Chapter 9
Blair
Bruce Lee once said, “Do not pray for an easy life; pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.” I had never once taken that advice.
Not today, not yesterday, or any day before.
Nor did I have the strength to deal with a difficult life.
I wanted softness. Comfort, money, fame, but not the overwhelming kind of fame where I couldn’t leave my house without getting harassed and had to pay for friends like a weirdo.
Not possible, I know. Shut up, it’s my fantasy.
Despite all my prayers and lack of qualifications, life just kept testing me. It was almost like it wanted me to crash out. No, fuck almost, it did want me to crash out. Why else would I be kidnapped by birds and taken in by some violent-ass aliens?
The room sat frozen as Osid pinned the other man to the wall.
Tension hung in the air so thick you could feel it weigh on your skin like Atlanta humidity.
Osid released the man at last and turned to the rest of the room.
With one word, everyone got up and fled.
Even the onlookers at the window had vanished like ghosts in the aftermath of their leader’s wrath.
I moved to get up and follow them, not wanting to be alone with the clearly enraged Osid.
“Lo,” Osid said. I froze as teal eyes impaled me to my seat. From across the room, I could feel the raw sexual magnetism that only added to his self-confidence. I thought that was what pissed me off the most. I’d watched this man throw up red flag after red flag, and I’d still let him hit.
He was just so…powerful. Which was an odd choice for me because I normally liked my men pathetic and desperate. Great. Now I was picturing what he sounded like on his knees and whimpering. ’Cause that was gonna help this situation.
He strolled forward and extended a hand.
When I took it, he pulled me upright, and moved his hand to the small of my back as he guided us from the room.
An electrifying shudder coursed through me at the warmth of his touch.
I let him guide me down the torchlit stone hallway, keeping my gaze fixed ahead, wary of meeting the intensity in his teal eyes again.
Something about this man unsettled me in a way I couldn’t explain.
There was a barely restrained ferocity beneath his calm exterior that both scared the shit out of me and had butterflies dancing in my lower belly.
I didn’t know what that tattooed guy said to piss him off that bad, but watching him pin another man down like that was kinda…
Despite my determination to appear nonchalant, my heart thudded at his nearness. The memory of his raw strength against that tattooed guy and from the battle earlier today kept replaying in my mind. Osid was dangerous, feral—I shouldn’t take him lightly.
As we reached a set of heavy wooden doors at the end of the hall, I steeled myself for whatever would come next. I’d stay alert, ready to flee at the first sign of aggression from Osid. Or just shoot him. But I only had five bullets left, so using the gun would have to remain a last resort.
A small, reckless part of me was curious to see what other kinds of distractions I could cause behind those closed doors.
Osid pushed open the heavy wooden doors, revealing a lavishly decorated bedchamber lit by flickering torchlight. Which was odd, because there were regular-looking overhead lights.
“Why don’t you just turn those lights on?” I checked the walls for any light switches and found none. “Huh. Maybe they ran out of power.”
Tapestries depicting fierce battle scenes adorned the stone walls.
My eyes were drawn to the massive canopied bed on a raised dais, draped in luxurious furs.
Despite my misgivings, curiosity got the better of me.
I wandered farther into the room, trailing my fingers along the carved bedpost. Osid moved to a door on the opposite end of the room and gestured inside, where I found a bathroom, complete with the one thing in the world I wanted most.
“A shower!” I gasped.
Osid cranked the knob back and forth, letting the water turn on and off like he was trying to explain its mechanisms to a child.
I grabbed him by the horn and dragged him out of the way.
Cranking the heat to as high as it could go, I kicked the king out the door and stripped off my coat.
“I know how to use a shower, just move!”
He turned back wide-eyed just as the door slammed in his face.
Tossing my coat behind me, I got to work unbuttoning my pants as the water heated. Once properly stripped, I stuck a hand in the water to check the temp, and grinned when it felt just right. I moved to step inside, then I noticed my jacket…was floating. Floating!
On the floor of the corner I threw it in, there was a green glowing triangle painting on the ground.
