Alien Intent (Captured by Aliens Book 3) Page 3

  “I’m trying to decide if I like where this is going,” Jasmine muttered to Samara and Cyndy as they stood beside her with worried faces.

  “Half of you will travel to New Chalcydon where King Fallon and Prince Damon rule with my sister, Ebony, as their bride. The other half will remain here to choose husbands for one year…or longer if you find love. You must all choose a mate and bear children.”

  Jasmine clenched her jaw and her hands. Her back went stiff. They were here for making babies? Finding a husband and having children were the last things she ever wanted to do. She damned sure didn’t want to be forced to do it.

  “How will we choose husbands?” Samara asked.

  “Names have been drawn from a lottery. The winners will attend a ball held in your honor—for those of you that stay in this city. You will make selections there. New Chalcydon will have its own selection process. Again, I’m sorry for the circumstances, but I believe in time you will see, as I and others did, that this could be the best mistake to ever happen in your life.”

  “Mama! Go!” Lily tugged at her mother’s dress.

  “Shhh.” Adrienne chuckled. “Does anyone have any questions?”

  Jasmine, Samara, and Cyndy wandered off as Adrienne was swallowed by the crowd, choosing who was to go and who was to stay. “Can you believe we’re here to be baby making machines? It’s fucking ridiculous,” Jasmine fumed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Samara shrugged. “I didn’t have many prospects back home. You know the statistics for a black woman getting married as well as I do. Plus, the few men I’ve seen here are huge, attractive, and built like they were pulled from Sparta. Did you see the one that tagged you?”

  Jasmine frowned and crossed her arms. “Not really. I was too busy trying to run away. That fucker had me knocked out by one of his men. My head wouldn’t hurt right now if he hadn’t!” She rubbed her temples.

  “If I had a head like yours, it’d hurt too. Anyway, I caught the tail end of it when he was carrying you,” Cyndy said. “Omigod! Freakin’ Leonidas from Sparta with silver streaked black hair. Wet panty level five.” Cyndy held up five fingers and fanned herself.

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Cyndy. Get a grip on yourself. These people paid for us. Essentially, we’re slaves,” she said. Samara and Cyndy looked at her. “Sex slaves,” she emphasized when they continued their impassive stares.

  Samara and Cyndy giggled like they were both sixteen again. “I hope so, Jasmine. I’m ready to get my freak on. Might as well make the best of a bad situation,” Samara said with a shrug.

  “I’m glad you’ve both accepted your new roles so well. Forgive me if I seem a little bitchy about it.”

  Samara threw up her hands and smacked her own forehead. “For fuck’s sake, Jasmine. You make me want to shake the shit out of you. What do you expect us to do? Start a rebellion when we’re outnumbered, outgunned, and who knows how far from home? You want us to put the pussy on them and make them take us back to Earth? We’re lucky we aren’t being gang-raped. It seems like a genuine attempt at finding a love match and building a family. Just accept reality. We’re stuck. If you want to bitch and moan, take it somewhere else right now. You’re not the only one upset and disgusted. Just because we don’t show it doesn’t mean we aren’t scared and worried.”

  Jasmine wanted to rail against her cousin and the others, but they were right. Complaining wasn’t going to do anything but turn the other women against her. She didn’t want to be the resident bitch that got on everyone’s nerves. “Fuck it. I guess we don’t have a lot of options.”

  “Thank you! That’s exactly my point,” Samara muttered. “You know what we go through back on Earth, what it’s like having dark skin—much as anyone wants to deny it. They don’t seem to have that hang-up here. No history. Maybe, just maybe, this is a new beginning. They need us more than we need them. They want us here. Can you imagine how different our lives will be without suspicion? It’s like a fucking dream and I don’t want to wake up. And you shouldn’t either.”

  ***

  Rooms were assigned to roughly half the women. The others left to go to the new city. Jasmine, Samara, Cyndy, and Mai shared a room.

