Chapter 2
The dropship didn't land so much as it fell out of the sky, braking at the last second with a scream that rattled her teeth in her skull.
The narrow alley turned into a wind tunnel. Garbage bins toppled, throwing rubbish across the wet pavement, and a cloud of grit whipped into a frenzy.
Emily threw her hands up, squeezing her eyes shut as the world dissolved into madness.
Then the madness vanished. Or rather, it was blocked.
A wall of heat and leather slammed into her.
Raaevik curled his massive body around hers, hunching over to shield her from the flying debris.
He was huge, a solid barrier against the wind.
She pressed against him, feeling the hardness of his heavily-muscled frame.
.. everywhere. God, he was built like a freaking mountain. And he was wrapped around her.
It was terrifying and also the safest she had ever felt in her life. Ever.
Which was absurd. The man was her kidnapper, and the reason she was cowering in an alley next to a skip full of rotting vegetables. But as a piece of brick ricocheted off his shoulder with a dull thud, she didn't pull away. Instead, she buried her face in his coat. Safe. God help her.
The wind died, and the engines’ scream dropped to a throbbing hum.
"Move," Raaevik growled, but before she could reply, the ground fell away.
He didn't grab her arm or shove her this time. Instead, he hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and suddenly she was airborne. She gasped, clutching his shoulders. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
She blinked. One second, they were in the alley, and the next, he strode up the lowered ramp of the ship with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for someone carrying another being.
"Put me down!" she struggled against his grip. "I have legs!"
He ignored her.
They crossed the threshold into the ship’s belly, and the air changed. The city's humidity vanished, replaced by recycled, metallic dryness. The lighting was dim, bathed in a harsh, tactical red glow. And it smelled, not like garbage, but like weapons oil and sweat.
Raaevik deposited her into a seat along the bulkhead. It wasn't a passenger seat. It was a crash harness, rigid and utilitarian, clearly designed for someone much larger than she was.
"Stay," he ordered.
"I'm not a dog," she snapped, scrambling to sit upright as the seat's padding, or lack of it, dug into her back.
He didn't respond. He leaned over her, his hands moving to the straps hanging above her shoulders.
Way too close.
In the cramped confines, he was overwhelming.
His hair brushed against her cheek as he reached across her.
His chest was a wall of black leather inches from her nose.
She held her breath, trying not to inhale, but it was useless.
His scent — leather and something dark, like rain on hot stone and sheer male — filled her nostrils, hitting her on a primal level and making her feel light-headed.
For a second, she had the insane urge to lean forward and nuzzle the side of his neck.
Get a grip, Em, she hissed to herself. He was an alien warlord’s goon, not her date.
He clicked the buckles together over her chest, tightening the straps until she was firmly pinned but not crushed. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast as he adjusted the cross-harness, and she flinched.
He froze.
Slowly, he pulled back. His violet eyes locked onto hers. In the red light, they looked black. There was no apology in his gaze, just an intensity that made her skin prickle.
He checked the buckle one last time, giving it a sharp tug. Satisfied, he straightened.
"Secure," he muttered, more to himself than her, just as the deck lurched.
Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and she clung to her harness. The engines roared again, a deeper, bone-shaking sound that vibrated through the seat's metal frame. Gravity pressed down on her chest, heavy and relentless.
"Oh god," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh god, we're going to die."
They were leaving Earth.
The realization hit her harder than the G-force. She wasn't just going to a quiet office to sort this out. She was leaving the planet. Leaving the shelter. Leaving Austin to wonder where she went. Leaving—
"My cat," she blurted out, opening her eyes.
Raaevik looked down at her from where he was standing, gripping an overhead strap with one hand, riding the violent ascent as he did every day. Thinking about it, he probably did.
"I need to text Amelia," she said, her voice rising. She fumbled for her pocket, but the harness pinned her arms too tightly. "I need to tell her to feed Barnaby. He’s diabetic! He needs his insulin shots, or he gets lethargic and—"
"No comms," Raaevik said. "Too dangerous. Use of unauthorized communication devices is prohibited."
"He's a cat! He doesn't care about prohibited comms or anything! He just knows his bowl is empty!" She struggled against the straps. "Let me send one text. Just one. 'Feed Barnaby. I've been abducted by aliens.'"
