Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
LILY
Zan is pissing me off.
Not that there’s anything unusual about that. It’s been nearly a week now, and my alien partner has made it an art form. The huge purple draegon seems to know exactly how to push my buttons, and what’s worse, he seems to delight in doing it.
Right now, the button he’s repeatedly pressing is accompanied by loud, obnoxious singing… the alien version of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall is even worse than ours. He’s off-key, too.
It is, as it turns out, the actual song that never ends.
“Can you knock it the fuck off?” My voice is tight. Sure, I cussed, but I didn’t scream at him and frankly I deserve an award for my otherworldly patience.
Even if the other world is just Earth.
We’re going on day three of nothing but the food we can find in this god-forsaken place, on top of the worst sleep I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life.
Then there is the heat.
I am, very literally, not a happy camper.
The heat is the worst. I’m sweating constantly, and despite being the temperature of a volcano, I also have chills. Constantly. Sweating, shivering, shaking—this draegon-induced heat is not for the faint of heart. Or body.
Or anything at all, really.
“I will stop singing if you let me mate you,” Zan tells me, for the fifteenth time. “Or if you let me fashion you new shoes.”
This morning, I solved a puzzle that allowed us to have the translators inserted, and now I’m wishing I hadn’t. It’s constantly this or the alien song from hell.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I growl. “I’d rather stick my wet hair into an electrical socket than let you stick your plug into me.”
Zan lets out a rip-roaring laugh, as if we’re old buddies and I’ve just made the best joke he’s ever heard. “I do not know what an electrical sock is, but I assume when you say my plug you mean my cock.” He smirks. “You can call it whatever you like.”
“Leave. Me. Alone.”
“You don’t want me to leave,” he says, staring at me. “You won’t survive on your own. Besides.” He smiles. “I can provide you with new animals to make shoes out of.”
My favorite pink bunny rabbit slippers deteriorated four days ago; my socks didn’t last much longer.
I cried over them, in front of Zan, and he hasn’t let me forget it.
“Fuck you.” The words are a snarl, and I’m surprised at how enraged I am.
Gonna blame that on the heat, too.
“That is the general idea, yes.” He nods, eyes gleaming. “Fucking you.”
I hate—hate—that the way he says it, that gravelly, sensual voice paired with his gorgeous alien face and perfect, tall body makes me wet.
And it’s all his fault because he poisoned me with his stupid-ass mating serum, which is making me both horny and miserable.
“It is a figure of SPEECH!” I scream. “GO AWAY.”
He blinks.
His wings fan out, and without another word, the white-haired purple Draegon sails off into the sky.
Slightly stunned, I watch him disappear, spiraling higher and higher, until he’s a lavender speck against the fluffy white clouds.
Finally. Silence.
I let out a sigh.
The relief lasts about point two seconds before the heat sends a wave of desire and rage down my spine.
Then there’s the fact that I’m totally worried to be on my own.
Zan is The Actual Worst, TM, but he was a lot more prepared to deal with whatever the fuck happens in this damned torture chamber of a show.
I wince, hoping the AI can’t read minds, because now all I can think about is Saw, which I didn’t even want to watch but an ex-boyfriend made me sit through the entire franchise and some things you just can’t unsee.
Asshole.
I kick a rock, and it goes nowhere, just makes my toe ache from my ridiculous attempt at physical violence against it.
Sighing, I continue on the blatant path the damned AI made for us. I’m sure Zan will be back, but until he is, I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet.
Or ELSE.
My mood improves every second he’s gone, so much so that I’m humming, walking briskly along the path, hardly paying attention to where I am, just happy not to hear Zan beg for sex or sing. Hell, he might be fun for other things if he could keep his mouth shut.
Or open when and where I want it.
Something zips at ground level, and I screech as a thin line tightens around my ankle, hauling me into the air, hanging by my right leg. Which very quickly starts to lose sensation as I swing around.
I didn’t see it, and now it’s too late.
Which is why, I suppose, it’s a trap—because you don’t see it. That’s the whole point.
“Help.” I cry out, hoping, for the first time, that Zan will come running.
He doesn’t come running.
He doesn’t come flying.
Nobody is coming, especially not me.
“Help,” I yell again, flailing around, trying to get loose, only succeeding in spinning around like fishing bait.
Simply thinking the word bait makes me fall silent. Bait is not something I want to compare myself too, but I think it might be all too close to reality.
And now, unluckily for me, all I can think about are the awful horror movies my ex loved. Blood pounds in my ears as I attempt to slow my breathing, conserve my energy, or whatever the fuck you’d call silently weeping while dangling by one leg.
At some point, I pass out.
When I come to—barely conscious—it’s twilight, dark pressing in on all sides. Behind me, a crash sounds, a crackling in the underbrush that could be footsteps.
God, I hope it’s footsteps.
“Zan,” I say weakly. “I’m so sorry; I was wrong, please cut me down, I need you.”
I scream as I spin, coming face-to-face with the thing crunching through the forest.
This isn’t good.
Not good at all.