Read Online Heroic Abduction by Eve Langlais - Free Book Online

visitor find themselves with a laser blast to the gut or on board a ship drugged and en route to a slave auction.
    He could tell Betty hadn’t visited many rough places like this. She gave it away with the way she halted to stare at things that fascinated her—stones that pulsed and changed colors, fabric that undulated when stroked. She jerked at abrupt noises and flinched when other beings accidentally brushed past her.
    He got the feeling Zista had kept Betty pretty sheltered thus far during their travels. Which made how he’d found her all the more astonishing. It must have been some bet for the Zonian to have agreed to let Betty have herself tethered and willing to risk herself just for some treasure.
    The thoroughfare was a jumbled mess from open stalls hawking wares to teetering, corroded buildings to prefabricated pods piled on top of each other with ladders leading up to the ones not at ground level.
    He’d still not ascertained Betty’s objective when the first hint of trouble appeared. And, of course, it would be from a one-eyed Kharnqiop, who drooled, probably because its extra sensitive olfactory senses smelled a tasty dinner before him. It reached for his female.
    Time to put his plan in motion.
    Before Dyre could act, Betty jabbed her elbow back, right into the Kharnqiop’s abdomen, then whirled and smashed her fist into its one eye. It squealed and shuffled off, a victory for his human, and a surprise to Dyre.
    She’s not as weak as she appears. And apparently followed the mercenary code. Dangling a pouch she’d not had before, her lips curved in a satisfied smirk as she stuffed her plunder under her cloak. She didn’t linger. She moved away, re-adopting her meek persona, even going so far as flinching and squealing when a mini flight of Faoryes flitted past.
    She’s acting. The realization stunned him. Then amused. How his mother would love her. But was a thieving mate a proper one for a hero?
    Dyre began to question his decision as he continued to dog her steps. He’d always assumed he’d either die a lone hero doing good or find his princess, his good and morally-conscious princess. But Betty appeared to be anything but good.
    Several more times, aliens thought to accost her, falling for her seeming naiveté, and each time she prevailed and stole something new.
    If he’d not given up on the less-than-noble pursuit of illegal acquisitions, he would have admired her skill. As it was, he got more and more disgruntled as she kept extricating herself from situations, leaving him with no chance to save her.
    Morally bankrupt or not, he still wanted her. Still had to have her. Now if she would only stop removing herself from danger so he could rescue her. Blasted female is thwarting my perfect plan.
    A tap came on his shoulder. Dyre ignored it. He was currently engaged.
    Someone tapped again, more insistently. He rolled his shoulder to shrug off whoever thought to bother him. He also ignored the muttered, “Arrogant prick.”
    During the course of his heroic feats, he’d heard much worse, sometimes from the very people he saved.
    The third time the tap came, more of a pounding than a gentle nudge, he sighed and whirled, trusting Betty would remain out of trouble for a few moments—or, even better, not—while he took care of the irritation at his back.
    A shaggy behemoth glared at him. “You’re wearing Bretunian woven fur.”
    As a matter of fact he was, a rare and costly fabric that someone had gifted him in the form of a cloak. “I am.”
    “I’m Bretunian.”
    “How fascinating to see the origin of such a lush and silky fur. I quite admire the color of your coat. Have you ever shaved and sold it? You’d probably fetch quite a fortune.” Dyre dispensed a compliment and financial advice in one fell swoop. He waited for his thanks.
    Bulbous lips pulled back to display fangs. “Hunters kill and scalp my kind for the fur you’re wearing.”
    “Those bastards,” Dyre replied. “If I