Stolen By An Alien Read online

  Angie pushes air out from behind her teeth with enough force to make a pffft sound. I think I can guess her meaning so I say, “I can deny you nothing, sweet one.”

  Dohrein sneers.

  I want to ask him if the others will attempt to rescue the humans, but I know Angie will have more success with him than I, so I wait. Angie cannot. “Well? Will they abandon the search now if they find out we aren’t your Gryfalas? Do you know what is happening to them right now?” Her eyes shimmer then spill over and suddenly she has three males immured by the power of her tears.

  Purring erupts from Crispin until my fist connects with his shoulder. “Quit it.” I don’t want them to lull her horizontal every time she gets upset. His wings snap up, but he doesn’t retaliate.

  “I can promise you,” Dohrein says slowly, “They will not turn your kind away if they find them.”

  Angie looks hopeful. “Really?”

  “They won’t be able to,” he mutters.

  Crispin gazes down at her longingly. “Your resemblance to Gryfala is uncanny. They’ll act before they can determine there is a difference in our species. Once they are made aware, they still won’t be able to stop themselves from rescuing them. Also; do not fret about your future on the flight side. Your loss of wings evokes an extreme protective response in males.”

  She climbs off of me and brushes herself off while saying, as if it is of no consequence, “I never had wings.”

  That elicits a collective “Aww.”

  “No – I mean I don’t have them because I’m not supposed to. Humans don’t have wings.”

  Dohrein looks contemplative. “How do males mark and ready their females for sex if they have no wings?”

  She blinks. “You… with your wings?”

  Dohrein unfurls his and quicker than my eyes can track - he enfolds Angie, making her disappear from view as he clutches her in a winglock.

  21

  ANGIE

  Crispin, for all that he looks like a laid back surfer dude (with freakin’ wings) can pull off a stunningly effective glower.

  Nothing that could rival Arokh’s reaction though. Now he roars again, and I think the first one is why Dohrein let me go, but this time he looks unaffected. No, that’s not true; he looks smug – the bastard – but he acts unaffected by Arokh’s threatening anyway.

  Crispin’s wings flare, the very sharp looking talons at the tops flexing menacingly and I think Dohrein should be more worried about him. Apparently, inking me was a no-no. And that is just what happened. I am covered in this glimmery coating, the colors and patterns a perfect match for his wings. I start to rub a finger over one of the marks on my arm but Dohrein utters a pained plea; “Please, do not,” and grabs my hand.

  Arokh charges forward - but it’s Crispin that knocks Dohrein away from me. Then he looks hard at my skin. I look down again too. “Pretty,” I remark dreamily. It looks like I am coated in mica powder.

  It’s the wrong thing to say.

  “I must mark her.” Crispin says. His voice is all wrong. It comes out grating, angry. He is no gentle, relaxed boy anymore.

  Arokh’s growl is like the crack of a lashed whip; stunning and frightening.

  “Come to me.” Crispin says. “Please.” His tone is so commanding that I actually find myself taking a step to him. Arokh’s growl gets louder but my step was apparently all the permission Crispin needed; he too wraps me up in his wings and once again my world goes dark as I am smooshed into a very well muscled, very muscly, very… did I mention these guys were ripped? I think I must be having a hotflash. Heavens these are really good looking men. Males. Hobs. Whatever!

  Hands stroke down my back, softly and just once. I hear and feel Crispin inhale deeply, his nose pressed to the top of my head.

  Then I am peeled backward and meeting yet another amazing chest. “Wow,” I slur. And then I giggle. “I feel drunk.”

  Arokh is breathing hard and clutching me harder. “You are not happy, big guy,” I inform him helpfully. Then I laugh. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what is so funny!”

  “It’s the markings.” Arokh sounds more displeased than… I can’t think of what. He is the most displeased male right now that I have ever met, I think. But I don’t say this out loud. Or maybe I don’t say it loudly.

  “Shhh,” Arokh soothes. “The giddiness will pass.”

  “We should move her to the bed,” Dohrein says.

