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

the ship. Humans aren’t illegal there. Perhaps once we get our shit together we could be a beacon of hope for not just humans, but any who escape their cruel masters. I’d like to call our new home Sanctuary.”

A little thrill zings through me as I imagine what it would feel like if I hadn’t been rescued. If I had been a slave on some planet with an awful master and one day someone whispered the word ‘sanctuary’ to me. It would be like a secret hope I could nurture in my heart. It would have given me the will to survive, the desire to live.

“I love the name,” I say loudly. It’s my first comment of the day, but I repeat it, “I love it.”

While everyone is agreeing, Beast interrupts to say, “We’ve got our work cut out for us. We want the newcomers to have the best start possible. We’re not leaving this sector until the compound is clean and functional.”

“If I’d known this was going to happen,” Stryker announces loudly, “I wouldn’t have painted every wall in every room with my enemy’s arterial spray.”

Gross as that is, I find it hilarious. So does everyone else.

~.~

“How come we’re the lucky ones assigned to this room?” I ask as I look around Daneur Khour’s bedroom—or what’s left of it.

“You saw yourself that they pulled names out of a kitchen pot.”

“I still wonder if they rigged it somehow,” I grouse.

“Consider yourself lucky that a few of the gladiators volunteered to remove all the bodies first.”

“Right. Glass half full.”

He cocks his head with a quizzical look.

“There’s always something to be thankful for,” I amend.

Although there are no dead bodies in this room, there's a lot of blood. From where the wooden wall was sprayed with laser fire, there are enough shards to build a life-sized model of the empire state building.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” I say, even though I know Bayne won’t understand a word of it. This is our fourth day on Fairea and all we’ve done is clean up the mess from the attack. My arms ache and I’m sick of the sight—and smell—of blood.

“We’re making progress,” Bayne says without complaint.

“I know, but when we hovered past the Fair area I thought it would be fun to attend. All we’ve been doing is working.”

He says nothing, just keeps shoveling wood chips into trash bags, but I suddenly listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I’m complaining about a little cleanup work when the males I care about almost lost their lives here? I clamp my whiney little lips together and redouble my efforts.

“I like everyone on the Fool’s Errand,” Bayne says abruptly. He’s not a big talker, so I have a feeling something important is coming. “Same with the Devil’s Playground.”

“Me, too.”

“But I’m thinking we have an opportunity we should consider. All the new people will be staying on Fairea, and I’m wondering if we should stay, too.”

I shove the last of Daneur Khour’s clothes into a trash bag and turn to look at Bayne.

“I think I would like it here. We could make a home for ourselves. WarDog could run and play. I could hunt. We could create . . . a family here. It wouldn’t work as well on a ship; that would be hard for canines.” His gaze pierces mine. He’s serious.

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” I hedge. Then I wonder why this hasn’t already occurred to me. I’m a farm girl—born and bred. I like to tend herds of animals and gardens. There was nothing—not one job—that was a fit for me on the Fool.

And WarDog. Of course, the big lug would do better gamboling in a forest than traipsing the metal corridors of a ship.

Bayne must think I hate the idea, because he presses on. “We don’t know any of these people, but we will. We didn’t know anyone on the Fool's Errand or the Devil’s Playground a few lunars ago either. This will give us both a fresh start.” He looks at me, his golden eyes alight with passion.

My mind bounces back to one word he used—family.

“Create a family, Bayne? We’ve never talked about it.”

His jaw slackens and his face falls. “You don’t want babes?” he asks, incredulous and sad. His gaze flicks back and forth across my face as if he’s trying to discover if perhaps he read me wrong.

“Yes, I want babes. I want happy babes and mischievous toddlers and sullen teens. I want it all. And I want pets, and herds of animals that would be right at home in all those barns and fields, and corrals out there.

“And I want you, Bayne.” I add softly, “You promised me a mating ceremony.” I want to press my palm to his beautiful cheek, but don’t want to sully him with a hand that just touched something belonging to Daneur Khour.

“Yes, Love. It just seemed you were so tired every night from cleaning up the compound.”

I pout, wondering if he’ll laugh at my hurt feelings, but he takes me seriously. “Tonight,” he promises. “No matter how tired we might be, we’ll mate tonight.”

He steps over a pile of pillows, gently lifts my chin with one finger, and leans to kiss me.

“Yes, Love, tonight.” Happiness bolts through me.

~.~

“So this big mating ceremony we’ve been putting off, it involves no other people?”

“No.”

“No officiant?”

“No.”

“But we’ll be taking off our clothes?” I lift one eyebrow and notice funny feelings swirling in my tummy, and below. We’re kind of joking, but it also feels like foreplay.

“No clothes will be worn during this ceremony,” he nods seriously.

“In your culture it’s the sex that binds you? But we’ve already had sex.”

He takes a deep breath.