Alien Romance: Snatched By The Alien: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW) (Celestial Protectors Book 3) (10 page)

*

Galtan didn’t want the greedy limbs, tentacles, or eyes of those around to touch her.  Though familiar with the processes of the auction houses, he was not of a mind to go through the motions with Spirit.

The
displayer
dashed away from her; so called for the transparent nature of its specialized
limbs
– tentacles really. 
Displayers
were aliens hired by slavers.  They would probe a human’s orifices with the clear tentacles, holding a female’s body open. 

The process served a couple of purposes: first many buyers wanted to scrupulously examine their new purchase; many buyers also took great enjoyment in the humiliation and degradation that the slave would feel from the process; and lastly it was simply another method by which a new slave could be further broken.

“My lord?”  Galtan’s position awarded him such an address, Lord Commander of the Armies – of the entire super planet of Amirak-Ren.

“I don’t pay a fortune for a slave, for your minions to turn around and expose what is mine, to everyone.”  Galtan kept his voice cold, menacing, as he walked to the pale beauty.  Her skin was coated with a light sheen of sweat even though her body shuddered – the sedative that had been used to tame her for the auction wasn’t sitting well in her body.

Galtan didn’t bother with unfastening the restraints; instead, he pulled the small blade at his hip and sliced through the bonds.  The ties keeping the female’s legs splayed went first, then those at her wrists.  Galtan pulled her from the display ring, set her on the floor before him, and turned her – he had been right about her eyes.  Even glazed by drug fever, the human’s eyes sparkled as vividly as they had during the fight at the space port.

*

Amelia was relieved to be off that infernal ring.  Though she had been tied to it, her weight had been centered on the arches of her feet.  Yet, more than her feet being happy, she was thrilled to not be spread open for alien amusement.

It had been disconcerting when she had felt a blade slide against her skin, but the edge had been meant for the bonds, not Amelia’s skin.  Now, she was on the floor, and whatever being had
rights
– according to this world he did – to her was turning her body to look at it…him.  It was certainly a ‘him,’ and he could have easily passed for human.

The world kept trying to spin, but Amelia was determined to get a good look at the alien that had purchased her. 
Or am I the alien
– her thoughts were beginning to haze-over. 
Please don’t let me pass out in front of all of these beings. Please don’t let me pass out.
 

Amelia tried to focus her eyes and caught a glimpse of lavender.  Lavender, the shade of the sweetest smelling Angel Face rose.  Determined, her eyes focused again.  As Amelia registered that the man staring down at her had lavender eyes, he must have seen something in hers.

The intergalactic male – Amelia was still trying to decide which of them was the ‘alien’ in this circumstance – abruptly turned to walk in the direction of the door, pulling her with him by the hard grip he had on her bicep.

*

She was about to faint.

Her eyes had cleared, and then glazed; cleared again, glazed over once more.  If she dropped, he would have been expected to drag her across the rough floor.  Galtan chose to get the female out of the auction house before faced with that issue.  He grabbed the paperwork and ownership tag for the human from the clerk as he hauled her through the doors into the dark Amirak-Ren night.

A squawk made him stop, and turn to look at the human. 
Oh.  I forgot how cold many beings find Amirak-Ren to be.  With the drug fever, she has to be absolutely freezing.
  Galtan glanced around, the street was all but deserted; the late-night foot traffic had not yet emerged from their evening’s entertainment. 

He stripped the cloak from his shoulders, then pushed the female’s arms through the voluminous sleeves, wrapped the heavy fabric around her body, and lifted her.  The walkways were coated with ice – Galtan suspected the human race was not bred to have extended contact between ice and their bare skin.

He hiked between the buildings of the space imports district.  After navigating the pathways for a while, putting as much ground as he could between the auction houses and his human, Galtan rounded a corner and a sign caught his eye.  He adjusted his course to take him to the shops door. 

Obviously in the process of closing up for the evening, a withered little man turned and recognized Galtan.

“My Lord Commander of the Armies, what can I do for so noble a figure this night?”

“Do you have time to place a translator implant? I also need the ill effects of a sedative negated.”  Galtan placed the female down before the elderly healer and drew his cloak from her shivering body.

“What did they give her?  This looks like Pandor poisoning.  Bring her back here.”  The healer turned and shuffled into a back room.  Galtan scooped up the human again; his cloak tossed over his shoulder and followed the old man.

“Put her on the table with the attached scanner,” the healer shuffled about the room flipping the switches of his sensory equipment.  Galtan placed the woman – he was pretty certain that is what humans called the females of their kind – down on the indicated examination table. 

The healer approached the controls of the scanner and noticed how wet the shift she wore was – he stared for a moment, but not in a way that made Galtan want to carve the man’s eyes from his skull; instead the gaze was considering.  Finally, it seemed the man had made a decision and addressed Galtan.

“The shift she wears, its balka cloth; while it is quite translucent to our eyes, that fabric can impair the scanner’s readings, which is why so many smugglers use it.  In order for me to make a clear and comprehensive assessment, it needs to come off.” 

Galtan did not achieve his position by acting a fool, so he stared at the healer and saw the man was truthful.  With a heavy sigh, Galtan pulled the blade from his hip once more – he would just wrap her in the cloak when the healer was finished with his work.

*

Amelia felt the blade against her skin once more; however, unlike the time before, the cold metal slid between her breasts.  Confused, she tried to get away.  Amelia couldn’t figure out what was going on – it didn’t help that the migraine was nearly unbearable, she was freezing, and all she could see were vague shapes. 

All she knew was that the metal table beneath her was cold, and that there was another being nearby talking to the one with the booming voice; though, his voice was not booming at the moment.