  I am bent backward when Arokh lunges for him – still holding me to his chest. “You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.” Touch comes out more of a snarl than a word and I tell Arokh that too. But he ignores me. His fist is still gripping Dohrein’s suit. “You don’t know how your marking will affect her – she isn’t a Gryfala, remember?”

  “She is reacting like one,” Dohrein’s voice is stubborn. And I like it. He raises a brow at my giggle, then holds out his hand in a “see that?” gesture. “Do you really want to sate her on this floor a few minutes from now? The bed is going to be the most comfortable for her.”

  Stumbling a little on the tips of my toes, I trace my fingers along Arokh’s neck, feeling his scales contract and ripple even as his body goes still. His shoulder is so meaty with muscle and fuck if I care about the fact that he has scales instead of skin. I give him a quick nip before laving the sting away. “Mmm.”

  I’m almost taken to the floor when Arokh’s knees start to buckle. He locks them and his hands grip me harder to keep me upright. “Whew!” I shout. “That was close.” I lick him again.

  “Tevek,” he bites out before he shoves Dohrein backward. My whole world is thrown on its side when he bends and loops and arm behind my knees.

  “Overboard! Mermaid off the port bow!” I’m the happy drunk, in case you were wondering.

  After a beat, Arokh shakes his head. “Hang on, sweethearts.” His voice is a little rough, but he says it into my ear and he doesn’t sound angry. Not at me anyway. “Which is good. I don’t want you angry at me.”

  He slows. “I am not angry with you, princess.”

  “Good!” I smack a kiss on him, aiming for his lips but I end up hitting his chin. It’s okay. I will keep trying.

  “I am going to kill Dohrein though,” he says almost conversationally.

  We reach the door to the bed area of the ship and I yelp when Arokh jostles me too roughly as he tries to open it. “Don’t drop me!”

  “Here,” says Crispin and he budges in to push the door open for him. “Will you consider letting me-“

  “Haven’t you done enough?” Arokh is back to being furious. I sigh. Huh. I can see his pulse and it pumps even faster when I breathe on his skin. I do it again.

  “Get out!” Arokh yells it.

  “So rude,” I say and I throw my arm around the back of his neck and slide my hands up until I touch his horns. He dumps me on the bed and I screech, “Hey!”

  He backs away from the bed like it is on fire. I start to pout playfully but all of a sudden I’m not feeling so good. I put my hands low on my abdomen and press. I suck in a breath at the stab of pain.

  “You are hurting, princess?”

  “Yeah. Cramps, I guess.” Normally I’d be embarrassed to talk to a guy about anything to do with down south problems, but it isn’t uncomfortable talking to Arokh. We’ve been through too much together, been too intimate for this to even hit the radar of awkward. I’m still turned on, but now my insides are starting to ache. I try to stretch out on my side to get more comfortable, but it doesn’t help. “Something is wrong. I feel really funny. But bad-funny, not good.”

  Arokh approaches carefully, climbing onto the bed and resting by my feet. “I know, sweetling.” He puts a hand on my thigh.

  A pulse goes through me, making me writhe on the bed in agony. “Agghhh!”

  “Tevek,” he breathes. “Move to your back.”

  I do as he commands. When his hand begins rubbing, I squirm. He moves upward, stroking - which both feels wonderful and, confusingly, also causes the pang
s on my insides to increase. When Arokh starts pushing my skirt further up my thighs I gasp, “No!” Now he is interested? “No. It hurts.”

  Quickly, he says, “I know, little one.”

  Then he looks like he's ready to bite off his own tongue.

  “What?” I whimper.

  His voice is impossibly deep. “I know how to make it better.”

  “You’re wrong.” I shove at his hands. With one, he nabs both of mine, and with the other, he grips my mons, his huge palm covering it, applying pressure in just the right spot. I go still, the pain in my abdomen instantly heating to… pleasure. Something freaky is going on. I don’t–

  “Trust me.” He squeezes a little and forces his palm downward making me moan and shift restlessly. But not in pain. If I don’t hurt as long as he’s touching me, then I am all on board.

