Freed By the Alien Prince by Tori Kellett

Chapter Three

Sascha woke in the same foul mood as the night before. She’d managed to avoid the rest of the Assembly, immediately regretting that she’d lost her temper. What was she even doing? She huffed. Mooning after a teenager was what she was doing. Although, to be fair, N’ameth was eighteen cycles, not eighteen years, but that still made her six years older than him. She couldn’t get the word eighteen out of her head though. It didn’t help that he was gorgeous—well, as far as seven-feet-tall, silver-gray aliens went anyway. Even his muscles had muscles. And those eyes, the deepest turquoise she had ever seen. And he made her feel small. In the right light, you might even say petite. She tried not to snort.

That kiss though.She’d known him the moment she’d first seen him after waking up in the tent when they’d gotten off the cruiser. His voice had been instantly recognizable. That smooth, seductive tone had made her think about things she probably shouldn’t. Things that probably weren’t even allowed. She’d recalled their ridiculous conversation about book boyfriends when she’d been on his cruiser, and she’d worked out that he assumed she didn’t remember their kiss. Sascha put her fingers to her lips. She’d felt his kiss right down to her toes, but once they’d landed, he hadn’t come near her.

He probably thought she was too old for him.

Cougar, much?

And she’d found out from Julien, his co-pilot, that the sedatives hadn’t worked on her properly. She’d always been the sort of person who had a high tolerance to drugs. The prince had been frightened she would panic and hurt herself, so he had sat with her. When Julien had also told her that he was flying the cruiser and Cezar was tending to the others, he had made it sound like N’ameth had been with her because there was simply no one else who could be spared. At that, the small flame of something inside her had flickered and died. N’ameth hadn’t wanted to stay with her, he had just felt responsible for her.

Then Lexie had done nothing but talk about him every minute of what seemed like every damn day, and Sascha was the first to admit they would make a beautiful couple. Lexie was sweet and kind, startlingly beautiful with big blue eyes and a willowy body. And what was she like? Short and curvy you might call her on a good day, with hair that was showing the grays because this stupid planet didn’t have anything to dye it with.

So Sascha had tried to avoid him because she was convinced she would blurt out something, like asking for another kiss, or even to forgo the kiss and get straight to the main event. She knew N’ameth would be just the sort of controlling asshole she had spent every waking moment of her adult life trying to avoid. And he was a prince. If that didn’t send red flags waving dominance, she didn’t know what did.

“You need to protect me from the monsters.”

They’d sedated her on the cruiser the same as the others, but it had just had the effect of about five margaritas, and she’d happily told him her requirements for the perfect man and called him her book boyfriend. She wanted to cringe.

But then, if he was her book boyfriend, he wouldn’t care that he had the body of a god and she didn’t. He would kiss every inch of her skin and make her beg for more. Not that he would have to beg. Sascha blew out a frustrated breath and groaned silently. What she wouldn’t give for some privacy and what she had hidden in the bottom drawer of her nightstand back in Mountain Edge.

She’d gotten to the grand old age of twenty-four before discovering that sex wasn’t just lying on her back with the lights turned off, and even then, it had been when she had bought an e-reader so that no one knew what she read. Not that her lack of knowledge had been Edward’s fault, he had been fighting his own battles. By the time she trusted him enough to let her guard down, he had gotten sick. The start of a gut-wrenching seven years. Although, Edward had been more her best friend than her lover. Maybe if they had decided to try for a baby before he had gotten sick, she would have felt differently, but it had been Edward himself who had insisted there was no rush, and they certainly hadn’t had the money for babies then. She’d even been thinking of using the sperm he had banked before he started chemo. Thirty-three was considered oldish for a first pregnancy. She’d been going to wait until she got the promotion she was sure was hers when she had been side-lined instead. So she’d put it off, not even sure if she was doing the right thing. And now she had another chance, but not in the way she hoped. She couldn’t allow someone else to have complete control of her ever again. She’d grown up with that, so picking Edward had been safe. She’d cared for Edward, but one look from him hadn’t ever made her want to rip her panties off. Or even dispense with them altogether.

Unlike a certain someone.

