Captured: Warriors of Hir, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

a whole new level of happiness. Orange juice became a quick favorite too and he decimated half the Tropicana jug, pouring glass after glass for himself.
    When he’d finished everything he sat back, looking at her with warm eyes.
    “You know what?” Jenna gave him a quick smile. “I have an idea.”
    Her grandfather hadn’t had much appetite in his last days and she hadn’t had the heart for baking since, but she could still make Pap’s favorite double-fudge chocolate chip brownies in her sleep.  She pulled the ingredients and had the mise en place put together in minutes. The alien watched as she cracked eggs and measured cocoa and sugar. He stood at her side as she mixed, watching as she smoothed the batter into the pan.
    She slid the pan into the oven and he stuck his hand inside before she could shut the door.
    “Oh, careful,” she cried, grabbing his wrist to pull his hand out. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
    He watched her mouth as she spoke like he was trying to catch her words and gave a soft huff when she stopped.
    The alien busied himself exploring the kitchen as she washed up. He opened and closed drawers, touching everything he could get his hands on, holding this or that up to the light to get a better look.
    Glancing at him as she worked, she wondered if his vision was different than hers. Certainly he seemed to have a much better sense of smell; his eyes were alight with interest and he was sniffing at the oven long before she could smell the brownies at all.  The timer went off just as she was finished wiping up the counter and he caught her wrist as she opened the oven door to take the pan out.
    “It’s okay,” she assured, showing him she was going to use an oven mitt to protect her hand.
    He hesitated then relaxed his grip, trailing his fingers along her palm as she pulled her hand away.
    He inhaled deeply as she took the brownies out.
    “We have to let them cool,” she warned, waving him back. Jenna wasn’t sure why she kept talking. It wasn’t like he could understand her. It just made her feel more comfortable around him.
    I shouldn’t be comfortable. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. He shot me! He handcuffed me to the bed. He’s a fucking alien, for God’s sake!
    But she was enjoying this. Enjoying watching his face light up with each new taste, seeing his intent interest in every little thing she did, touching and examining things with the openhearted curiosity of a child.
    “I gotta throw another log on the fire,” she muttered, pushing past him into the living room.
    She moved the fire gate aside, aware of how he tensed as she put the log on. She moved the gate back and straightened to find herself looking at one of the photos of her and Pap on the mantle. 
    It had been taken the summer before he’d gotten sick. Pap was smiling big, his rounded cheeks ruddy with good health. He was wearing his favorite battered fishing hat and vest, holding a catch the size of a goldfish. She was next to him, a couple inches taller than he, her cheeks and nose pink from the sun, a spray of freckles across her nose, her brown hair showing bits of gold, grinning too as she held up a ten-pound bass.
    A lump formed in her throat. She reached for the bird charm at her throat, the one he’d given her when she’d first come to live with him, her tears blurring his smiling face.
    I miss you so much . . .
    She startled when the alien touched her, his hand light as he cradled the back of her head, stroking her hair. She met his eyes and he blinked, his gaze following the progress of the tears on her face. He gently brushed away a tear from her face and rubbed the wetness between his fingers.
    “That’s my Pap,” she said with a nod at the photo. “He . . . he died a little while ago. That’s why I’m sad.”
    He glanced at the photo and back at her, his head tilted.  She took the frame down and pointed at her grandfather. “Pap.”
    “Pppaaapp,” he growled.
    She gave a short laugh and wiped