Page 19 of The Thren's Fated

“Lena,” he said, nodding his head. “How are you?”

How was she?

He’d practically drugged her with his alien pheromones, tried to convince her to come back to his ship, and he was acting like nothing strange had happened.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, vowing not to let him touch her with those tentacles, unsure that she’d be able to resist for a third time. “What can I get you?”

Screl smirked like he had a snarky response on the tips of his tongues, but responded simply.

“A Thren ale, please.”

Lena tapped in the order, then went to the other end of the bar, taking her time as she refilled Honur’s wine glass. The commander was being oddly polite, a thought which freaked her out more than his over the top advances.

Of course he is. You rejected him. He’s not interested in you anymore.

That was a good thing. Yes, a good thing. She wasn’t going to his ship, so why did it matter what he thought of her? Michaela hadn’t been working last night, and she was so beautiful and young, there was no way he would still have been interested, anyway.

The ding notified her that one of the barbacks had poured her a glass from the barrel in back, and she retrieved it from the window before setting it in front of Screl.

“I hear you’re good at negotiations,” she said, not quite sure why she was making conversation with him.

He laughed, the dark sound making her core clench as he looked her up and down.

“I always get what I want.”

“Is that so?” she asked, trying to act busy by cleaning the bar top for the umpteenth time, though it was already sparkling.

“It is.”

Lena glanced around the bar and caught the ardent gaze of the leader of the group of human privateers. He waved his hand lazily at her, and she rolled her eyes, but was thankful for the distraction.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, not even looking at Screl as she made her way from behind the bar.

Where had Michaela gone? She was conspicuously absent, though Zegrox was still parked in his usual corner, and she brushed off her skirt as she stepped up to the table.

“Can I get you all anything else?” she asked, but before she could even finish her question, a sharp pain zipped up her spine, the leader slapping her ass hard and gripping tight.

“I can think of something we’d like,” he said, dragging her forward.

Every muscle in her body was numb, so stiff she couldn’t seem to get any of them to cooperate as his other hand squeezed her bare thigh under her skirt. Her heart was pounding, and she felt like she’d forgotten how to breathe, no air making it to her lungs.

She couldn’t stop him, his thumb reaching up and grazing her panties as the entire table laughed.

A low growl—no, two low growls—interrupted his stroking, and she followed his horrified gaze to the males towering over them.

Zegrox and Screl.

The look of pure hatred etched on Screl’s face finally got her to move, and she shrugged out of the man’s grasp, taking a step toward the Thren commander.

“Out! NOW!” Zegrox bellowed at the table, the humans scrambling to leave as the bouncer followed closely behind.

Lena grabbed Screl’s arm, dragging him away from the scene as he reluctantly followed her. Her adrenaline was pumping, and though it wasn’t the first time some jackass had grabbed her ass, it was the first time at Ochin’s, and that broke her heart.

She didn’t know what she was doing, but felt comforted by Screl’s presence, pulling him through the crowd and into an empty alcove, a spot for a store or restaurant that hadn’t yet made its way to Henios.

“Why didn’t you let me take care of that male?” he growled, pressing his hands on either side of her head as he backed her up against the cool, chrome wall. “I know he did not have your permission.”

Lena’s breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled over her words, still shaken up by the incident.