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inhaled to calm herself, but under his scrutiny, the action increased her awareness of how her nipples poked against his shirt, the fabric’s texture so different from Terran material. His gaze riveted on her breasts. He’d stared in the same bold fashion in her shop—like he was attracted to her but lacked the sense to realize ogling violated good manners.
    Testing her theory, she arched her back and watched as flames flared in his eyes. Okay, right hunch. Bad move . In her briefings, she’d been informed that alphas partnered with betas, using females only as breeders, although betas sometimes sought them for release. Judging from the libidinous expression on Marlix’s face, her information hadn’t nicked the surface of the truth.
    After surviving a near gang rape in the Market, here she was sexually taunting an Alpha. Insanity . Tara wet her dry lips. “Why did you kid—” She broke off, decided it would be prudent to avoid using any words that might be considered inflammatory. “Why did you bring me here?”
    He cocked his head and studied her. “I acted in the heat of the moment.”
    “Oh.” What did that mean? “How—how long are you going to keep me?” She held her breath.
    Marlix scowled. “You ask a lot of impertinent questions. Females do not address males in such a direct manner.”
    “Taking me violates the Terran-Parseon Treaty Agreement.” Take that! She patted herself on the back for her audacity.
    He frowned. “I am aware of that.”
    But obviously the treaty did not matter to him. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. She eyed him. My God, the man was huge. In bodybuilding competitions, he would be in a class by himself. Clutching his shirt to her chest, she sat up. “Do you have to tower over me?” She peered at him.
    “How am I towering? I am standing. That is all,” he said but dropped to his haunches.
    Tara gulped. Okay, that did not improve the situation. Now she could smell the manly heat of his body, distinguish individual flecks of amber that made his eyes appear solid gold at a distance, see the individual bristles that shadowed his square jaw. She took in his chiseled cheekbones, full lips, and heavy brows. From a distance, his size and visage intimidated. This close? Holy mother of all that was, well, holy. Tara could not find the words to express the effect. The man served as a flawless genetic specimen of symmetry and balance, a paragon of masculinity. Handsome as all fuck.
    She dropped her gaze and focused on his chest, his warm caramel skin stretching over serious pectoral muscles. His insignia pierced his right nipple. She recognized the Parseon moon within a four-point star. The points corresponded to the province he ruled. She’d memorized all the Alphas’ names and their insignia symbols. Had she bothered to count the stars in his insignia when she met him, she would have known his identity. Not that it would have altered what had happened. But she could have yelled to Ramon, It’s Marlix! It’s Marlix!
    Tara realized she was staring, but since he’d leered at her chest often enough, she considered turnabout fair play. Occupied with giving him the once-over, she jumped when he grabbed a handful of her hair.
    The man had some serious boundary issues.
    “Your hair”—his voice rumbled in a sexual way even when he was being obnoxious—“is not naturally pink.” He rubbed the strands between his fingers.
    “You think?” She glared, angry at the fluttery sensation his nearness evoked. Fear, she insisted. She flipped her head to jerk her hair from his grasp.
    He drew his brows together in confusion, and though she hated herself for capitulating, she answered him. “No, my hair is not pink. It is plain brown.”
    “Do any Terrans have naturally pink hair?”
    “No,” she said. “Didn’t you receive any kind of briefing about Terra before the Bazaar opened?”
    “There were informational meetings,” he admitted. “I did not attend most of