  The ridges ringing the base of his horns rasp my inner thighs as he suddenly delves his face into my pussy. I shriek, something like “Unnh!” My legs try to clamp to his head but his horns jut out wider than his face so he is in no danger of being crushed-by-thigh. Built in face saver for pussy diving? Awesome. I just have to block the tips from taking out my eyes; no biggie here.

  “Don’t stop!” I order him on a wail. Dimly, some part of my brain is trying to be embarrassed that there are two guys just on the other side of this door, no doubt able to hear my every gasp and moan and scream but I am too far gone to care. I hold onto his horns, keeping the tips well away from my face and I’ll care later (maybe) after Arokh helps me come – come harder than I’ve ever experienced before if the building waves of pleasure are anything to go by.

  His super special, incredible, award-worthy tongue flutters over my clit a moment before his lips close over it. And he sucks.

  I scream.

  He makes me come once, twice, three times and I think I maybe even lose count. They roll, one over the other as I writhe, and moan, and beg unintelligibly. My body is racked with shudders so hard that I see stars like I’ve only ever heard about. I think I even black out. When my eyes open again I am still twitching all over, a jolt striking through my body and orgasm-heavy limbs with every languid lick of Arokh’s tongue.

  Through heavy lidded eyes I look at the giant shoulders and massive horns and handsome face between my legs, one of my thighs now limply thrown over his shoulder. And I quiver. Arokh’s eyes are molten and full of the promise of more amazing sex. “Please…” I beg, panting. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, and if you’d just ignore the fact that I’m as weak as a newborn right now…” I’m rambling, so the expression that races across his face doesn’t register.

  He releases my thighs so suddenly that they fall open - rudely, I might add. But I don’t think I could close them if I wanted to. My pussy is still quaking and now there is a fierce, empty ache building in my core.

  But I know he can fix that. As he rears back to sit on his haunches, the bulge behind his armored fly is visible.

  So I am shocked speechless when he strokes my thigh…

  And leaves the room.

  22

  AROKH

  “She needs us?”

  I bristle at Crispin’s hopeful face, and even more hopeful question.

  “I sated her,” I snarl, my eyes narrowed to slits.

  A snort makes me swing my gaze to Dohrein. His brows rise in challenge and he slowly drawls, “That was ...swift.”

  I want to lunge for his throat, but my body is locked, barring their way to the door. I can’t make myself go any farther from her side. Besides. Even if it were possible for me to move, these two would take the advantage then and go in to Angie.

  Would she accept them?

  Of course she would. Her body would make her, even if her head has her still wary of the pair.

  “I didn’t breed with her,” I clarify.

  “Why not?” Crispin looks astonished. Then he inhales, as if he was afraid to smell her on me before, and suddenly isn’t now. Now that he is hoping he has a chance with her in her desperate state. My Angie.

  “I didn’t know before - she acted like…” I turn my head so that I can slam my horns into the wall. When I regain my ability to speak, I deliberately say the words that make me desperate for another shower. Make me desperate for her to have another shower. The things I did to her… “She said she isn’t… mature.” Disgust over my actions pools in my guts.

  Dohrein’s jaw drops and his eyes bug. Then understanding dawns. “She meant that she wasn’t emotionally mature enough – to handle the stress of the inoculation without crying like a fledgling - you machaai.”

  I stare at him stupidly.

  As much as I am loathe to admit it, these two were raised by a Gryfala, have grown up around a Gryfala, have studied Gryfala. My Angie is so like their kind; they thought she was a Gryfala.

  Dohrein’s lip is still tugged up slightly when he finally speaks. “Let me guess. This is the first Gryfala you’ve met.”

  “She’s human,” I correct snidely.

  “Then humans are very much like Gryfala,” he marvels. “And if she were Gryfala, our Angie is prime for breeding.” His voice had gone husky with that last word.

  Our?? I growl a warning in response.

  “We could smell you on her already, Rakhii; what is one more mounting before you are broken? Unless you are afraid she won't accept you now. And in that case, step aside.”

  Crispin had leaned so that he could see around me, and was staring at the door hungrily, tranced, when he said, “Why don’t you ask her? Unless you are afraid she won’t accept you now.”

