me. Nobody else would have done that.”

He looked up, his crimson gaze clear and penetrating. For a moment, he held her in thrall with that piercing stare, his pale eyebrows lifting slightly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, shook his head slightly, then closed it again.

“You look uncomfortable,” he said instead, his voice becoming gentle. A long obsidian knife appeared in his right hand. “Let me remove those restraints.”

At the sight of the blade, Seph tensed. She couldn’t help it. It was a deep, primal reaction, an instinctive response to danger.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Persephone. The blade is the quickest way. I’ll be very careful. Promise.”

He rose to his full height, and suddenly Seph had a ringside seat to his magnificent, armor-encased body. Her pulse fluttered. Her breath caught. A warm, pleasant sensation spread through her lower belly.

Don’t ogle him, dumbass! This was like Stockholm syndrome on steroids, all because her savior/captor/whatever was a fucking swoon-worthy specimen.

Seph averted her eyes. She had to keep some objectivity here. He seemed decent enough, but she still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted with her. Aliens didn’t go out of their way to rescue humans just because they were good Samaritans, did they?

“Can you stand?”

“Y-yeah.” Seph rose to her feet, a feat that was surprisingly difficult when one’s arms were bound.

“Turn around.” His deep murmur threatened to melt her insides. Shakily, she obeyed, turning to face the wall.

Armor-encased hands curled around her wrists. The seamless black layer of his armor-gloves felt strange against her skin. They were… not quite soft, and not quite hard. Silky, and yet rough. Warm, yet detached.

And they seemed to move with his skin, almost as if they were a living thing, a symbiote.

---