WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series Alana Khan (i like reading TXT) 📖

The women on the ship have been in space longer than me and have found some decent tools for doing hair and makeup. I’ve curled the ends of my hair and styled it to frame my face. My makeup is on and my eyes look pretty.

I sway in front of the mirror, making the dress Savannah loaned me float around my thighs. If I’d gone to the best stores in Houston I couldn’t have found a dress more flattering than this. She called it a scarf dress. The fabric is a rainbow of colors and the hem has varying lengths. It moves gracefully, pulling the observer’s eye to the nip at my waist and the tempting swell of my hips.

I read a book about setting your intentions for something. It was a New Agey thing that proposed that if you set an intention you were more likely to get what you want. It makes sense. You can’t get anything if you don’t acknowledge your desires and then go after them.

I drop onto the edge of the bed and consider what it is I want, but I don’t have to think for long. I want Bayne. It’s not just that he’s handsome, which is certainly true. He’s not just gorgeous, he’s sexy. I’ve brought myself pleasure thinking about him several times since I watched him spar in the ludus and realized denying my attraction was futile.

I also admire him. He’s taken a shitty situation, worse even than mine, and has swiftly come to terms with it. He’s trying to learn everything he can and make a new life for himself.

I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex with him, but I’m definitely ready to get to know him.

So my intention for tonight? I want to talk to him, and dance with him. I want to express my interest. I nod my head at myself, still looking into the mirror. I won’t let tonight end without Bayne knowing I don’t want him banished from my life anymore. I want him to know I’d like . . . more.

When I leave my room and enter the hallway, I realize Bayne might not even be there tonight. What will I do if that happens? Well, I’ve clearly set my intentions, so I guess I’ll just have to knock on his door.

Bayne

As I stride to my room I’m full of purpose. I’m a Skylosian, a warrior—a strong male who knows what he wants. I just need to make it happen. I’ll no longer be content to watch Willa from afar. I’m going to woo her.

When I arrive in my room and remove the broadsword from my back scabbard, I happen to see a flash of my movement out of the corner of my eye. I catch a glimpse of myself—huge, muscled adult male, arms bent in the act of pulling the weapon above his head, a serious, almost fierce look on his face.

My world slows down and time stops spinning.

I’ve been on the Intergalactic Database using my burgeoning reading skills to glean what I can about my homeworld, Skylose. Nothing important has come from all my attempts to trigger memories of my past. But this one glimpse of a ferocious male in the mirror has sliced through the darkness. My past tumbles back to me.

My village was remote. Not all Skylosians were shifters. My pack didn’t flaunt our abilities because those who couldn’t shift would be envious or hate us. We kept to ourselves and moved farther into the wilderness each year to avoid confrontation.

Now that I’ve seen other planets and ridden on spaceships, I realize how primitive my planet was. We were warring factions—tribes, really.

I hadn’t reached my twentieth birthday the day the marauders came. I had been in the forest with my bow and arrow, hunting little mammals for food. I heard the thunder of hooves as our enemies came, riding six-leggeds.

My tribe, my pack, numbered in the hundreds, including females and younglings. The males on steeds were at least that many, and they had metal swords and the element of surprise, having killed our sentries before the frontal attack.

They surrounded the village, tossed flaming torches at our huts and longhouses, and killed many of our males.

Clutching my weapon, I ran toward the melee to fight. I considered shifting into my canine form but feared they’d kill us all if I revealed the tribe’s secret.

I killed a few with my bow and arrows until my quiver was empty, then ran screaming into the fight with nothing but my young fists. By this time, the village was in flames, most of our adult males were dead or dying on the ground, and many of the marauders were taking their fill of our females.

The few males who were left alive were rounded up and held at the point of a sword. I’ll never forget the sound their derisive laughter made when they grabbed me and forced me into the shrunken group of my tribesmen.

I remember the bitter taste of my anger which changed to horror as I helplessly watched them violate my mother. My canine growled in unbridled fury, straining to be released. I kept him tightly leashed inside me, believing that if our secret was revealed we would all be killed. My uncle and another male held me back as I screamed in impotent rage.

“Hush,” Uncle Tresor said, trying to calm my canine and me. “The only thing you can do now is stay alive. Stay alive by any means possible and live to exact revenge. It’s what you’ve been saved for.”

No matter how tightly I squeeze my eyes closed, I can’t erase the picture that bombards me. I hear the screams, see the village burning and six-leggeds pawing at the ground. The acrid smell of fire and the tang of the blood is as caustic this moment as