Abducted: Alien Mate Index Book 1: (Alien Warrior BBW Science Fiction Paranormal Romance) (The Alien Mate Index) (27 page)

“Why should you when I prefer to carry you?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ll throw your back out,” I warned him, trying again. “I’m not exactly a hundred pound Hollywood starlet you can tote around all day like it’s no big deal.”

“Are you saying I’m not strong enough to carry you? I did before, you know.” He frowned and began walking as we talked, which kind of made the conversation moot, but I’m no quitter.

“No, you’re obviously plenty strong. And I know you carried me, uh, before.” I blushed, remembering the slime tank incident again. “But that was just the length of your ship. I’m just saying I’m not exactly skinny enough to—”

“Oh, this is about your planet’s strange ideas about stick-thin females being more attractive, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, I guess sort of…in a way,” I admitted.

“Such a strange concept.” He shook his head. “I picked you from the Alien Mate Index
because
of your curves—not despite them. Remember that, sweetheart.”

“All right,” I said, feeling like the conversation had somehow gotten off topic but unsure how to get it back.

Sarden must have seen my uncertainty because he gave me one of his rare smiles.

“Just relax, Zoe—I’ve got you.”

“Fine,” I said a bit stiffly. I wished I could do as he said and completely relax—wished I could pillow my head on his broad chest and just watch the scenery go by. Maybe I would have been able to—if I hadn’t known that my ultimate fate was to be traded away. But as it was, I was afraid to relax against him, afraid to let myself enjoy being carried so gently because I was frightened of what I might start to feel for the big Alien.

Just deal with it and don’t get too close,
I lectured myself as Sarden carried me past several deserted looking buildings.
It’s going to be over soon and besides, he’s only carrying you because that’s what a Majoran male would do for his female. But in the end, Sarden’s not going to treat you like a goddess—he’s going to trade you in like a used car he doesn’t want anymore. So there’s no point getting all warm and fuzzy just because he insists on carrying you.

The thoughts made me sad and a little bit angry. True, I’d agreed to be traded and I stood by my decision. It was, after all, for a good cause. But giving up your freedom and any chance you have of ever going home—even for a good cause—is hard. You go through a grieving process for your old way of life—the life you’re never going to have again. And isn’t one of the steps in the grieving process getting extremely pissed off?

It’s a step in
my
grieving process, anyway.

By the time we turned down a long, dark alleyway and finally found the entrance to the “extremely reputable” mechanic Count Doloroso had recommended, I was in something of a stew. I was feeling sad and homesick and also irritated with myself for being upset about something I couldn’t change. I was upset with Sarden too, for kidnapping me in the first place. After all, if he hadn’t picked me from that damn Alien Mate Index, I’d still be back at home bitching about my job and having girls’ nights out with Charlotte and Leah.

God, I missed them!

“Here we are—finally,” Sarden remarked, setting me down on my feet at last in front of a stained and pitted iron door with no sign of any kind that I could tell.

“What? How can you be sure?” I demanded, looking at the door and then at the area around us uneasily. The pinkish daylight didn’t penetrate very far into the mouth of the alley we found ourselves in and there were shadows everywhere which made me distinctly nervous. It looked like a really good place to get mugged—if I hadn’t been with a seven-foot tall alien, I might really have freaked out.

“The map says so,” Sarden said, showing the map that projected out of his ring again briefly.

“I don’t like it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered, still looking around.

“It’s only for a moment,” he assured me. “As soon as I can secure their services for tomorrow early, we’ll leave and go back to the ship.”

“Will you buy me a
nib-nib
monkey on the way back?” I asked hopefully. I was thinking that the little green and purple monkeys could keep me company once I was in my new habitat in Tazaxx’s zoo. Having a pet around can make you feel a lot less lonely.

He sighed. “I
really
don’t think you’d like them, Zoe.”

“What are you talking about? I
love
animals,” I protested. “I’d have like
seven
cats if my apartment complex would allow it. In fact, I fully intend to be a crazy cat lady when I get old.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head.

“As usual, I don’t understand your cultural references. Please just play your part well here and I promise I’ll buy you
something
you want in the docking area.”