She quickly took off her silks and swapped them for some loose pants that most of the women wore and a small tank top. She would have to be careful because now that they were in the Dry, the temperatures rose to over a hundred degrees every day, and they didn’t have such a thing as sunscreen. She pulled on a thin, loose tunic all the females wore to shield her skin and wished she could wear shorts. Her legs weren’t bad, but her love handles definitely needed hiding. She snorted quietly to herself.

With a quick smile to the others, she let herself out of their rooms, pretending not to hear Madison when she asked where she was going, and headed for the gardens. Unfortunately, Lexie ran after her.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

Lexie scrunched up her face. “But it’s hot.”

Sascha just nodded and kept going. She grew up working in the heat. Backbreaking, boring hours. Her only solace had been the animals. Not that they had been allowed in the house. The working dogs couldn’t be treated like pets—at least when her father was looking—and Star wouldn’t fit. She paused and smiled. It had been years since she had thought about that horse. He’d been twenty-three when he died and worked right up to the end. She’d adored him. The number of times she’d snuck out to give him carrots, and despite not being technically broken for riding, he’d carried her around the farm in the dead of night when no one could see and punish them both. She’d learned to ride bareback on that horse. She had no idea if she could even ride with a saddle because when Star had died, she’d left the same summer and had never been interested in another horse.

The gardens weren’t quite so pretty now as they had been when they’d arrived. Callie and Zak had stopped watering any but the small walled garden they grew the gava bushes in, but it had been the right thing to do.

She smiled at two of the guards, and they both greeted her politely as she walked down the steps. They were all used to her going outside, and walking was preferable to listening to Lexie—plus, if she was honest, she was bored.

She liked Callie. She was funny and generous and had stepped up, but apart from Rachel, who seemed to be turning into Xena, Warrior Princess, none of the other women seemed to have found their place in Ishtaan society. Sascha wanted to help. She had skills. She didn’t know how to translate those skills into something she could do here, but she wasn’t about to just hang around waiting to be some sort of baby-making machine. She was a preschool teacher, and she’d come to a planet with barely any children. If that wasn’t the definition of ironic, she didn’t know what was.

Glancing at the small cactus-like bushes at the side of the road, she paused in astonishment at what they reminded her of. She bent carefully, not touching because she’d seen one too many alien movies with poisonous flesh-eating plants—she read a lot of books as well, so sue her—and detected the faint onion smell coming from the yellow sap. She knew she hadn’t seen them until the surrounding vegetation died off in the Dry. Before she had the chance to get excited, she heard voices. Recognizing N’ameth’s, she quickly changed direction and headed toward the main gates. They weren’t supposed to go out of them alone, but there was no way she was running into him. Luckily they couldn’t spare warriors to guard the gates anymore, so no one saw her leave. Not that she was going far. It was too hot, and she wasn’t an idiot. She walked quickly to the edge of the trees to get out of the sun’s glare for a moment so he could pass, then she’d go back.

A small cry that sounded suspiciously like a kitten made her glance back into the trees. She took a curious step closer, then gasped in surprise as she spotted a small fur-baby crying and seeming lost. She wasn’t sure what it was, maybe a bear cub of some kind, and she nervously raised her eyes looking for mom. It cried piteously again and stumbled toward her. Sascha’s heart melted, and she ached to pet it, but she knew better than to put her scent onto a baby. What she should do was walk away.

“Sascha.”

Sascha glanced behind her at N’ameth’s quiet voice and saw him standing behind her. How had he gotten there so fast? “I want you to walk very slowly to the gates and get to the guards.” She shivered. His voice sounded strained, and he held a blaster tightly in his hands. She looked nervously toward the baby as it cried again, loudly, and took a step back.

A sudden tremendous roar was accompanied by breaking branches and bushes as something very large started crashing through them made her heart feel like it was trying to escape her chest.

“Run,” N’ameth bellowed and rushed forward, clearly intending on getting to whatever was on its way before it got them. Sascha ran. She wasn’t exactly nimble, but fear made her legs pump. Unfortunately, the second roar accompanied by the whine and crack of the blaster made her turn and glance over her shoulder, and that was when she knew she would never be fast enough. She was helpless not to look. Real terror seized her lungs as the huge bear thing charged for her despite N’ameth’s blaster repeatedly hitting its mark. Somehow, N’ameth lunged to put himself between her and the bear. Blood arced in a spray when vicious claws swiped over N’ameth’s chest. The blaster went flying out of his hand.

