CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(28)

Time to change ships perhaps and fool them into thinking I'm new. He  chuckled at the thought and made a mental note to have his business  manager look into it. He could use the sport, and it always paid to keep  one's skills sharp.

The door to the elevator slid open, disrupting his mental plan to fool  pirates into playing and he strode into the large transport bay.

"Lights," he barked.

The dim cavern immediately illuminated and he strode through the tanks  heading toward the newest one to see what caused his alarm to still ring  shrilly. He didn't bother masking the sound of his arrival, the heavy  thump of his combat boots loud in the cargo bay. It wasn't like the  specimens he'd caught could grow legs and run away. What a shame. He  wouldn't have minded some form of entertainment.

Arriving at the recently filled vat, he peered around on the floor but  found nothing around the base of the tank. He clambered up a ladder to  reach the catwalks. He no sooner set foot on the metal grate than he saw  a prone, wet lump.

"What the frukx is that?" It didn't look like the illustrations he'd  seen of Earth's aquatic species. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, a  briny, wet fish odor. Toeing the pale creature, he whipped his pistol  out when it grunted.

What he'd mistaken for seaweed moved, and then, lifted until he found  himself face to face with a face, a pale humanoid one. Big, brown eyes  shot with red streaks blinked at him and blue lips parted on a gasp.

"Holy shit. You're like Han Solo on crack," croaked the human. And with  those strange words, the Earthling he'd accidentally abducted, slumped  forward again. Its eyes rolled back in its head and its forehead smacked  into the grated flooring.

"Ah, frukxn' crap." Tren braced his hands on his hips and grimaced down  at the sodden mess. Kill the Earthling or keep it? He got the impression  it was female, although given its contorted position and bedraggled  state, it could have also been an effeminate male. Either way, he didn't  want it. There wasn't a large market for Earthlings, not given their  temperament. The females especially tended to cry all the time and  descend into hysterics, especially when introduced to their new masters.  Apparently, they took issue with the whole sold as a sex slave thing.  It was why Tren stuck to creatures. They couldn't talk back.

I wonder if I can just drop her off somewhere on her planet. He  discounted that idea almost immediately. One, he couldn't be bothered.  And two, medical expeditions learned their lesson after the Earthlings  who came back after an abduction freaked, telling all who would listen  about probes and needles. Like we'd use such archaic forms of  technology. It made him sneer. Most of the civilized worlds considered  Earth a barbarian planet, one bent on destroying its natural resources.  It was why he'd made a trip to pick up specimens. At the rate they  currently destroyed their oceans, he figured it wouldn't be long now  before the whole planet expired, making what he'd grabbed a possible  rarity.

Not that he cared about their fate. The galaxy had more than enough  viable planets and sentient races. They wouldn't miss the loss of one  backwards planet out in the far reaches.

But what to do about the Earthling? He raised his pistol to end the  human's life, but hesitated. What had it meant when it called him Han  Solo on crack? His translator didn't know what to make of it, and  dammit, now he found himself curious.

I'll kill it after I find out. Decided, he holstered his gun and then  crouched to grab the limp body. He rolled the human onto its back and  that's when he noticed the damage done to the female. And female she  certainly was with her plentiful bosom spilling from the top of a  soaking rag-only two breasts, though, instead of a lush four or five. He  ignored her feminine attributes as he took in her twisted leg, broken  in at least three places he'd wager.

I'm surprised she didn't scream her head off when she woke there for a  moment. Probably shock kept her from noticing her injury. She'd  certainly have plenty to say when she woke again-blubbering and gushing  tears he couldn't abide. For a moment, he again debated just shooting  her now before he had to put up with lunatic raving, but stopped at the  sight of her looking so utterly helpless. He cursed as he holstered his  gun. He, the coldest killer in the known galaxies, couldn't kill her.  That's it. I need to go on a mission before I turn into a complete  frukxning softy. He'd let his contacts know he was back in business as  soon as he got rid of his cargo, including one sure-to-be-annoying  female.