  “And I say again - in that case, step aside,” Dohrein repeats eagerly.

  My lips are peeling back from my fangs when Crispin tilts his head, his eyes still locked on the door like a female hot for her males is on the other side of it. “Do you smell that?”

  I hiss, “What do you mean smell, I can still taste-“

  “No – he’s right.” Dohrein’s mouth opens as he inhales, trapping the scent of emotions in his upper palette.

  And I do too.

  And my hearts clench.

  “You are a fool,” Dohrein accuses. He looks at me like I am the scum that collects on to the sides of a waste vac tube.

  Apparently, I am a fool. I should have just asked her. I knock them back with my tail when I whirl around, praying I can fix the harm I have caused.

  23

  ANGIE

  I don’t look up right away when the door opens. I feel so sorry for myself.

  And disconcerted. And rejected. Basically, all the verbs. The way he played my body and then just left me… It had pity-fuck vibes all over it - without the full fucking experience - like he couldn’t even bring himself to finish the pity fuck because he felt so much pity for me.

  Ouch.

  Is it because the other two hugged me? Now he’s grossed out?

  Fucking aliens. Or, I guess, anti-fucking aliens.

  I turn my head away so that I can discreetly swipe under my eyes.

  “Angie.”

  I blink until I think I’ve got it together, then I hold my eyes open really, really wide so that I can look at him without feeling like I need windshield wipers for my face.

  And when I look at him, I see regret in his expression.

  I feel my chin quiver. And windshield wipers for my face would be really handy right now.

  His voice comes out rough and breaks when he breathes “Sweetling…”

  My breath chokes in my throat, making that weird gag-sob noise that telegraphs that your heart is totally shattering and your man is a douche. And he’s not even mine. Even though I stupidly wanted him to be. He’s an alien – or I’m an alien, but either way, we are just too different to make this work because I have no idea what is going on.

  When I see his hand nearing my cheek, I pull back. “I d-don’t want your-rr-r-“ snort-gag-sob “-stupid pity! You-“ Ugh, why does your voice wobble when you’re trying to get important words out at crucial times like
this? “-don’t want me, you made that plenty cleeear,” I swallow, and my throat is shaking so I give up talking and my eyes are hot and I can feel them swelling and I am one to ugly cry with copious amounts of tears and snot so I cover my face and rise up enough to turn my whole body away from the door he’s still standing in front of, still bent towards me like he wants to comfort me – me, his ugly alien urchin, who has latched on and grown ridiculous, misplaced romantic feelings for him even though we’re not even close to being the same kind of beings. And I didn’t even care. But maybe he does.

  I hear what I assume is the big, heavy door lock drop into place with a hollow thud.

  “I don’t want you.”

  “F-f-fuck!” I whip my head to stare at him over my shoulder. “I didn’t think you were such a-“ wet hiccup “-d-d-dick!”

  “I don’t want you.” He repeats, just staring back at me. He doesn’t look sorry anymore – actually, he doesn’t look like anything. It’s like his whole expression has been washed.

  Fine. Screw him. I try to sniff like I don’t care, but it comes out like a brokenhearted sniffle instead. Fucking crying fucking sucks! I slam my hands on my knees and glare at the side of the room his stupid ass isn’t standing in and try to reign it in. Yeah, it doesn’t work.

  “I DON’T WANT YOU?” Arokh suddenly roars. I startle, and fall to my side and I twist so fast that I bounce once. I hear what sounds like a heated argument explode right outside the door, and I kind of hope they break in because Arokh actually looks angry – at me. I’ve never seen it before and frankly; I don’t care for it. My hand slides to a pillow, which I clutch like a weapon. Without thinking it through, I launch it as his head.

  He arches his neck so that it thuds against his horns, before it lands harmlessly on the floor.

  I try to growl in outrage, but I have the choking hiccups now so it doesn’t sound very menacing and, weirdly, a maniacal laugh bubbles over my spasming diaphragm as I launch the next pillow, making me sound like a hyena that is in sore need of the Heimlich.