Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 55551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Me? I’m small. Soft. Curvy. And I live to break the rules.He captures me easily, but keeping me will be harder.With every escape attempt, my alien alpha gets even more primal.
He’s going to strip me of everything.My pride. My resistance. My purity.He’s going to make me submit to him.He’s going to make it as painful as it needs to be.And he’s going to make it so hot I melt for him.
I am his captive.And he is my new primal master.
Primal is a dark alien romance featuring captive themes. Mature readers only, please.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PRELUDE - THE CAGE
I’ve made rather a large mistake.
There is nothing between me and my alien master - nothing but cool bars which hold me deeply captive and feel like an absolute perversion.
He smiles down at me, his alien eyes gleaming with wolfish excitement at my unclothed and unfair predicament. He has no real need of this cage. He is much larger than I am. He is much stronger than I am. Every inch of his massive frame ripples with muscle covered by gleaming fire-red scales. In his presence, I am made smaller and softer than I have ever been in my life.
“Let me out,” I say, not knowing why I bother. He won’t let me out. The entire purpose was to put me in and keep me in. This is another one of the twisted lessons in reluctant submission that he so enjoys teaching me.
“You are mine, and this is how I choose to keep you,” he says. “You want to be a runaway? You want to be hard to catch, and even harder to keep? This is what happens. You end up confined.”
I squirm back and forth, feeling frustrated and perhaps just a little ashamed. A woman of my stature should never be behind bars. She should certainly not be behind them without a stitch of modesty.
“You could at least let me put some clothes on.”
His golden slitted eyes gleam with enjoyment, and the scaled skin around them creases with pleasure. He very much enjoys when I make these little requests - though he rarely indulges them, because I rarely deserve indulging.
“I could. But I like keeping you nude. I like seeing your softness. Your curves. And I like knowing you have to stay here waiting for me to return and to renew our mate bond.”
“Mate bond this,” I say, lifting a middle finger in a universal gesture.
Maybe I can taunt him into opening the cage by annoying him.
“That’s not going to work, Suli,” he smirks. “I know your tricks now. You’ll stay there until I release you. Be good for me.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Never.”
1 CRASH BANG, THANK YOU MA’AM
Not very long ago…
Sullivan
“I’m gonna crash! I’m gonna crash! I’m gonna…”
The sound of the crash drowns out my third loud prediction of crashing as I wrestle with the non-responsive controls of my shuttle as I leave orbit and crash through a brutally turbulent atmosphere. The outer shielding of the ship holds through the fiery bits, which is very good because it means I don’t burn up completely.
Unfortunately, that’s only the beginning of my problems.
Two minutes and twenty-two seconds later, I hit something hard. One of the hardest things you could ever hit, actually. A planet.
My commentary on the way down is muffled by the safety systems that deploy oxygenated foam all around me in a big ball. It takes so much of the impact that the fact I just fell through the atmosphere of an alien planet without any power other than gravity is barely more than an inconvenience to the structural integrity of my body.
I bounce. I bounce real high through the remnants of the wreckage of my shuttle, which disappears on impact. That’s kind of an illusion, of course. It’s really just that the fuselage and general structures of my ship were never made to impact a planet.
“Weeeeeee!”
I can hear myself screaming again, which is nice. A crashing ship is so much louder than you expect. It sounds like your own skull being shaken to pieces. The function of this crash system throws me clear of the wreckage, which means I land on the edge of the crater left by my ship, the chemical residues of the emergency system that saved my life harmlessly evaporating into what appears to be a mercifully breathable atmosphere.
This planet is called Saurmos. I know that because I was glancing briefly at the map before my shuttle’s controls decided to go completely haywire. This is classed as a primitive planet. That doesn’t mean there’s no tech at all. It means the tech is somewhere between the wheel and interstellar travel, which, right now, is more tech than I have. What’s left of my ship looks like a crumpled, burned-up tin can at the bottom of a pretty big hole.
I stand up and brush myself off from where a little of the foam is sticking to my suit. Most of it has evaporated into the atmosphere already. You’d think being encased in highly flammable gas during a crash would lead to a serious case of bursting into flames yourself, but you’d be wrong because science. I don’t pretend to understand it, but I know that it works because I’m currently alive, rather than being a faint smear in some alien dirt.
I check my pulse. It’s barely elevated. That’s good. Means I’m probably not damaged. That seems like a miracle, but miracles happen all the time. They happen about the same amount as disasters do. It’s like I always say. If you want miracles, have your life be a total fucking mess. You can’t experience miracles when things are going well. You barely notice them when you’re happy and safe at home. You’ve got to get out in the universe and smash some ships into planets to really appreciate how often things actually go unexpectedly okay. Of course, you might also just straight up die, but that’s the risk I’ve decided to take.