CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(31)

     



 

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."