Raaevik stared at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to ignore her again. Then, the harsh line of his mouth softened.
"The cat will be fed." His voice was still gravel, still deep enough to drown in, but the bite was gone. "I'll send someone. The feline won't starve."
She blinked. "You... you will?"
"Yes."
He turned away, scanning the transport. She looked around for the first time. Shit, they weren't alone.
Three other aliens sat in the harnesses near the back of the compartment. They were massive, just like Raaevik, wearing similar dark leather combat uniforms. They sat perfectly still, hands loose near their holsters, radiating a silent, professional menace.
Except for the one on the end. He'd taken off his helmet, and he was young. Younger than Raaevik for sure, with skin the color of burnished copper and a shock of dark hair. He was looking at her with curiosity.
Catching her eye, he smiled. It was a small thing. Tentative.
"Welcome aboard, little—"
Raaevik exploded, moving so fast that her brain couldn't track it. One second he was standing in the aisle; the next, there was a blur of motion and a sickening clang of metal as he slammed the man’s head back against the bulkhead, denting the plating.
A snarl ripped from his throat, a feral, guttural sound.
"Do not," Raaevik hissed, face inches from the other warrior's, "look at her."
The younger warrior’s hands came up in surrender. His eyes were wide, shocked.
"Sub-Commander," he choked out. "I meant no—"
"Eyes. Forward." Raaevik’s voice dropped to a murderous whisper. "If you speak to her, if you look at her, I will rip your tongue out."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the engines seemed to quiet down.
She sat frozen in her harness as she stared at Raaevik’s back. The muscles in his shoulders were bunched tight, trembling with restrained violence.
Slowly, Raaevik released the other alien. He stepped back, straightening his jacket with a sharp, jerky motion. He didn't look at the other aliens. He didn't need to. They were all staring rigidly at the floor, terrified to even blink.
He turned back to her. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the violet until his eyes were black pits. He looked like he wanted to hit something else. Several somethings.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded.
"Am I...?" She gaped at him. "You just assaulted your coworker because he said hello!"
"He was disrespectful."
"He smiled. Call the space cops."
He didn't answer, glaring at her. He braced himself as the ship banked sharply, his feet planted wide on the deck.
She swallowed hard. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold, creeping dread. She knew how to read aggression.
On humans. She had no idea how to read aliens.
"So," she said, trying to keep her voice level. She forced herself to take a breath. All she had to do was figure out the rules, and she could work from there. "Is this standard operating procedure? Beating up anyone who looks at the package?"
Raaevik’s gaze flicked to hers. "You are not a package."
She arched her brow. "Really? Because you're treating me like cargo. Very fragile, very expensive cargo that you don't want anyone else to touch."
"You are the Emperor's matched mate," he said, the words stiff. "You are sacred."
"Sacred," she repeated, ignoring the bitterness of the word. "Hmmm... Is that why you kidnapped me? Because I'm sacred?"
"We retrieved you."
"Against my will."
"Your will is irrelevant compared to the needs of the Empire."
"Oh wow. Okay. You really bought into the cult crap, didn't you?" She glared up at him. "Does his majesty, the emperor, know his head cheerleader is this intense? Or is this just a personal hobby of yours?"
A muscle feathered in Raaevik's jaw. "My loyalty to the Emperor is absolute. To serve him is the highest honor. To protect what is his is the only purpose of my existence."
"And if he told you to jump out the airlock?" she asked.
"I would ask which one."
"If he told you to kill me?"
Raaevik went still.
"He would not," Raaevik said softly. "You are his matched mate."
"But if he did?" She pushed. "If your glorious Emperor decided I wasn't sacred anymore. If he said, 'Raaevik, dispose of her.' Would you do it?"
He stared down at her. His eyes had gone dark, the violet barely a ring around all that black.
"I am sworn to his service," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "It is not my place to question his orders."
* * *
The dropship ramp hit the deck with a clang that vibrated up through Emily's bones.
Raaevik's hand closed around her elbow before Emily’s feet even touched the metal. Not rough, but not gentle either. Just there.
"Stay close," he said.
She wanted to tell him to fuck off, given that he was attached to her like a barnacle with boundary issues. But the words died in her throat the moment she looked up.
Holy. Shit.
Devan Station was... immense.