Page 15 of Alien Attachment (You’ve Got Alien Mail #2)

Contact Confirmed

Kaylee

The footsteps pass by our alcove without stopping, but the spell is thoroughly broken.

I step back from Jhorn, my heart still hammering from our almost-kiss, trying to pretend that my pulse isn’t doing interesting things and that I can’t feel his disappointment through our bond like a physical ache.

“We should get moving,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Find that information broker before—”

“Well, well. What have we here?”

The voice cuts through my words like a plasma blade through hull plating. I spin around, hand flying to my blaster, but I’m too slow—still distracted by Jhorn’s proximity and the way his shimmering skin had been shifting to deeper, warmer hues just moments before.

A figure steps from the shadows at the mouth of our alcove, weapon already drawn and aimed at my chest. Human, or mostly human—it’s hard to tell with the extensive cybernetic enhancements covering half his face and body.

His left eye glows red, a targeting implant that’s currently fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity.

“Perfect timing,” I mutter. “Because this day wasn’t complicated enough already.”

“Don’t,” he says calmly as my fingers brush my holster. “I’d hate to damage the merchandise. Especially when it comes with such... interesting modifications.” His gaze flicks to the bond-tendril connecting Jhorn and me, lingering with the kind of professional interest that makes my skin crawl.

Ice floods my veins, washing away the lingering warmth from our interrupted moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The bounty hunter—because that’s clearly what he is—smiles without humor. “ApexCorp pays well for lost assets,” he says, gesturing toward Jhorn with his chin. “And they’ll pay even more for the courier who absconded with it. Especially if she’s... bonded.”

His gaze drops to the tendril connecting us, and his smile widens with the satisfaction of someone who’s just realized their payday is bigger than expected. “Interesting development. The briefing mentioned a possible psychic link, but this is better than I hoped. Two for the price of one.”

Through our bond, I feel Jhorn go utterly still behind me—not the stillness of fear, but of a predator calculating the best angle of attack. The warmth I’d been feeling from him shifts to something cold and dangerous, like standing too close to a reactor core about to overload.

“How did you find us?” I ask, buying time while my mind races through our options. None of them are good.

“Your ship,” he says, clearly enjoying having the upper hand.

“The Nomad’s transponder signature was flagged in every system in the sector.

I was already here when you docked, just waiting for the right moment.

” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though I have to admit, I didn’t expect to find you two getting.

.. cozy... in a maintenance alcove. Makes this more interesting. ”

Heat floods my cheeks at the implication. “We weren’t—”

“Sure you weren’t, sweetheart. Just a friendly medical consultation, right?” His augmented eye whirs as it focuses on my healed arm. “Impressive work, by the way. Very... thorough.”

The way he says it makes my skin crawl, and I feel Jhorn’s protective instincts surge through our bond like a tidal wave. The hunter must sense the shift in mood, because he moves with blinding speed, grabbing me and yanking me in front of him as a shield before I can react.

The barrel of his blaster presses against my temple, cold and unyielding, and I curse myself for getting distracted. Three years of courier runs in the worst parts of the galaxy, and I let my guard down because an alien with pretty eyes was giving me the full healing treatment.

“Don’t try anything, ‘asset,’” he says to Jhorn, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “Wouldn’t want your new... pet... to get damaged before delivery.”

The word pet hits Jhorn like a knife to his core. I feel it through our bond—a spike of rage so pure and overwhelming that it takes my breath away. The air around us seems to vibrate, and I swear the temperature drops several degrees.

His eyes begin to glow, shifting from violet to a piercing, electric blue that illuminates the dim alcove like twin stars. When he speaks, his voice carries harmonics that seem to resonate in my bones.

“Release her.”

It’s not a request. It’s barely even words—more like the sound a storm would make if it could speak. The bounty hunter’s grip on me tightens, but I feel him shiver.