Inside it was a smaller red circle that pulsed a light upward onto the green-dyed leather of my jacket.
Then I noticed the mud that was caked on the back suddenly vanished into thin air. “Oh, no way,” I breathed.
Gathering up the rest of my clothing, I threw them in the green cleaning thing and set to work on myself.
The joy of scrubbing off muck, blood, and dinosaur smell was so wonderful, and I didn’t even fuss about having to use the manly smelling soap resting on the shelf inside the shower.
Various other oils and creams decorated the shelf, but I had no idea what was used for what.
I picked up a jar of something that had the consistency of sugar rub, and debated if I wanted to try cleaning my face with it.
A nice scrub would do wonders, but the last thing I wanted was to clog my pores with some weird alien ass cream.
A shadow moved past the room, and I instinctively ducked against the shower curtain. Until I realized that it had just come from someone passing by the window. A decorative blue pattern curtain draped across it, shielding me from any onlookers, and I went back to scrubbing mud out of my hair.
“Wait a minute. I could use that window.” Rinsing off, I grabbed a towel to dry myself and stepped out.
I lifted the curtain and peeked out the window to find the road outside empty.
Sounds of laughter could be heard around the corner, but the only soul on the empty street was a squirrel skittering atop the large wooden fence that surrounded the encampment.
There was a beam farther down that looked more rotted than the surrounding wood.
The bottom of the post looked cracked and already had a hole big enough for a small cat.
Probably wouldn’t take much to kick it loose and duck out of here.
A knock at the door had me slamming the window shut. I turned around just in time to see a silk robe thrust through the door. Reaching out to grab it, I muttered a quiet thank-you. The door shut once more.
I wasn’t entirely sure how long the green triangle thing would take to wash my clothes, so I donned the robe.
It was a simple off-white color that draped well past my legs and dragged on the floor.
Not too surprising considering all the men in this camp were giant hooved aliens.
I cast a longing glance at the window and wondered if I should just don my filthy clothes and try to escape now.
But how far would I get with a testy alien hot on my trail?
No, now wasn’t the time for rash escape attempts.
It would be better to leave in the night while Osid slept.
The sun had sunk well over an hour ago, and the man must already be as exhausted from the day as I was.
He couldn’t be awake for much longer. Waiting was clearly the safer bet.
Deviousness fluttered in my lower belly when I thought of ways to make sure the grumpy alien was good and tired.
My hand paused on the doorknob. Is it odd that I’m so wildly attracted to aliens? They had language, and reason, and culture from the looks of the artwork on the walls. They’d definitely pass the Wechsler test if given it. Yeah, I’m probably fine.
Turning the knob, I stepped out to find Osid waiting just outside the door. He guided me to a small table near a carved stone fireplace, where a veritable feast had been laid out. My mouth watered at the sight—juicy meats, exotic fruits, and savory pastries that made my empty stomach roar.
“Tsak,” Osid commanded, his tone gentler than I expected.
I didn’t need to be told twice. As I dug in with a vengeance, Osid disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower start up again.
I was halfway through a sweet berry tart when he returned with a small bottle in hand wearing nothing—and I did mean nothing—but a loincloth.
The rope holding the flimsy fabric in place sank low on his hips.
I could do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, as a bead of water slid from his chiseled abdomen down the dip of his hip bone.
I couldn’t help but stare at the defined muscles of his chest and arms, marred by the crisscross of scars and still-fresh bruises mottling his dark-gray skin.
The teal spots that decorated his shoulders and palms continued down the sides of his torso.
When he turned his back to me to tend to the fire—sweet mother of god, that chiseled back—a line of them continued down his spine.
I swallowed down a bite of fruit and tried not to drool.
He set the bottle on the table and pulled up a seat next to mine, then held out a hand. I looked at it blankly for a moment, then picked up a berry tart and put it in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then barked out a laugh.
“What?” The word came out muffled through the food stuffed in my mouth. I took a moment to swallow. “You can’t just hold out your hand and expect me to understand. I thought you were just hungry.”