At six foot four and all muscle, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. His dark, slightly wavy hair brushed his shoulders and his silver-gray eyes glittered like moonlight rippling on water. Her heart rate accelerated at the sight of him. He would definitely be the star of any sexual fantasy. Her insides seemed to melt into a pool and her vagina tightened.
Good heavens, she had to get a grip on herself. This man had kidnapped her!
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Captain Tai Gaman. And you are Aria Jenkins.” He stretched out an arm. “Sit.”
She perched on the edge of the chair, keeping a wary gaze on him. He strolled to the couch and settled onto it, his masculine aura filling the room.
“I’m sure you’d like to know why we’ve brought you here.”
“Yes, please.” With her hands folded in her lap, and her tight, prim words, she must look like a schoolgirl summoned to the principal’s office. She noticed her hands trembling, so she clasped them tighter.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite.” Warmth emanated from his smile
Relax? Was he kidding?
She stared at him with wide eyes, waiting. He leaned forward slightly.
“There is a power in the universe that takes a hand in our lives – we call it nata’tai. It provides the means to keep us healthy – as individuals and as races. To stay healthy, a race must grow. It must embrace other cultures. It must open its gene pool to other races, otherwise it will stagnate. Physically, emotionally, and culturally.”
A shiver raced down Aria’s spine. Had she and the others been brought here as breeding stock? Were they to provide genetic material to keep his race healthy? Nausea tightened her stomach into a quivering ball as she imagined herself chained to a bed, a trail of men lined up to impregnate the alien female.
She imagined him being the first, his mouth capturing hers in a passionate onslaught, his naked body compressing her breasts tightly against his chest. She felt her cheeks flush and she tried to drive the thoughts from her mind as she concentrated on his words.
“As a race matures, nata’tai gives its people the ability to sense their tanash’ae — what you would call their soul-mate — even over great distances. To ensure a mingling of races, nata’tai directs the spirits of tanash’aei – soul-mates — to be born in different races on different planets.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve brought me here because you think I’m one of these tannashays?” She sucked in a breath. “Do you think that you and I…” Her finger flicked between them. “That we are… soul-mates?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Would that be a problem for you?”
No, a voice inside insisted, but she ignored it and sucked in a breath.
“Yes! Of course it would. I don’t even know you. I don’t intend to marry a man I don’t even know.”
He flashed a devil-may-care grin. “Who said anything about marriage?”
“Oh, I see.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “When you said soul-mate I assumed you meant, you know, love and marriage.”
This was all too much for her. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in. She didn’t even want to think about what he actually meant. That image of the chain and the bed swept through her brain again and not as an attractive fantasy this time. Her head sagged forward as tears pushed at her eyes.
“Aria, I’m sorry. I was teasing you. I’m not your tanash’ae.”
“Then why –?”
“Your tanash’ae is our king.”
Her head jerked up.
“I’m supposed to marry a king?”
“Does the thought appeal to you?”
“If I believed you, which I don’t, I would be honored, of course. It’s like a fairy tale, in a nightmarish sort of way, but I’m not going to marry some stranger on another planet, king or not. I don’t want to leave my family and friends… {snipped} I don’t want to leave my world behind.”
He leaned toward her, his hands folded between his knees. “If he weren’t a king, you could have negotiated where you’d live. Our home world or yours. But in this case, nata’tai has given you no choice.”
She knotted her fingers together. No choice. Déjà vu or what?
She sighed heavily. “Will I be expected to have sex with this guy?”
He smiled, kindness lighting his eyes.
“That’s usually what two bonded people do.”
She glared at him. “Why do you possibly think I’d have sex with a strange man after being abducted?”
He smiled broadly.
“You mean, you’d have sex with a strange man if we hadn’t abducted you?”
She stared at him blankly. She couldn’t believe it. This alien captain was teasing her.
Alien.
Oh, God. Although he looked quite human, he was an alien. A man from another planet.

.

Copyright © 2005 by Elizabeth Batten-Carew

http://www.elizabethbc.com/ExcerptTheKingAndI.htm

Author's Note: What the heroine does not know is that the alien hero is essentially
just like humans except for one interesting feature.
When erect, he can expand or contract his penis at will….

