Page 10 of Taken By the Alien Killer
“Hey,” she says, ducking past a frazzled footman holding a tray of candied meat ribbons. “What if we fake a fuel leak? Just a little one. Shuttle malfunctions right as it’s docking. No one gets hurt, but he gets stranded in orbit for... oh, I dunno, forever?”
I smirk despite myself. “Tempting.”
She leans in, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I could reroute the secondary intake valves. Make it look like a coolant bubble hit the pressure regulator. Real spacey technical shit. You know. Tragic accident.”
I snort and wave her off. “He’s not the enemy, Cyn. He’s just… a stranger.”
And that, right there, is the worst part. I don’t even know him. Not really. Kaspian Feldspar. Twenty-five, well-bred, gallant, raised on some marble-drenched mountain estate where people probably say “harrumph” without irony. I’ve read his file. Seen the vid portraits. He’s handsome in a generically noble kind of way. All angles and politeness.
But I’ve never heard him laugh. Never watched his eyes light up when I make a bad joke. Never played chess with him until dawn, both of us drunk on spiced fruit wine and sarcasm.
He doesn’t know me. Not the real me.
And I don’t want to marry a stranger.
Still, I let the dressers cinch me into the formal Akuran gown—dark green silk with metallic thread that catches the light like falling stars. The bodice is tight, cruel even, designed to make me stand taller, look more regal. I hate how it fits. Like armor, but the kind that doesn’t protect anything.
Outside, the landing platform gleams beneath the afternoon sun. I stand at the center of my family—Mom radiant and regal,Dad with his easy, booming grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes today. CynJyn is conspicuously absent, no doubt hiding behind a pylon somewhere with a half-eaten data pad snack and her smug anti-establishment smirk.
Then there’s Rayek.
Behind me. Close enough that I can feel the heat of his body even through the layers of silk and air. He doesn’t speak. He never does at times like this. But I know he’s watching. Not the ship. Not the guests. Me.
I want to turn. Just glance at him. Something small. But I can’t.
Because if I turn around, I might see something in his face I’m not allowed to want.
Or worse—I might see nothing at all.
The noble cruiser lands with a theatrical hiss of steam and a chorus of hydraulics. The docking platform vibrates beneath my heels, a soft, subtle tremor that sets my nerves jittering. For a second, I consider bolting. Just turning on my heel, grabbing CynJyn, and making a run for the stables like a feral child. But then the ramp lowers, and I square my shoulders.
Here we go.
Kaspian Feldspar emerges like he’s stepping out of a dream—or maybe one of those over-staged recruitment holos. Tall. Composed. Dressed in midnight-blue diplomatic garb lined with silver trim. His hair is neat, eyes bright, chin proud. He looks every bit the noble heir he’s supposed to be.
But when his gaze meets mine, his smile flickers.
Not much. Just a stutter at the corners of his mouth, like maybe his stomach’s doing backflips too. He masks it fast, tacking on a polite, respectful grin as he descends the ramp and greets my father with a firm, measured handshake. They trade words I don’t catch. All I hear is the wind picking up through the nearby trees and the wild drumming of my pulse in my ears.
“Lady Star,” Kaspian says as he finally turns to me, bowing just enough to acknowledge my status without groveling. “It’s an honor.”
“Kaspian,” I reply, dipping into a half-curtsy that feels like it belongs to someone else. “I thought you got taller.”
His mouth twitches—an almost-smile, then fully formed, laced with something like humor. “I left the stilts on the ship.”
It’s so unexpected, I let out an honest laugh. Not one of those courtly titters, but a real, involuntary burst. And gods, that’s somehow worse than if he’d shown up arrogant or insufferable. He’s charming. Nervous, maybe. A little too practiced, but there’s sincerity there. I was prepared to loathe him.
But what the hell do I do with... not awful?
The introductions go on. My mom says all the right things, positively glowing with pleased energy. My dad cracks some joke about hunting holo-boars and proposes a welcome feast. Kaspian, ever the diplomat, agrees with all the grace you’d expect from someone raised in a castle with fifty servants and a formal etiquette instructor.
Meanwhile, Rayek stands just behind me—silent, immovable, and scalding.
I can feel him. Not just his presence, but the weight of it. Like gravity. Like heat off a reactor core. His gaze doesn’t touch me, but I know it’s there, hovering just shy of my skin, burning a line across my spine.
I try to turn—just a glance, a flick of acknowledgment—but his head shifts, just slightly, and I see it. That blankness. He’s switched himself off. Walled up behind duty and silence and those unreadable gold eyes.
He doesn’t see me.