“
Tagyek truga – threk bagastan,”
the words were soft as they were spoken close to her ear – they were for her, not the other intergalactic in the room
.
“
Moyda vatkel Ii’f dan-ro.
” 

Then her intergalactic…or was she his? 
I am so confused – this is worse than what those bastard slavers gave me the first time.  The hell-with-it
,
I might as well consider the Lavender eyes mine.  Why is his hand on my chest?

Amelia’s head lolled from side to side; nothing was clear anymore, until that distinct ripping sound.  She could focus on that sound, because the man was cutting away the shift, and Amelia was sure that she wasn’t OK with that.

*

Though he knew that she couldn’t understand him, not until she had the translator implant placed, Galtan tried to sooth the female.  She felt the blade against her skin and was starting to struggle.

“Settle down – stop moving.  I’m not going to cut you.”  He spoke gently against her ear.  Then he settled his palm just below the hollow of her throat, caught the fabric of the soaking shift on the blade of his knife and sliced through – from neck to hem.  He then sliced the crude straps that hung the garment on her shoulders. 

The human was fighting; Galtan hated taking the only shield she had away.  While she weakly thrashed and kicked, Galtan pulled the ruined balka from beneath her.  The human female hissed when her fevered skin touched the cool metal.

“I had hoped she would not fight; I can tell you would rather not bind her to the table and I cannot sedate her until I negate the effects of the poison.”

“Give me a moment; let me see if I can convince her to hold still for the scans.”  Keeping his hands gentle – Galtan did not want to bruise the female’s delicate skin – he grasped her wrists in one hand and stretched them over her head. 

Then he caught her legs beneath the other hand at the mid-joint,
is it called a knee on a human?
  Keeping his hand away from the human’s sex, Galtan carefully pinned her to the table.

“Settle down. 
Settle down.
”

*

Amelia couldn’t move – she didn’t want to show weakness and cry, but nothing was making sense.

“
Tagyek truga –
tagyek truga.
”
  While the male wasn’t hurting her, he seemed to be taking care to not do so, Amelia couldn’t move.  Her eyes started to tear in frustration.

“
Ro-ro – Alahi yhevet dan-ro.  Moyda’f gaylea.”
Amelia’s intergalactic leaned in close and rubbed his forehead against her own.  Their noses touched, tip-to-tip and he pushed air through his teeth,
“Ssssss. Tagyek truga.”
  He was trying to get her to calm down. 

Amelia forced herself to take a breath and to stop struggling; once she was as still as her shivering body would allow, Lavender-eyes took his right hand from her legs.  He then rearranged her arms, settling them at her sides.

*

The healer was right, Galtan didn’t want to bind the human – he wanted her to relax, especially when he saw the tears.

“No, no.  Spirit, don’t cry.  You’re alright.”  He inexplicably sought a more companionable contact with her and had put his skin to hers, nose-to-nose as he had seen the couples of other races do. “Sssss, Settle down.”  Finally, the woman seemed to calm.

Galtan rearranged her arms when he was confident she would stay as he put her so the healer could scan her.  He went nose-to-nose with the female once more, just for a moment; then he stood and took a step back as the device hummed to life and zipped over her curves.

“Pandor as I thought – but what we need the scanner to tell us is the specific variety.  Here it is: Pandor – Strain 7 – Abeebran origin.”

“From the beetles?”   The old man had wisely said nothing of Galtan’s behavior with a human slave.

“Yes, it is popular with groups such as
collectors
because it is cheap; however, it if is not harvested correctly, it can have very bad side-effects.  Such as the ones your human is exhibiting.”

“You can treat it, yes?”

“Absolutely,” the healer held up an injection gun.  “I have already loaded the necessary remedy.  It’ll be easier on her if I deposit the remedy in a large muscle.”

Galtan returned to his position at the table – the opposite side as the healer – and lifted one of the human’s legs.  He pushed the mid-joint toward her chest, exposing and tightening the shapely curve of the woman’s hindquarters.   She whimpered as the healer put the loaded injection gun against her skin there, and then yelped as the remedy was shot into the muscle.

“You wanted a translator implant too, right?” the old man confirmed, as he shuffled to retrieve an implant.  Galtan saw the healer select a base model.

“Do you have any 1800KLP models?” The 1800 was the best available, the one Galtan had implanted behind his own right ear.

“I do.”

              “Put in an 1800, then.”  At the querying look Galtan answered the healer’s question, “She needs the language varieties to be of use in my household.”

“Of course my lord.”

After the implant was surgically placed, the healer compensated for his time and services, and the – correctly – sedated female bundled into his cloak, Galtan resumed his trek through the streets. 

When, near the dawn of the first of Amirak-Ren’s twin suns, Galtan finally reached the door of his silent home, he contemplated his lie to the healer – she didn’t need the best implant in order to navigate his household, there was no one in it but himself…and now Spirit.

Chapter 2 …
Language, Culture, and Promises… and Ogling

Amelia woke under iridescent green light.  She raised her body into a sitting position, and found herself ensconced in the largest bed she had ever seen: easily twelve feet – by – twelve feet. A gauzy sheet was pooled around her hips.  The walls of the room she was in were glimmering crystal, like the citrine-colored ones the night before. 
Well, as far as I know that was last night.
 

A heavy footfall rapped outside the door of the room; Amelia pulled the gauze over her breasts as the door swung wide.  Wide cobalt eyes met lavender ones across the room.  From lips made for sin, the booming voice – though it was much more mellow now – spilled into the easy quiet of the alien morning. 

“Good you’re awake.”  The man was bass, his voice low and clear; his diction, meticulous, betrayed many years’ practice of uttering commands.  Suddenly, Amelia realized something different that when she last heard the man speak.

Why can I understand him?

“You have been fitted with a translator implant – it should make things easier for you.”  He must have seen the question on her face; however, that also meant he could see the panic that resulted from the answer.