“Run!” N’ameth yelled again as the beast opened its jaws and went for his throat. But Sascha had no intention of running. She could hear the shouts of the guards, but they wouldn’t get there in time. N’ameth’s struggles were getting more desperate, and just as the beast threw its head back and roared its assumed victory, her fingers closed around the blaster. She lifted it, aimed, and fired. Her second shot hit right between its eyes, just as the guards got to them.

It was pandemonium. The beast fell dead on top of N’ameth, and it took both guards to drag it off of him. Sascha scrambled over, heart in her mouth. Blood. There was so much blood. She quickly pulled her tunic over her head and pressed the material to the wound across N’ameth’s chest and met his eyes. Still open but dark with pain. “You should have run,” he whispered, then both his eyes rolled up and he passed out.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Sascha yelled at him as more warriors arrived and took over. Then suddenly, she was in the way and had to scramble back. Heart pounding, she watched as two warriors appeared on a hell-cat, and they quickly loaded N’ameth on it, one bending to secure him on the platform where they normally stood.

Zak and Voren came running a moment later, just as N’ameth was flown to the palace. Zak quickly turned and followed his brother. Sascha put a hand across her mouth, frightened of the noises she might make. Her throat was tight and her eyes stung. Shaking, she carefully put the blaster on the ground next to her. The movement caught Voren’s eye.

He bent and raked his eyes over her. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Voren’s face softened, and he held out a hand. “Let’s get you to the healing area.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t hold in the cry as she stood and put weight on her ankle. Much to her embarrassment, Voren effortlessly swung her up into his arms. She clamped her lips closed.

“What happened?” Voren strode quickly to the palace, carrying her. She wanted to die.

“It was a cub.”

“Veerlash,” Voren confirmed. “She must have been starving to come so close to the palace in the Dry. They normally stick to the foothills, but then a cub born in the Dry is also unusual and may be the reason she did so.”

“What about the cub?”

“They are not pets to be domesticated, Sascha.” He sounded stiff and disapproving.

“I didn’t touch it. I’m—” Not so stupid.Irresponsible.Take your pick. N’ameth was seriously hurt because of her, whichever way you spun it. “Will he be okay?” Which was what she really wanted to ask.

“Ishtaans are very hard to kill,” Voren said grimly. Not an answer, and Sascha fell silent, guilt making her want to disappear. He walked into the healing ward, and Sascha’s breath caught. Prince Azlaan and two warriors were swarming around N’ameth, who had been transferred to some sort of medical bed that had a holo screen above it with all sorts of numbers she didn’t really understand. Zak stood with his arms folded, gazing on grimly but staying out of their way. Azlaan was barking out orders and both the guards were running to get him what he wanted. It seemed odd to Sascha that Azlaan didn’t seem to have any other help, but she stayed quiet, hardly daring to breathe, convinced if she made any noise, she would be made to leave. She sat huddled on the bed that Voren had deposited her on and just watched.

Which was strange and unsettling. She was used to doing.

Azlaan finished wrapping N’ameth’s chest in heavy bandages and stood back, watching the monitor. He glanced at Zak. “He’s damn lucky. An inch lower and he would have bled out. The plate will reattach itself.”

Zak relaxed visibly, and Sascha lowered her gaze, closing her eyes. Relief made her shaky.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Her eyes flew open and met Zak’s stormy blue ones. Zak had obviously spotted her and almost absently she noted that he looked good and angry. With me. “There was a cub.”

“And you touched it?” He interrupted incredulously.

“No, I—”

“And what were you doing out of the gates? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? Well, let’s hope you do now,” he carried on without waiting for a response. “The gates are there for your protection,” he thundered and gestured to his brother. “If N’ameth hadn’t been there, you would have been ripped to shreds.”

“My king,” Voren said hesitantly, but Zak took no notice, just turned to Azlaan.

“Keep me informed.” And without a backward glance, he strode out.

Sascha wasn’t going to cry. She hadn’t done that since she was around seven and found out it led to harsher punishments. But after making a complete fool of herself, she just wanted to vanish, her normal armor disappearing like so much smoke. Voren went over to Azlaan and asked about something else. Sascha glanced down at her ankle. It was swelling, but it didn’t hurt as much, and she reckoned she could probably walk on it, at least to get her back to her room. She glanced toward the warriors, but they weren’t looking, so she edged to the bed, sliding down to test her weight, and decided it didn’t throb too bad. She started inching toward the door but heard a sigh and looked up to see Azlaan.