  “Bunk beds. Wow. Feels like college again,” Samara said, collapsing on the bottom bunk.

  “I’m going to go clean up and change. At least they had the decency to provide us with clothes that don’t look like the slave girl outfit Leia wore,” Jasmine said, loading up on supplies to clean and wash her hair, a change of clothes, comb, and a towel.

  She felt grumpy, abused, and confused, and disliked the combination. If a man was around, he’d just think she was about to start her period. Thinking about how many men must outnumber the women, and her new position in life, just pissed her off even more. She felt justified in being perturbed and wanted to take it out on someone or something, but making her friends suffer was wrong. She didn’t want to alienate them anymore than she already had. None of them had asked to come here. Despite the others trying to make the best of the situation, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to give up and capitulate just because they said she should or because it would make it easier for everyone involved. Of course it could be worse—it could always be worse.

  Jasmine never had any intention of getting married and settling down. She thought at some point she’d end up with a baby if she could get over her pickiness about men, but she enjoyed her freedom. She didn’t want a man telling her what to do with her life. Was it some unspoken rule that big warrior men preferred dominating their itty bitty women? And what if these men just looked human? What if they had two penises or something else bizarre hanging out in their pants? She assumed they were genetically compatible, otherwise they wouldn’t be here, but that didn’t mean there weren’t surprises to be had.

  Maybe she could make that her prerequisite for consideration. Drop your pants before I’ll even consider you, she thought, smirking. Make them beg.

  She found the communal showers easily enough. She’d never been big on public nudity, but with no one around, she had her pick of the showerheads. Washing away the dirt and grime felt more than cleansing—the hot water soothed her wounded pride. Absently she worked cream into her hair as she washed it too, and used a thick comb to detangle her long hair. Rather than being the chore it usually felt like, she drifted off in her thoughts and enjoyed being alone for the first time since she’d been taken.

  A throat cleared behind her—a masculine sound that made her stiffen in response. Jasmine glanced over her shoulder to see who dared to interrupt her shower and spy on her.

  It was him—the man she’d thrown dirt at…the man who’d chased her down.

  He glanced away when she met his eyes and turned around to give her a miniscule amount of privacy. How long had he been staring before that though? With his arms crossed, his back looked impossibly wide as his lateral muscles slanted down to his narrow hips. His uniform enhanced his well-defined body, leaving little to the imagination. At another time she would have been intrigued. She stared daggers into his back, but he didn’t have the decency to drop dead.

  She pretended to ignore him and continued with her leisurely shower until she was finished. Padding to the towel bar, she pulled a thick linen from the bar and wrapped it around herself and then a smaller one around her hair to soak up some of the water. Finally, she walked up to him and poked him repeatedly in the back until he faced her. When he did, she was moderately unnerved. She’d thought Cyndy was only joking. God help her.

  In her panic before, when she’d thrown sand in his eyes, she hadn’t gotten a good look at him with the sun shining behind his head. Now, the soft muted lighting accentuated his masculine features in vivid detail. Black eyebrows formed thick, straight lines over his eyes, lending him an angry, fierce appearance despite the fact that he held his face impassive as they gauged one another. Would this be resting asshole face?

  She could read no emotion in his vivid blue-gray eyes. Maybe that w
as what unnerved her. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was huge, and without any doubt, looked capable of kicking some serious ass. She half expected to see a medieval sword hanging off his hip. Instead, he had a utility belt not unlike a cop, with a black holster and the glint of metal signaling the grip of a gun.

  The gun was definitely intimidating.

  Jasmine swallowed hard and ripped her gaze up. Black hair streaked with silver curled on his forehead and teased the collar of his dark grey uniform. His big chin jutted from a square jawline like carved stone. Through his swarthy skin, new beard growth peppered his jawline with the appearance of bluish black. Even that was cut into a precise line along his face, like some metrosexual trying to look ruggedly sexy. She didn’t think he was trying to look sexy for her though.