He slid his hands under her plump frame and drew her toward him before  standing with her cradled in his arms. With no effort on his part-he  kept himself in impeccable shape-he carried her to the end of the  walkway and the equipment lift. A short elevator ride later, he spilled  onto an upper level where he kept his room and the medical chamber.

Curiosity made him peek at her while he carried her. Her skin appeared  pale, extremely so and beneath its surface he could see a fragile  network of veins. He would have called her unblemished but noticed her  skin appeared marred by a strange line of pale dots across the bridge of  her nose. That'll decrease her value. She sported dark lashes and brows  at odds with her pale colored hair that streaked from a light gold to a  dark brown. Her lips, an odd blue color, were full, and through their  parted seam he could see white teeth, flat edged, making him wonder if  perhaps her kind were herbivores. Her body filled his arms, opulent and  soft, yet not obscenely so. The wet fabric she wore molded to the round  fullness of her breasts and clung to her prominent nipples.

To his disbelief, his groin tightened at the sight. Apparently, he'd  waited too long between brothel visits if this pale, sodden female could  incite lust, especially considering she only owned two breasts-a common  trait among her kind or a genetic abnormality?

Disgusted with himself and his interest in her as a copulating partner,  he dumped her onto the diagnostic table in his medical room. The repair  and diagnostic unit descended from the ceiling with a whir. Tren punched  in a few commands on the device and then walked away, only to return a  moment later when the machine beeped.

"Stupid machine. It can heal anything, but it can't stand wet clothes,"  he grumbled. He grasped the damp fabric adorning her frame and tore it  in half before peeling it from her body. Womanly curves greeted him and,  despite her dual mounds, he hungrily drank the sight of her in from the  dark blush of her nipples to the brown thatch between her legs. His  hand couldn't help but trace the round softness of her belly with its  intriguing hole in the middle. He wondered what it was for, and had to  admit it made her body intriguing to behold, a fact his hardening cock  agreed with.

With a curse at his lack of control, he whirled and stomped out of the  chamber, letting the unit do its work. His clothes, damp and stinking of  the Earth's ocean, required changing and he proceeded to his chambers  to do so. He dropped his soiled garments in the ship's cleansing unit  before dressing in a clean and dry outfit. It was as he tucked his shirt  into his pants that it occurred to him he'd have to clothe the female.

Or let her run around naked, his mind whispered with a dirty chuckle.  His cock twitched at the thought. Tren tightened his lips into a thin  line. I am definitely visiting a brothel at my next stop.

Not owning any feminine garments, he snagged a spare shirt and pants of  his. He'd pick her up some clothes in one of his docking ports. Or he'd  sell her naked, whichever he thought would fetch him a better price.

Knowing the medical unit would require a few more galactic units to  complete its work, he went back to the command center, the spare clothes  bundles under his arm. He wanted to do more research on Earthling  females and discover ways of muzzling them, because with his luck, she'd  probably end up the noisy, wailing type.

And all males know the only time a woman should speak is during sex when she screams our name.





Chapter Three

Megan regained consciousness slowly, a half smile curving her lips as  her vivid dream of a space buccaneer kidnapping her for seduction slowly  dissipated. What an odd dream to have. She opened her eyes and blinked  as she stared up at some odd machine. Lights flashed, machinery whirred  and as she watched, a hole opened up and dropped a stream of goop on  her.

"What the fuck?" She struggled to sit up but couldn't, which caused a  mini panic attack. Hyperventilating, she whipped her head from side to  side, the only part of her she could move, looking for answers. No  straps appeared on her arms, and when she lifted her head to peek she  saw nothing on her legs. Yet something, an invisible force, held her  prone while the machine dropped icky stuff all over her body. Most  disturbing of all, she wore not a stitch of clothing. Who undressed me?  And what did they do to my body?         

     



 

Memory of her abduction flooded her mind and she closed her eyes with a  groan. Apparently, the tall, dark pirate she vaguely remembered from her  dream wasn't a figment of her imagination. He'd brought her aboard his  ship and now prepared to …  She cracked an eye open. Heal her? Probe her?  Tenderize her body for eating? She hoped for the first option, but  wouldn't hold her breath.