“Like a
nib-nib,
right?” I persisted.

“You’ve got a one track mind, don’t you? No, I won’t promise a
nib-nib,”
he growled. “Now will you please come with me and act your part? We need to make this deal before the light cycle ends and it gets dark.”

“Fine.” I was pissed off but determined not to show it. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you. I will go first but only to check for danger.”

Sarden pushed open the metal door which gave with a rusty creaking sound and we entered a dimly lit room with a single counter against the far end and nothing else.

“Hello?” Sarden called. “Is anyone there?”

“Hello, good Sire and lovely lady-goddess.” A man popped up from behind the counter so quickly he looked like a jack-in-the-box suddenly released by its spring.

I gave a startled little scream and took a hop backwards, almost overbalancing in my stripper heels. Sarden grabbed me by the arm before I could hit the ground, however, and hauled me back upright.

“Be careful,” he growled. “I don’t need you breaking your neck on top of everything else.”

Well, so much for gallantry.

“So sorry,” I said icily. “I wouldn’t want to
inconvenience
you by injuring myself in the ridiculous shoes
you
gave me to wear.”

“Well, you—”

“Is there a problem, lady-goddess?” the man behind the counter asked, interrupting our argument before it could really gather steam. “Is this male mistreating you?”

I keep calling him a man but that was a really relative term here. I
assumed
he was a man but he wasn’t like any man I’d ever seen before. He wasn’t Ma
jor
an, that much was clear. His hair wasn’t blue—it was green. Also his skin was orange and he wasn’t very tall—not much taller than me. In fact, what he most reminded me of was an Oompa-Loompa from the old Willie Wonka movie.

“Lady-goddess?” he asked, still looking at me anxiously.

I looked at Sarden, who was glaring at me.

“He’s not mistreating me,
exactly
,” I said, after pretending to take a moment to consider it. “He’s just not being as, ah,
loving
as he could be.” I threw Sarden a sidelong glance. “In fact he’s being rather
rude.”

“Ah—too bad, too bad!” the little counter attendent exclaimed. “We cannot serve those males who do not reverence and worship their females. So says the boss-of-All.”

“And who might this ‘boss-of-all’ be?” Sarden growled.

“The boss of all who?” I asked. “Are there a lot more workers in the back?”

“No, no—of course not! The boss-of-All is the boss of
me
.” He poked his chest with his thumb. “I am All,” he clarified beaming.

“Wait—you mean your
name
is ‘All’?” I asked.

“Naturally.” He sounded really proud about it. “I am all the workers he has and so he calls me All, the boss-of-All does.”

“Right. Now that we cleared that up, All, I need to speak to your boss,” Sarden said, frowning. “Is he in the back? Can you call him?”

The little guy got a mulish expression on his green face.

“No, no—I’m afraid not! Not unless you show your lady-goddess proper respect.”

“But Count Doloroso sent us,” Sarden exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

“It does not matter who sent you—no it doesn’t!” All, the Oompa-Loompa, shook his head adamantly. “I will not call the boss-of-All until I see proper respect.”

Sarden looked at me and I looked at him and shrugged.
Your move, buddy.

“I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said shortly and then turned back to the counter. “Now get your damn boss out here!”

“No, no!” The Oompa-Loompa shook his finger reprovingly at Sarden. “This is not proper respect. This is not
worship.”

“Worship, huh?” Sarden looked like he wanted to punch the little guy right in his orange gums. Instead he faced me again, gritted his teeth, and got down on his knees, for all the world as though he was going to propose.

“Zoe,” he said, taking my hands in both of his and looking up at me—though he didn’t have to look very far—he was tall, even on his knees. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was disrespectful and rude.”

“Yes, it was,” I said, smiling just a little.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Sarden asked. Turning my hands over, he kissed them gently, laying a tender kiss in each of my open palms in turn.

I have to confess, my heart took a little leap, even though I knew it was an act. Not that I was going to show it—I could act too, damn it!

“
Maybe
I’ll forgive you,” I said slowly. “
If
you promise to buy me a
nib-nib.”

