“Remain sober,” T’saran added. “You may be needed.”
The door slid closed without an answer, and T’saran suspected that his order would be ignored. Perhaps that was for the best. Without S’kran, the commander would not be able to proceed with his tests.
Dismissing them both from his mind, he bent over his female and cupped her cheek in his hand. His hand encompassed her whole head, the dark grey of his skin a pleasing contrast to the pale tan of hers. He carefully retracted his claws, and stroked healing gel across the delicate skin.
“Do not fear, little female,” he whispered. “You are safe with me.”
As he proceeded to open her clothing, his shaft, already half erect merely from being so close to her, stiffened to a full erection, but he ignored it. Just as he brought the cleansing cloth to the wound, her eyes opened.
Chapter Three
Lauren swam back to consciousness slowly, first aware of the ache in her head, then the burning pain in her breast. Confused images flickered through her mind—those horrible men waylaying her and the monster coming to her rescue. Monster?
Her eyes flew open as the memory of the massive horned figure with burning eyes flashed through her memory. Her breath caught when she found him hovering her, looking just as she remembered. Now she was close enough to see that the purple in his eyes came from striations surrounding cat-like pupils set in a face too harsh and angular to be considered human. Her eyes flicked up to the massive black horns curling back from his forehead. Definitely not human.
She automatically started to scramble backwards, but he stilled her with one giant hand—one giant three-fingered hand. She tensed automatically, but he wasn’t hurting her, and she didn’t see the claws she thought she’d remembered. The warmth of his hand was oddly soothing, and she didn’t feel as afraid as she thought she should.
“Who are you?” She looked beyond him to grey metal walls, stacked with odd looking machines. “And where am I?”
He started speaking in the deep rumbling voice she remembered, but she couldn’t understand anything he said. Whatever language he was speaking didn’t sound like anything she’d ever heard before, and her fear started to resurface.
“I don’t understand.”
Thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, the action making his horns twitch. Despite the heavy, non-human bone structure, his features were similar enough to human that she could read his frustration. She tensed instinctively. In her experience, a frustrated man was likely to lash out.
Instead, he took a deep breath.
“Safe,” he said carefully.
Why did she want to believe him, just as she had when he came to her rescue in the alley? She knew better.
“Where am I?” she repeated.
He considered for a moment.
“Ship.”
“Ship? What kind of ship?” She looked around again at the metal walls, the machines she didn’t recognize, and her heart started to thump. Adding the unfamiliar technology to his inhuman appearance led her to one unbelievable conclusion.
“Do you mean a spaceship?” Her voice sounded thin in her own ears.
“Yes.” He nodded, horns bobbing, and her head started to spin. He seemed to realize what was happening and his other hand came up to cup her cheek with exquisite tenderness.
“Safe,” he repeated.
Somehow, she didn’t find the thought of being on an alien spaceship reassuring, but she bit her lip and nodded. His eyes tracked the movement and she saw a flare of heat. Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t stood a chance against two human men and this alien had defeated them easily. No weapon was visible but considering the breadth of his shoulders and the heavy muscles revealed by a sleeveless black uniform, she doubted he would need one.
Instead of pawing at her, his thumb stroked her cheek gently. “Safe.”
She almost gave in to a surprising urge to nestle her face against his palm, but then he removed his hand and picked up a cloth. When his focus shifted, she suddenly realized that her coat was open, exposing her ripped uniform and most of her naked breasts.
“No!” She panicked, trying to clutch the torn material together. The movement made the fiery pain in her breast flare up.
He broke out in another torrent of the harsh unfamiliar language, before he stopped and sighed. Raising a hand to his wrist device, he started tapping with what were undeniably claws. She knew he hadn’t had those earlier. Had her head injury affected her more than she realized?
“Heal,” he said finally. “Wound. Tit.”
The word sounded shockingly coarse in his deep accented voice, but something about it also made her body respond. Her nipples tightened into tight little peaks, tingling and aching simultaneously. She saw him notice, saw his eyes heat, and she braced herself, but he made no move towards her, simply waiting patiently.
“Wound. Tit. Heal,” he repeated. He raised one hand to show her the cloth and the other to reveal a tube of some kind of liquid. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been concerned about her injuries. Even if it was just a ploy to paw at her, he was still being more considerate about it than her ex-husband had ever been.
In the end, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Yes,” she added when he looked confused.
“Good.”
He bent over her, his horns right in front of her face and she clenched her fists, preparing for the pain. Instead, he very gently washed away the blood clotting at the edges of the wound while she studied his horns in an attempt to distract herself from that alien face so close to her breasts. The horns were thick and dark, with a rough surface and a spiraling ridge up each one. Despite their vicious appearance, she had an unexpected urge to touch one. Before she could work up the courage,