“It needs wrapping,” he said evenly and held out an arm so she could use his help to shuffle back. At least he was more successful in hiding his condemnation.

“I’m okay.” She glanced over at N’ameth but couldn’t see him for Voren.

“Yes, you are.” The unspoken “who wasn’t” made her squirm. It was like being a child all over again. Everything was her fault. Sascha tried again to see N’ameth, but Voren was still blocking her view.

“He’ll recover,” Azlaan reassured her. “One of his plates ripped away, and the Veerlash’s claws cut deep.”

“Did you have to stitch it?”

Azlaan looked confused a moment, and then his translator obviously worked. “No, we wouldn’t be able to get anything to pierce the plates. It would take laser technology, which we don’t have. If we keep them tightly wrapped, they’ll heal on their own.” Sascha nodded as relief rushed through her. She tried not to wince as Azlaan pressed various points on her ankle. “It’s just lightly sprained.” His voice was even, but Sascha could still hear the unspoken criticism. “It will be healed by tomorrow with the salve I use.”

“Sascha?” Voren called her. “Prince N’ameth is awake and wants to see you.”

Azlaan scowled and strode over. “Stubborn fool. You need to—”

She didn’t hear what else Azlaan said because he lowered his voice, but she heard him hiss. “She shouldn’t have even—what in all gods?” Azlaan’s voice rose as N’ameth tried to sit up, but Sascha had heard enough. She sat up, wincing as she slid to the floor. It hurt, but she wasn’t going to let N’ameth damage himself further. She bit her lip to stop from crying out, brushed off Voren as he reached for her, and hobbled to the other bed.

N’ameth smiled when he saw her, but she could see the strain tightening his eyes and hear the short, shallow breaths. “He’s in pain.” She turned a worried look to Azlaan as she leaned against the bed.

“So are you,” N’ameth croaked and shot his brother a glare. It might have worked if sweat wasn’t dotting his brow.

Voren brought a chair over and helped Sascha sit down. She leaned closer and picked up N’ameth’s hand. His fingers immediately tightened around hers. “I owe you my thanks.”

Sascha shook her head. “It was my fault.” N’ameth looked in apparent awe at their joined hands, and Sascha ignored the instinct to pull hers away.

“You are not a prisoner, and the Veerlash never come this close. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

She didn’t look at either Voren or Azlaan, but she felt them still. “Home,” she admitted. “Dad had a farm.” And it had been a prison. When she realized what they had planned for her, Edward had been her one chance at freedom. She’d been sixteen.

“You saved my life,” N’ameth said and looked deliberately at the other two Ishtaans. “The Veerlash’s hide is too thick to penetrate except in certain places and I had been unsuccessful.”

“You wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for me,” she said, and much to her embarrassment, her eyes filled.

“N’ameth, you need healing sleep,” Azlaan said. He looked at Sascha. “He’s refusing to rest.”

Sascha reached out with her other hand and brushed N’ameth’s hair away from his face. “And why’s that?”

He gazed at her. “Because I’m already asleep and dreaming.” Her own words whispered back to her made her smile; even after two months, she would never forget their time on the shuttle.

“And because all the best book boyfriends appear in them?”

His eyes widened, and her heart squeezed. She had fallen for him even then. “You remember?”

Sascha nodded. “But I know you were just keeping me calm. It’s okay.” She watched as Azlaan surreptitiously added something to the bag of fluid that was draining into—she presumed—one of N’ameth’s veins.

“If you were truly my book girlfriend—” N’ameth blinked slowly, “—you would kiss me and keep the monsters away.”

Her heart thudded almost painfully. It was what she had said all those weeks ago. She leaned forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the gorgeous lips she had dreamed of for two months.

“Stay?” He tightened his fingers on hers, and she nodded.

“I’ll be here when you wake. Rest.”

He blinked once more, but she could tell it took great effort to open his eyes, so she leaned forward again and pressed kisses to them until they remained closed. Exactly the same as she was sure he had done to her.

I am in so much trouble.