Page 25

What is pulling me?
Bursting from under the console, I roll onto my side enough to see.
Gray eyes the color of the morning fog gaze down at me. A dark beard and a wild muss of hair frame them as they furrow over a straight nose.
“Are you okay?” His deep voice strokes a little wild tremble in my belly. A flare of panic blossoms from it.
He can’t find out. He’ll send me back.
“I-I hid when it started dropping from the sky.” Did he blink just a tiny bit longer? Does he believe me? “I heard the safest place is in the cockpit, so I dove forward.”
Yea. Bat those eyelashes. I wish I had hair, I’d twirl my head to distract him.
The wrong color on my clothes pulls a glance and I can feel his distractingly sexy eyes follow.
My shirt is caked in blood.
Well. That’s unfortunate.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” His jaw clenches, the muscle starbursting up to his temple.
Now, to nonchalantly pull my legs out of the heat of his grip.
“It’s not mine.” It doesn’t come off when I try to brush it away. Like warm tar, it’s a sticky layer that’s coating my whole front.
A very un-quiet voice in my head is frantically crying out to get out of here. Crap, I almost forgot that I had folded my arm in half to kill the pilot.
Whew. It’s in one piece.
This guy has me flustered. I didn’t expect a welcome wagon to my shenanigans.
But, his jeans fill out nicely as he rolls back to sit on his heels, squatting over my feet so I could almost brush against his crotch with my toes.
“What happened? Where are you from?” Those freaking eyes, man. His face is still tilted down, so he looks at me through his lashes. Almost like a predator.
A crash comes from behind the cockpit.
No, no, no. They’re still alive?
Steps rattle through the floor directly into my asscheeks and fires little rockets into that get-the-fuck-out-of-dodge voice that is already so loud it’s almost hoarse.
Something big is getting closer and this guy is just staring at me like he’s going to eat me.
Hmm, well, there’s worse ways to die.
I should be so lucky.
Trying to watch him and the door of the cockpit at the same time, I almost wish I could pop my eyeball out of my socket.
That would be sure to impress my guests.
“I’m just from around. No need to worry about me.” Where can I be from? I don’t want to say Chicago.
Um. Words fail me as I fixate on a large claw wrapping around the door frame and a huge muzzle with a set of jaws that could swallow my entire head enters the small space I’m sharing with my rescuer.
The creature’s bloody teeth protrude as his lips curl. A wash of nasty hot breath cascades over me.
I feel dirtier.