His dark eyes pin me in place. They’re not entirely human; his pupils are far larger than ours. He probably has better vision than I do. That might explain why the kitchen is dimly lit, now feeling more intimate than creepy.
“You’re not what I imagined,” he rumbles, his deep voice resonating. Behind him, his long tail swings in the air. I can’t tell where to focus at times—on him or his tail, or my rushing and cascading thoughts.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my mouth full of another bite of mystery meat, immediately self-conscious. My eyes dart around the kitchen, settling on the block of knives behind him. Do I have food stuck in my teeth? Are my table manners atrocious enough to offend an alien? And why am I so disappointed that he’s not impressed by me?
Perhaps it’s because most people aren’t… My ex certainly wasn’t.
“I thought a hotel critic would have a far nicer ship, for starters,” he clarifies with a roguish grin, his white fangs flashing.
A laugh bubbles up, only to die in my throat. A hotel critic? Why on Earth—or whatever planet this is—would he think that I’m here to review his hotel?
I scowl down at my food. Maybe I can trust Sutek… maybe not.
I just need to play along and try to gather information without raising suspicion. For all I know, it’s common to be a slave on this alien world, and if I announce that the dragon guy abducted me, there’s no guarantee I’ll end up in a better situation. If I can find a way to defend myself, though…
How hard is it to pretend to review a hotel? To sleep in their beds, use their pool, visit the restaurants…
Being mistaken for a hotel critic is the perfect cover story, at least temporarily.
“I can do that,” I say to myself, nodding. I’m not completely heartless in my desperation. If I get a chance to rest for just one night, I’ll research how to write the most fantastic review this place is ever likely to get. If I can figure out how to use their computers, that is.
Sutek raises an eyebrow at me in question.
“Oh, I mean, I can still do the job,” I lie smoothly, adopting my new fictional identity. “I assume my assistant arranged everything?”
Please, don’t ask for ID or payment, I silently plead, shoveling in another mouthful to hide my nerves. Hopefully, he’ll overlook any inconsistencies, considering the spacecraft crash and all.
Sutek plucks the spoon from my hand with a playful grin, scooping up a juicy bite of meat swimming in savory gravy. He brings it teasingly close to my lips.
“Eat, little human,” he purrs, voice dropping an octave. “Everything has been arranged for your satisfaction. Allow me to see to your pleasure while you are our guest.”
A delicious shiver runs down my spine at the promise in those words. I lean toward him, lips parting…
Only to be betrayed by a massive head rush that grays out my vision and sends the world spinning around me.
I’m dimly aware of strong arms catching me before I face-plant onto my dinner plate. Blinking dazedly, I notice Sutek’s chiseled features creased with concern mere inches from my own.
“Breathe, little bravi,” Sutek mumbles. I blink up at him. Somehow, he’s managed to get around the table and catch me before I fell.
“Whoa there,” I slur with a loopy grin. “Are you my superhero? You certainly have the reflexes of one.”
I’m distantly aware that I wouldn’t act like this normally, but my mind feels fuzzy. I am absolutely exhausted all of a sudden. The world spins whenever I turn my head.
Oh shoot, have I been drugged?
I attempt to sit up, my hands pressing against the firm muscles of his chest to brace myself, but his arms tighten around my body. His hold doesn’t feel restrictive, but more supportive.
He swallows heavily, his bobbing Adam’s apple catching my attention.
“Yes,” he replies, “that’s what I am: super.”
Our faces are so close that it would take no effort for him to lean in and kiss me. Do I want him to? It would be just a kiss, no emotions attached. After everything I’ve been through, I deserve that, right?
“But make no mistake, bravi, I am no hero.” He pulls away from me, his expression closing off. “The medical pod warned that you might be tired. I just hadn’t expected this reaction. Don’t worry, bravi, I will take care of you.”
I should panic. A part of my brain screams at me to do so, especially given my recent interactions with aliens. But I can’t blame him for how others have mistreated me. It isn’t his fault that some other alien abducted me.
Those strong arms could either protect me or crush me, I realize with a shiver. But looking into his dark eyes, I find myself desperately wanting to trust him. Since when did I become so jaded towards men? It’s not his fault that my ex kicked me to the curb, making me want to hate every guy I see.
