He's come for me. The alien barbarian who wants to claim my heart and my child as his.
One minute I'm juggling my teaching job with single mom life. The next, I'm on a ship full of alien warriors, being flown light years away from Earth and everything I know.
Now Tharin, heir to the throne and the biggest, most brooding barbarian of them all, is blowing my mind by telling me he's the father of my daughter. But how's that possible when I don't remember the first time he abducted me ten years ago?
Tharin doesn't care that I don't remember though. He doesn't care I don't believe he fathered my child either. All he cares about is maintaining his line by having more children with me, no matter the cost. I willingly submitted to him once, he says, so surely I can again.
But how can this gorgeous, tortured alien expect me to commit to a future with him when I can't remember what drove us apart in the past?
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A giant form steps out of the shadows, casting dark shapes against the walls that seem to swirl in excitement in his presence. He takes another step into the center of the room, and I can hardly breathe. It’s him. He’s changed out of his golden armor and is wearing a loose tunic top spun from a fine gold material. Golden buttons lie open to reveal hints of a muscled chest, purples and reds swirling beneath bronze skin like ribbons. His tanned feet are bare now, pressed deep into the carpet of mists. The muscles of his legs are thick and defined beneath the leather material of his trousers.
It’s his face that astounds me the most though. High cheekbones are shrouded in soft golden stubble. He has a straight nose, heavy golden eyebrows, and long lashes framing those green eyes. His hair is like blond silk to his shoulders, the front swept back off his face in a plait. His skin fluctuates with the dark colors swirling beneath—pools of ink one moment and then sparks of purple the next. Standing this close, I notice there’s a deep wound on the flesh part of his palm that is still weeping blood. He is digging his thumb into it, over and over.
We stare at each other, and the space between us seems to flex and pulse. Around us, the walls fluctuate like bloody ribbons, and the mist on the nearby bed undulates and throbs purple, reflecting the uninvited sensations rushing inside my own body at the sight of him. I close my eyes, trying to control the heady sensations and the way my pulse seems to be throbbing right between my thighs.
“Open your eyes,” he commands in a voice that seems to thrum through me like the humming of the ship.