I don’t think I mentioned what I will be talking about on the STARSHIPS & SORCERERS & SEXY HEROES, OH MY! panel. Metaphorically speaking, I grabbed the Sexy Heroes with both hands. I’m talking about "Characterization When Your Hero Is Not Human".

Do brown eyed, French Canadian Knights in Armor count as aliens? Maybe so, if the INS enters the lists. Otherwise, definitely as heroes for your wildest fantasy romances.

Funnily enough, Deborah MacGillivray had a “Who is … contest,” and Dave was the answer more than one entrant suggested!

There is a resemblance!

Deborah MacGillivray says: My model's name is Tim Adams. Married, sigh. The cover is done by the cover artist Franco. There are two other Tim Adams, one is a soap star, and another a male model, but this is different Tim Adams! Weird they all could be brothers in looks. My Tim is the only one with the Campbell mouth. The picture was taken some time back and sat there, until my very smart editor, Hilary Sares, picked him out. It's EERIE how much he is so like my hero, Julian Challon. Hilary was able to see Challon as I did.

Deborah has kindly consented to share an exciting excerpt from a book that is a best seller four months before it becomes available!

[If you are under 18 years of age, please do not read any further.]

A Restless Knight by Deborah Macgillivray
(First of the Dragons of Challon sagas)
Scottish Medieval Historical
• Mass Market Paperback: 382 pages
• Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation (July 6, 2006)
• ISBN: 0821780360

“Tamlyn, you must learn to speak your thoughts. How else are we to know each other?”
She nodded. “My father loved my mother deeply, honored her above all others.”
“Go on.”
“I asked two conditions in our compromise…”
Challon drew a frustrated breath. “I promised I would wed you in your rites. As for your father, I shall do what I can, Tamlyn. If it were within my power I would see him released. These days, Edward hardly listens to anyone.”
She swallowed her tears. “It is not that.”
“Then pray what?”
“I would add another condition.”
Challon exhaled. “Let it be the last, Tamlyn. I want your agreement after this. We need to move forward.”
“If you speak your troth with me, I expect the vows to be kept. I shan’t accept a lord husband who keeps a leman.”
Challon moved so fast she had no time to react. He pushed her against the wall beside the window, his mouth taking hers. The stones were cool to her back, but Challon was all fire. He used his lips, his teeth, his tongue, working her mouth until she gave him what he wanted. Head spinning, sensations eddied through her blood until it was painful. He wasn’t rough, but he devoured her, kissed her with a hunger that was terrifying.
Tamlyn shoved against his shoulders. Challon was strong, the muscles of his beautiful arms rock hard, unyielding. He refused to break the kiss, but finally sensing her panic, gentled his demand. The slow, tender siege of her senses made her fear dissipate. Instead of pushing against him, she clung to him, fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her. His hand snaked over her hips, then the fingers of his left hand sifted through the soft curls. She squeaked in the kiss, as his middle finger slipped over her mound, along the wet crease and then into her body.
He broke the kiss and lightly nipped her lip. Moving the finger in and out slowly, he spoke low husky words. “Feel how your body weeps honey for me.” He chained kisses up her jaw, then nuzzled her ear. “I want to taste that honey.”
Her eyes widened as she understood what he meant. “But that is―”
“Is what, sweet Tamlyn?” His chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“But surely men do not―”
“Aye, they do. Think on it, my faidhaich. My mouth moving on you…my tongue thrusting in you.” He moved his finger slowly, agonizingly, making her body tremble in response.
Tamlyn was shocked by his suggestion, thinking it not proper. Then Challon’s hand worked magic and her mind instantly conjured the dark image, of him on his knees before her, doing everything he promised. And she wanted that, ached for that.
Her thighs clamped around his hand, holding him as lightning arced through her. The world seemed to vanish…then slowly put itself together again.
“Sweet mercy.” Julian sagged against her, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as his whole body tensed to steel.
Tamlyn listened to his labored breathing. Not moving, she feared he might fall since he leaned heavily on her. Just as she grew concerned, he straightened up. Putting a hand above her shoulder, he loomed over her.
“Give me that―anytime I want, faidhaich―then there won’t ever be a question of a leman.”