A Savage Bargain

By Zadie Fox

A human female discovered on an alien ship must convince her alien enforcer captor that she’s worthy of being a carnal Obedient before he disposes of her for stowing away... or captures her heart.

This steamy alien romance explores sensual power dynamics on the way to its happily ever after.

If you don’t enjoy the dark fun where snarky heroines meet their alien alphas, please do not read.

If you do enjoy that dark fun, then get your copy today!

18+

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zadie Fox Books
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781951192273

Book preview

Chapter One

Dumb motherfucker, I mumbled to myself as I raced from my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend’s truck. I may or may not have been talking about myself, for getting into this mess to begin with. I scanned the industrial park where we’d been idling—waiting for one of his smarmy criminal contacts—and darted toward the wide-open garage door of what looked like a warehouse. Mark’s engine roared and I knew he’d try to follow me in the truck.

Inside the building were rows of shipping containers. A glance over my shoulder confirmed what I’d feared. Mark had followed me. I ran further into the dusty space where the truck couldn’t follow. Shipping containers towered above and around me. The further I ran, deeper and deeper into the warehouse, the narrower my path became as I frantically tried to determine my next step.

Should I just continue running into the labyrinthian space, assuming eventually Mark wouldn’t follow? I didn’t think he’d ever give up; not when he mistakenly thought I’d stolen $10,000 from him.

Should I take a chance and hide in a container? In the movies, the heroine usually ended up in some weird-ass foreign country in those instances. It would be just my luck to end up in the middle of nowhere in some backwater place halfway across the world.

Should I⁠—

My wild musings cut off. A container beckoned from the far wall. I hustled past the forklift sitting beside it. The container door appeared slightly ajar. Another glance over my shoulder showed nobody else in sight. Why not? If Mark caught me, my 100-pound self wasn’t fighting off his 200 pounds. I’d take my chance with the unknown of the container.

I pulled the door open, wincing at its squeal. A quick spin confirmed the squeal didn’t alert anybody (Mark!) to my plan. Stepping into the darkness within, I fought off a frisson of anxiety. At least it didn’t smell. In fact, it seemed quite clean, almost antiseptic. A brief question of what was being stored in the container surfaced, and then I closed the door. At the sound of the heavy clank, I collapsed on the metal floor to wait. It wasn’t long before I heard a voice. His voice.

Where are you, you thieving bitch? Mark’s voice passed through the metal walls of the container.

I held my breath, though my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Dying of a heart attack would really suck, too.

I know you’re here. You fucking cunt.

Nice. What a shithead. That’s what I got for wasting six months of my life with someone who fancied himself a low-level gangster.

Come out, come out, wherever you are, he said in a singsong voice.

Like hell I would. He’d get bored and leave. That I knew with certainty. I only needed to wait him out.

What are you doing here?

I perked up at the sound of the new voice. Even straining, I couldn’t decipher the response. Mark was probably answering the new person. Did I risk coming out now? Would Mark try something with a stranger around?

A scraping sounded from under the container. My mind spun, trying to identify it. The forklift maybe. Oh my god. They were moving my container!

I stood to open the door and thought better of it. Mark was still out there. Confronting him with a stranger present sounded like a terrible idea. I sat down heavily, the movement of the container roiling my stomach. I needed to logically think this through. Our town wasn’t near a port, so, worst case, the container was being put on a truck or a train. It wasn’t likely to be a days’ long voyage. There hadn’t been a lock on the outside of the door that I saw. Whenever the container stopped moving again, I could simply pop the door open.

Easy-peasy.

Yeah, right.

But, decision made, I pushed myself against the container wall, recoiling from the cold before adapting.

Time passed and the container continued to move. First, steady movement of the forklift. Then, bumpy movement that might have been a truck traveling over roads. The brick in my stomach grew heavier and heavier, and I wondered if I would vomit. A check of my cellphone provided the relief of illumination and informed me that an hour had passed since I ran into the warehouse.

The next time the container seemed stationary, I’d leave. That moment came sooner rather than later. When I no longer felt the bumping of possible road, I swayed to my feet and felt for the door. I couldn’t tell what I was grabbing, so I used my cellphone flashlight.

Oh fuck.

There was no handle to open the door.

Panic consumed me and I pummeled my fists against the metal. Help! I’m inside. Can anyone hear me?

I yelled as loud and as long as I could, then leaned my ear against the door. Nothing. Maybe nobody was out there yet.

Time became a blur. The container seemed to move again, an almost weightless feeling. My heart dropped at an image in my head of the container being lifted in the air for placement on a boat. Maybe we’d gone to a port, after all.

I screamed myself hoarse, begging for someone to let me out. Salty tears leaked down my cheeks and my hands felt raw and bruised, matching my vocal cords. I slumped to