He smiled and shook his head. It was a nice smile with even white teeth. At least they didn't look razor-sharp from what she could tell. Another alien entered the cell and handed the Supreme Leader a small device with two prongs on the end, and then left.
The handsome alien looked stern. "Now hold still."
Sylvie's eyes widened as the hand cupping her face tightened. Panic shot through her like wildfire.
"Let me go!" she shouted, attempting to shake loose from his grip.
"Stop!" His voice was commanding, and for a second she froze. It was all the time he needed to place the device into her nostrils and activate it.
A cold mist shot up her nose and into her sinuses. She reeled backward, but he grabbed her before she could hit the cushion.
"Calm yourself," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You have the laughing sickness. Too much nitrous oxide in the atmosphere for you. It's becoming toxic."
Too much nitrous oxide. Laughing gas. No wonder.
"Th... thank you," she muttered, her head beginning to clear for the first time since she'd crashed on this crazy planet. "I wasn't myself for a moment."
"Indeed." The Supreme Ruler gave a subtle grin.
Before she could stop herself, she smiled back. Glancing down, she realized that he was still holding her. It felt good and almost comforting. Heat rushed up her throat and covered her cheeks as she glanced away from him, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t understand her reaction.
"I'm feeling better. You can let me go now."
Now it was his turn to laugh. It was a pleasant sound. He set her on her feet, and Sylvie craned her neck to meet his gaze. His dark pupils were surrounded by a bright glow, giving his eyes a certain hunger. Her eyes flicked away as if scalded, landing on his muscular chest. His skin had taken on a faint hint of mauve.Interesting.
She was distracted by the subtle hills and valleys of his musculature. He was lean but still extremely toned. Her gaze traveled from his defined pectorals, down the ripped abdomen and the little trail of dark tendrils thin as human hair but seeming somehow softer. And lower...
His body was truly magnificent. Maybe it was safer to focus on his face again.
Sylvie moved her gaze upward and focused at a point between his eyebrows, one of them lifted as if questioning her intent. She cleared her throat and tried hard to respond with her most studious tone.
"How did you know I had the laughing sickness? What exactly did you give me as a remedy?" The questions tumbled out. Her rational mind had been restored. "How did you know it would help? My physiology could be vastly different from yours. It could have killed me. And how are you even able to understand me? And--"
The Supreme Being held up a hand. "Silence. I'm the one who's going to ask the questions and you're going to answer them."
"But... Your Holiness... if you could just tell me how--"
He covered her mouth with his gigantic hand. Without thinking about it, she bit his palm.
He yanked his hand back and studied it, the corner of his mouth turning up.
"Apologies, Exalted One, but--" she started to apologize, but he cut her off.
"Enough with the names. I am Xivthar Rasveen, Supreme Regent of Zanthar. You are an Earthling female. Your ship somehow disabled the shield that protects our planet. You're going to tell me what you know."
Sylvie frowned. "Okay, Ximbar Ratsleen, Supreme Leader of Zindar, listen here--"
He put his hand around her neck, pressing his thumb against her lips to hold them together. "Xivthar Rasveen. And the planet is called Zanthar. We've had faster-than-light travel for centuries, and we've run across primitive civilizations like the one on Earth many times. While I admit you Earthlings may have a few rustic charms," his eyes slid down the front of her and back up again, "you pose no threat to us. Unless you've joined forces with our enemies."
Sylvie's cheeks grew red. "Primitive civilizations? Rustic charms? I expected better from a supreme leader."
"Regent," he growled, pressing a little harder into her neck. "I'm beginning to believe my scientists when they say you're not intelligent enough to converse meaningfully with."
Sylvie scowled. "Are these the same scientists who refused to act diplomatically when making first contact? The scientists who shot at my companion and gave me these burns?"
Sylvie held up her palms.
The regent let go of his grip on her neck to grab them and pull them up to his face. "What burns?"
