Tren growled at her and bared his teeth. To his annoyance, she didn't even flinch. "Do you know how easily I could kill you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Save the big bad routine for someone more gullible. If you didn't murder me after I kicked you in the balls, then you're not going to for just talking."
A scowl crossed his face at her reasoning, and to his amazement she laughed, a rich throaty sound that made her lips curve enticingly and her eyes dance. It also made his cock swell with interest. He didn't like it one bit. How am I supposed to make her respect me if she finds my threats amusing? He'd never run into that issue before. Most beings cowered, fainted or wet themselves when he turned his displeasure their way.
He needed some space from her and the contrary emotions she evoked. "I've got work to do. Don't touch anything." He barked the command at her, but she just continued to grin in a way he found disturbing. To ensure she didn't attempt to drive them into the nearest star, he tapped a panel on the wall by the elevator and locked the console to voice command only-his voice-then left. To his surprise-and odd disappointment-she didn't say a thing to stop him.
Good. It's about time she gave that tongue of hers a rest. Although, he could think of other ways she could exercise it. Ways that made his cock strain the crotch of his pants.
Chapter Four
Alone, Megan drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair and looked around with interest. For some reason, she'd expected a bigger command center for the ship. However, the actual space rivaled that of her spare bedroom with less furniture. She knew the ship was immense from her glimpse of the cargo bay and how much floor they'd traversed when he'd carried her upside down-those long legs of his had an immense stride-the impression compounded as they got on an elevator to change floors for gods' sake.
However, sizable as it all seemed, the one thing his ship seemed to lack was other people, beings, aliens, whatever she wanted to call them. Despite his purple color, she found herself hard pressed to think of him as an extraterrestrial. He oozed too much testosterone and chauvinism for that. Just like a man back home.
It occurred to her she should probably be more upset about her current situation-hysterical screaming and hyperventilating came to mind-but honestly, after the shock of her attempted murder, this space adventure she found herself on came as kind of a relief. And it wasn't like anyone would miss her; she had no family left to care about her, part of the reason she was such an easy mark for preying men. She worked from home as a web programmer and analyst, so no coworkers existed to wonder where she'd gotten to. As for friends, Cameron made sure to estrange her from them. Grooming me for my eventual midnight swim, the jerk.
What truly pissed her off wasn't her currently odd situation, but the fact Cameron had probably made it back to dock by now and probably celebrated her demise at his hands. Spending my money, the asshole. She wanted to go back just so she could kill him herself.
While thoughts of revenge and annoyance at Cameron sustained her, the more immediate concern was her eventual fate. Despite her captor's threats, she didn't get the impression he'd actually abuse her, even if he kept threatening to kill or sell her. His smacks on her ass had stung, but given his size and evident strength, he'd obviously held back. Not like some of her previous boyfriends who'd turned violent for less provocation. I honestly don't think the purple pirate will hurt me. A possibly dumb intuition based on nothing more than gut instinct, which in her case had shown itself as rather unreliable in the past.
I have such a great track record with men. If they're not out to screw me, they're fucking around on me, trying to beat me or, in my newest scenario, murdering me. She never put up with any of their shit, of course, but the pain of their betrayals still hurt. Is it so much to ask for a guy who'll like me for who I am; outspoken, curvy and all?
Maybe she should consider allowing her captor to sell her as a sex slave, an object of value to someone, even if alien. Allow herself to become someone who gave and received sexual pleasure. I'm good at that. I could become a first class courtesan and have my owner shower me with presents, an interesting fantasy for someone else. However, knowing her penchant for giving orders, and stating her mind, it seemed an unlikely scenario in her case.
Alone and in need of something to occupy herself, she hopped up from the chair and prowled the control center, or so she assumed even given the sparse decor. Unlike the Star Trek films and shows she'd watched, there existed a definite lack of cool flashing lights, buttons and levers. Just a lot of blank wall space with faint scribbles, a chair and a big window like screen that showed nothing, not even her reflection.
Boring.
She leaned against the screen and tried to peer through it, wondering if perhaps it acted as a two way glass.
"Command console locked. Please speak to confirm identity."
Megan reeled back at the feminine voice that spoke from thin air. When nothing happened and no one appeared, she lightly touched the screen with a finger.
"Command console locked. Please speak to confirm identity."
This was more like it. A voice activated computer. Cool. "Um, hi, I'm Megan."
"Invalid voice entry."
"So whose voice will work?" Megan spoke aloud, but the computer didn't reply. Her abductor probably had it keyed for only him.
Foiled in that area, she wandered around touching various panels where she found symbols, some of which caused the computer to relay the same command, some of which did nothing. She also tried to figure out how to open the door to the elevator thing, but ended up kicking the wall in aggravation and stubbing her toes.
Annoyed, she threw herself at the wall with a frustrated yell, pummeling it with her fists. When it suddenly slid open, she stumbled forward into a brick wall with steadying hands.
"Are you done abusing my vessel?" said her purple captor in his low sexy voice.
A shiver skated down her spine and it had nothing to do with fear. Her hands, sprawled across his chest, registered a steady thump, like a heartbeat; of course, it was on the wrong side of his torso and lower, but it still made him seem more human. Awareness of his body and an answering call in her lower tummy stunned her more, though. Attracted to a purple slave trader with pointed teeth? Am I completely insane?
Realizing he waited for her to speak, she sprang on the first thought that came to mind, other than asking him to remove his shirt so she could inspect him. "I'm bored and hungry," she complained, pushing back from him. She shot him a mutinous look as she crossed her arms over her chest, mostly to hide her erect nipples that seemed determined to catch his attention.
"I didn't realize it was your people's custom to throw a tantrum like a young'un."
Her chin tilted stubbornly at his rebuke. "Maybe if you hadn't locked me up with nothing to do I wouldn't have to resort to childish tactics to get some attention."
She could have sworn she saw a glint of humor momentarily light his eyes. "Oh, you have my attention. Don't blame me, though, if you don't like it." He bared his teeth at her and she rolled her eyes.
"Enough with the trying to intimidate me. I'm no use to you dead, so unless you're planning on starving me as some sort of punishment, I need food."
"I have better ways of chastising you." His eyes roved her body sensually. Megan couldn't help the bolt of heat that speared her cleft.
She pretended to not understand his sexual innuendo. "Could you beat me after you feed me?"
"Follow me and I shall provide sustenance. Perhaps it will improve your ill disposition." He smirked as he stepped back into the elevator, and as she entered the tight space facing him, she threw a dirty look at him for his remark. He leaned around her and she sucked in a breath, expecting retaliation, only to release it when she realized he simply wanted to push a button.
It occurred to her as the door slid shut behind her she didn't know if her space pirate had a name. Somehow purple people eater didn't seem apt. "My name is Megan, by the way, or do you not name the merchandise you're going to sell?"
She could have sworn his lips twitched before his grim façade took over again. "I'm Tren, and I name all the things I sell. New hover car. Relaxing retreat. Night at the Red Vulva. You know, that type of thing."
It was her turn for her lips to quirk. "Touché. So, I have to ask, if my people are such barbarians, how is it you know our language?"
"I don't, the translator does. It is standard protocol for the devices to be programmed with all known languages, defunct or not. Although, I believe the version for your planet might be somewhat out of date given some of your expressions aren't translating."
Megan inclined her head in understanding. "Pop culture references I'll bet."