“I don’t think so,” he says, though his voice lacks its earlier confidence. “ApexCorp wants both of you intact, but they didn’t specify undamaged. I’m sure they won’t mind a few—”

He doesn’t get to finish. Jhorn’s tendrils emerge from beneath his cloak like living weapons, unfurling with a speed that defies physics.

One knocks the blaster away from my head with surgical precision, the weapon spinning away to clatter against the far wall.

Another wraps around the bounty hunter’s wrist with enough force to make the bones creak ominously.

A third tendril coils around the man’s throat—not squeezing, but poised to do so with lethal intent.

The hunter’s cybernetic eye flickers in panic as he’s lifted slightly off the ground, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the deck plating.

Jhorn steps forward, his face transformed by cold fury, his tendrils pulsing with patterns of light that seem to communicate rage, protection, and absolute territorial dominance.

“You will not touch her,” Jhorn says, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it, resonating with power that makes the air around us vibrate like a struck bell. “You will not take her. You will not speak of her as property.”

The way he emphasizes that last word sends heat through me that has nothing to do with the situation and everything to do with the possessive undertones in his voice. Even in the middle of a life-or-death situation, apparently my body has opinions about Jhorn going full protective alien mode.

The tendril around the hunter’s throat tightens fractionally, and the man’s organic eye widens in terror. Through our bond, I feel Jhorn’s intent—not to kill, not yet, but to hurt, to punish, to make an example that will ensure no one else tries to claim what is his.

One of his tendrils begins to glow with an intense, painful light, moving toward the hunter’s face with deliberate menace.

I don’t know what he intends—some kind of energy discharge?

Acid? Neural feedback that will fry the man’s brain?

—but the absolute certainty of harm radiating through our bond terrifies me.

“Jhorn, STOP!” I shout, my voice echoing in the narrow alcove. “Enough! Don’t kill him!”

Jhorn freezes instantly, his tendrils still extended but motionless.

The glow in his eyes flickers, confusion replacing fury as he turns to look at me.

The bond between us pulses with conflicting emotions—protective rage warring with his desire to please me, to obey my wishes even when they conflict with his instincts.

“He threatened you, Kaylee,” Jhorn says, his voice returning to its normal register but still vibrating with suppressed power. “He spoke of you as if you were cargo to be delivered.”

“I know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the way his protective fury is affecting me. “But killing him will just bring more hunters. We need information, not a body count.”

Jhorn considers this, his alien features shifting as he processes the logic. Finally, he nods, though I can feel his reluctance through our bond. His tendrils loosen their grip on the bounty hunter, who collapses to the floor with a satisfying thud, gasping and clutching his throat.

I retrieve the fallen blaster, checking the charge while keeping it trained on our unwelcome visitor. “Who sent you?” I demand. “Specifically. I know ApexCorp posted the bounty, but who’s your handler?”

The man coughs, his cybernetic eye recalibrating as he glares up at me with a mixture of fear and professional frustration. “Go to hell.”

Jhorn moves forward again, his tendrils rippling with renewed menace. The patterns of light running along their length shift from blue to an ominous red that probably means bad things for anyone on the receiving end. The hunter flinches back, suddenly finding his voice.

“Wait! Okay, okay. The bounty came through Keller. Laricus Keller, ApexCorp’s head of security. He’s running the retrieval operation personally, called it top priority.”

“How many others are looking?” Jhorn asks, his voice deceptively calm.

The hunter’s laugh is harsh, devoid of humor. “Everyone. Every bounty hunter, merc, and two-credit scavenger in the sector. ApexCorp’s offering enough credits to retire on. You’re the most wanted fugitives in three systems right now.”

Cold dread settles in my stomach like badly recycled protein rations. If we’re that hot, nowhere in the civilized galaxy will be safe. And Obsidian Haven suddenly feels a lot less like a haven and a lot more like a trap.

“How did you track us specifically?” I press, needing to understand how they found us so quickly.