  Was he trying to intimidate her for standing so close? Then she remembered she’d walked up on him. And she was still in a towel, dripping on the floor. What she should have done was taken his gun and held his ass hostage until she could find a ride back to Earth. Fuck the stupidity of such an impulsive act.

  Why couldn’t he be butt ugly? she thought.

  His chin begged a good punch, but looked hard enough to split her knuckles if she dared try. More than that, he was a good six or eight inches taller than she was and probably eighty pounds heavier. Hell, it could be a hundred pounds for all she knew, because underneath his uniform, she could tell he carried enough muscle to wrestle a bull to the ground. He didn’t need that gun because his bulging forearms and biceps were weapons of mass destruction. If he hid any fat under his clothes, she’d be surprised. No, this guy was a beast.

  She choked back a chuckle at her own joke. Laughing at her own thoughts was usually enough to convince others she was a lunatic and hearing voices. He stood so rigid and straight she had the craziest urge to poke his stomach to see if it was as hard as she thought it was. Maybe she was crazy and just now starting to realize it…

  “What do you want?” she demanded, forcing her bravado to the surface. “Can’t you see I need to get dressed? Or do you people not worry about privacy?”

  He looked down at her and she could see him working to keep a frown off his face. “I am Captain Dar Tagnon at your service. Princess Adrienne personally assigned me to guard and guide you until you’ve been mated.”

  The word ‘mated’ made her skin crawl. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her towel tucked tightly across her breasts. Her hair dripped cold water down her back. “What’s that supposed to mean? Am I in danger? Should I be worried?”

  His neutral expression dipped into a frown. “No.”

  “And I’m just supposed to take your word for this? The word of someone who paid for me and hundreds of other women?”

  “If it was my money, I wouldn’t have spent it on you or any of the others,” he said tightly.

  “So you’re not interested in women?” she asked.

  His black brows slanted in a deeper frown. “I’m not interested in owning a woman. You or any other.”

  “So we are slaves?” Jasmine said.

  Dar scrubbed a hand over his face. “You are deliberately twisting my words. Are all females as troublesome as you are?”

  “Only those taken against their will. And held captive.”

  “But you are free to move about. Do as you wish.”

  “As long as I choose a mate or husband though, right? And keep a guard stuck to my butt?” she said, watching as his face turned red.

  He took a long breath. Some of the redness dissipated from his skin. “Princess Adrienne said she saw a lot of herself in you…whatever that means. I am not happy about this either.” He paused. “I realize I have no name for the thorn in my side.”

  Jasmine couldn’t help but chuckle. Her soft laugh made him redden again. “Jasmine Gray—prickling and irritating is what I do best. Well, you can shove off. I don’t need you to guard me while I’m naked anyway. What do you think I’m going to do? Who’s going to come in here to mess with me besides you?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  She pointed at his wide, muscular chest. “You are the last person I want around me. You tranquilized me like I’m an animal. I heard your orders. That’s not something you just get over like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

  “I couldn’t allow you to run away,” Dar said, holding up his hands as if surrendering.

  “So I am a prisoner! That’s an admission if I’ve ever heard one.”

  Dar looked miserable and uncomfortable. He breathed a heavy sigh. “You are not. And I am…sorry for everything that has befallen you up to this point. My apologies. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “It’s a start.” She actually felt a twinge of guilt running circles around him. He was lacking in his social skills department—or maybe he was just that unused to being around a woman and trying to pacify one. She’d been known to have a viper’s tongue—one reason why she thought she had a hard time staying in a relationship. Not everyone got her sense of humor. She didn’t torture those weaker than herself, but big, lug-headed men were fair game in her book.

  She hadn’t formed a plan of what she wanted to do, but alienating her ‘guard’ probably wasn’t a wise move. She needed to back off enough to assess her situation. As much as she wanted to continue the bitchfest, she decided to give him a break. “You were just doing your job, right?”