“What is it with you and the damn
nib-nibs?”
he growled in a low voice. “Really Zoe, I don’t think you’d like them—they scratch the inside of your mouth. And besides, you can make something that tastes just like them in the food-sim back at the ship. I’ll show you.”

“What? Scratch the inside of your mouth? What are you
talking
about?” I stared at him, totally not getting it. “Why would you put a pet in your mouth?”

“A pet?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Is
that
what you think they are?”

“What else could they
be?”
I demanded. “I—”

“Well now, All, why didn’t you tell me we had a customer?” a new voice boomed. Looking up, I saw it was a Ma
jor
an male with a dark blue beard and hair to match. His skin was the same tannish-brown of the male we’d met with his wife at the perfume seller’s place but he looked less refined and snobby—more of a man’s man, if you know what I mean.

“I’m sorry, Boss,” the Oompa-Loompa squeaked. “It’s true this male came in asking for service but he wasn’t showing his lady-goddess proper respect.”

“Well, he appears to be respecting her now,” the boss boomed. Except for the color of his hair and beard, he reminded me of a retired biker who had decided to open an auto body shop. He even had on a grease-stained coverall-type garment that looked like it had seen better days. He raised his voice—(like it wasn’t already loud enough—seriously, he could teach my old boss a thing or two about yell-talking) and roared, “Goddess, is your male treating you with adequate care and attention?”

I looked down at Sarden and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Goddess,” he said in a low voice, really laying it on thick now. “I
worship
you—you know that.”

He pulled me closer, pressing his face right between my breasts as though he didn’t want even a millimeter of distance between us.

My stomach did a little flip at the feeling of his long, muscular arms wrapped around me so securely. I couldn’t help myself—even though it was an act, I still liked it. Taking pity on him, I decided to play along.

“Sarden,” I murmured, running my hands through his thick, black hair, just as the female Ma
jor
an had been doing with her mate back at the perfume seller. “Sarden, my darling, you know I
adore you.”

Since they were right there, I started playing with his horns too. I’d always kind of wanted to touch them, almost from the moment I found out he
wasn’t
really the Devil dragging me down to Hell. They were fascinating, growing out from the sides of his temples in thick, short, sharp curves. They weren’t nearly as long as a bull’s horns, though that was what they mostly reminded me of. I ran my hands up and down them, swirling my fingers around their bases and sliding up to the sharp tips curiously.

Sarden trembled against me as I touched him and his grip around my waist tightened as he pressed his face fiercely between my breasts. “Goddess…Zoe, you shouldn’t,” he groaned in a deep, hoarse voice. Wow, he really
was
laying it on thick.

“Shouldn’t what, my darling? Shouldn’t forgive you?” I asked sweetly, laying it on a bit myself. Hey, I took drama in high school—I know how it’s done.

“Uh, goddess? Goddess?”

It took me a minute to realize that the big biker-looking Ma
jor
an was talking to me. He and his Oompa-Loompa were watching Sarden and me with wide eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, still caressing Sarden’s horns as I spoke to them.

“Normally I encourage all kinds of worship between a male and his goddess,” the boss said. “But…your male is a Vorn, isn’t he?”

“He’s part Vorn, why? Is that a problem?” I demanded, all ready to do battle if this guy started bringing racial bias into it. From what little he’d told me, Sarden had had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

The Ma
jor
an mechanic frowned.

“It
wouldn’t
be if you weren’t,
ahem
, playing with his horns,” he said, frowning.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “He’s just, uh, worshipping me like he’s supposed to—that’s all.”

“Yes, but some kinds of worship are best left in the bedroom,” he growled. “I can’t have the two of you pleasuring each other right here in my shop—how would it look if another customer comes in?”

“Pleasuring each other? What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I’m just, you know, stroking his horns.”

“And look how they’ve grown!” All, the Oompa-Loompa, squeaked.

“Grown?” I looked down and frowned. Sure enough, Sarden’s horns
did
seem longer now. But how was that possible?

“A Vorn’s horns are erogenous zones,” the boss said bluntly. “Some say they’re best used to guide him when he’s…
ahem…
worshipping his goddess with his tongue.”