“Your ship’s transponder, like I said. But also...” He hesitates, glancing between Jhorn and me. “The bond. It’s giving off some kind of energy signature. Faint, but detectable if you know what to look for.”

Through our connection, I feel Jhorn’s surprise, followed quickly by calculation. “The bond can be tracked?”

“Not easily,” the hunter admits, rubbing his throat where Jhorn’s tendril had been wrapped. “Takes specialized equipment, close range. But ApexCorp’s got the best tech credits can buy.”

This keeps getting better. Not only are we the most wanted criminals in known space, but our psychic connection is apparently broadcasting our location to anyone with the right scanner.

“What do you want?” the hunter asks, eyeing us warily. “You’re not gonna kill me, obviously, so what’s the play here?”

I exchange a glance with Jhorn, seeing my own realization mirrored in his luminous eyes. We need to disappear, and fast. The Nomad is compromised, Obsidian Haven is crawling with hunters, and we’re apparently carrying a tracking beacon that can’t be removed without potentially killing Jhorn.

“A ship,” I say, making a decision. “Something clean, untraceable. And you’re going to help us get it.”

“The hell I am,” he spits.

Jhorn moves closer, his tendrils undulating with quiet menace. Up close, his size is even more intimidating—seven feet of alien muscle and barely contained violence. “You misunderstand,” he says softly, his voice carrying undertones that make my skin prickle with awareness. “It was not a request.”

The hunter looks between us, calculation replacing some of his defiance. “What’s in it for me? You kill me or let me go, I’m still out the bounty money.”

“You get to keep breathing,” I point out helpfully. “I hear that’s popular these days.”

“Plus,” I continue, warming to the idea, “you help us, and we make sure word gets out that we’re dead. Ship explosion, no survivors, very tragic. ApexCorp calls off the hunt, and all those other bounty hunters go home empty-handed. Leaves the field clear for future opportunities.”

His augmented eye whirs as he processes this. “You’d fake your own deaths?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone disappeared in the Fringe,” I say with a shrug. “Ships blow up. Accidents happen. Very sad, very final.”

“And if I refuse?”

I gesture toward Jhorn, who obligingly lets his tendrils shift to that ominous red glow again. “Then we find out exactly what ApexCorp designed him to do to uncooperative subjects. I’m betting it’s not pleasant.”

The hunter swallows hard, his gaze fixed on Jhorn’s alien features. “Fine. I know a guy. Hangar B-7. Has a modified Kestrel-class that’s not on any registry. Clean as they come.”

“Lead the way,” I say, gesturing with my blaster. “And remember—he’s watching. He’s always watching.”

As the hunter moves reluctantly ahead of us, Jhorn falls into step beside me. The bond between us has calmed, returning to its usual warmth, but there’s a new undercurrent—a shared understanding that we’re in this crisis together.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, “for not killing him when I asked you to stop.”

Jhorn’s gaze meets mine, serious and intent. “I will always listen to your voice, Kaylee. Always. But I will also always protect you. This is not programming. This is choice. My choice.”

Something shifts between us in that moment, a subtle realignment that I can’t quite name but feel in my bones.

The almost-kiss from before hangs between us like unfinished business, and the way he went full protective alien mode has awakened things in me that I really shouldn’t be thinking about while following a bounty hunter through a criminal station.

But I am thinking about them. About the way his eyes blazed when he defended me. About the possessive undertones in his voice when he called me his. About how being protected, being claimed, felt better than it should.

The bond pulses once, bright and clear, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I don’t immediately wish it gone.

We have a long way to go, and ApexCorp won’t stop hunting us.

But as we follow the bounty hunter through Obsidian Haven’s shadowed corridors, I realize with startling clarity that I’m no longer facing the void alone.

And the alien watching my back with lethal intensity? He’s not just my protector anymore. He’s becoming something far more dangerous to my carefully guarded heart.

He’s becoming mine.