  He nodded slowly, giving her a wary look. “You are correct.”

  “And now you’re here to do anything I want? At my service, you said,” Jasmine stated, feeling a gleeful smile creep onto her face.

  “Princess Adrienne asked that I escort you to her personal garden for a talk—when you are ready.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

  ***

  Two stoic-faced guards allowed Jasmine inside the open air garden. High walls kept the noise of the city beyond to a minimum, but she couldn’t detect the typical sounds of a large, bustling city like she was accustomed to hearing. Adrienne sat on a carved stone bench, twirling a bright orange flower in her fingers. When she saw Jasmine she smiled and patted the seat beside her.

  “Come, have a seat. I wanted to have a talk with you,” Adrienne said.

  Jasmine did as she bid, feeling out of place in spite of the fact that the woman was an Earthling like her.

  “I know how you feel about being taken from Earth. It’s miserable. But there are a lot of opportunities for happiness here. It’s a small planet, under rule by one king instead of multiple nations and factions. There is virtually no war, and we, as women, are desperately needed.”

  Jasmine remained silent, waiting for the bomb to drop.

  “The Grays are very good at selecting women with no ties to Earth. Nothing to keep them from choosing this planet as a new home—no children, no parents or siblings, except sisters that can go too. In general, that is.”

  Jasmine stiffened. “How would they even know that?”

  Adrienne shrugged. “They’re capable of space travel, telepathy, and god only knows what else. My assumption is finding out everything about an intended target is child’s play to them.”

  “So what? Why tell me this?”

  Adrienne stuck the flower in her hair and offered another to Jasmine. The orange blossom reminded her of honeysuckle, a softly sweet scent she used to smell in the springtime as a child playing in her backyard. Those days were over. With her parents gone, she had nothing to return to. The only people she cared about were stuck here with her. She’d thought it was bad luck, but it seemed they’d been selected for this from the start. She and Samara had met Cyndy in a grief support group—the loss of loved ones had bound them tightly together, and she felt more exploited than ever before. Not soothed in the slightest.

  “I want you to give this place a chance. I know you’re probably still piss—er—seething inside.” She cleared her throat. “I’m still trying to get the hang of this Princess thang.”

  “Yes,” Jasmine said qui
etly, feeling emptier now more than anything else.

  “You’ll have a special tour of the land. I’ll see to it. No objections.”

  Jasmine shrugged, staring into the blossom she held. “I feel I’ve become your pet project. What makes me so special?”

  “Maybe it’s the fight I see in your eyes.” Adrienne wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But so much more than that! You have no idea how much I’ve needed to be around women like myself. I hope with time we can become friends. All of us. My husband says I need courtly ladies.”

  Jasmine snorted. “That’s about the furthest from me you can get.”

  Adrienne waved her objection away. “I said the same damn thing.”

  Chapter Four

  “You will do whatever it takes to make this woman happy, is that understood, Captain Tagnon?” Princess Adrienne said coolly as her lips twitched with repressed amusement at his predicament.

  Dar attempted, albeit barely, to keep his temper in check. He liked his head on his shoulders, and arguing with the princess could get him a shave closer than he liked. With his hands clasped behind his back, Prince Zeta and his wife could not see the white of his clenched knuckles.

  He inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils before trusting himself to speak without inflection of anger. “Forgive my…impudence, your highness. You wish me to indulge this woman’s every whim and allow her to go on a patrol with me?” Dar said in as even a tone as he could muster. Inside, his blood boiled with resentment.

  Zeta eyed him steadily. “We require more than that from you.”

  “More than a tour?” Dar said, feeling confused.

  Dezek Zeta nodded. “The king has communicated with me about the possibility of opening a corridor in the space between our world and Earth. It would facilitate faster travel and allow us to go to their planet directly to procure mates. The gateway has been unusable to us for many generations—a remnant from the Old Ones. We’ve never needed it before. Never considered it until now, with dissension turning the tide against the new king.”