Page 7 of Bound to the Beast (Interstellar Brides Program: The Beasts #9)

K rystal

I didn’t stop sobbing until I didn’t have any tears left.

The cat really was great. He kept me company.

Kept me warm. Didn’t judge me, try to boss me around, order me to live on another planet, or try to take Brody away from me.

“You’re the perfect man for me, Alexander.

But maybe you should grow a bit bigger.” Big as a bear?

So he could kill anything that came at us with a swipe of his giant paws.

Or big like a certain kindergarten teacher. I’d like to see what he could do with his massive paws.

A shiver—not all from the cold—raced over my skin and I set my cup down on the edge of the table.

Alexander leaped off my lap onto the table and did that cat thing. He swiped at the cup but bumped the bottle.

The glass container fell, shattering into so many pieces around my bare feet that the ground glistened as if covered in a light dusting of snow.

“Well, shit.” I looked around for my slippers, saw them several feet away, just inside the back door. I sighed and glared at Alexander the Not So Great. “That was rude, Fluffybutt.” He was going back to his undignified nickname after this.

“Meow mowwrr meow.”

“I don’t speak cat.” I tapped the bump under my ear where the Everians had implanted what they called a Neural Processing Unit—or NPU—that instantly translated every language all the aliens spoke.

Humans, too. Which was cool. Kinda. I could understand everyone at the airport now, no matter what language they were speaking, just couldn’t answer.

Which was frustrating. “We need to tell the alien nerds to update their tech and add cat.”

He stared at me like he understood every word I said, yeowling at me when I gingerly placed my feet on the concrete. “Here goes nothing.”

“No!”

Was that a man’s voice? Sounded like someone had their TV on too loud next door. Either that, or I was hearing things. Didn’t matter. Suddenly, I was bone cold and just wanted to go inside.

I stood, cursing up a storm as the broken splinters of glass dug into my feet.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I tip-toed three more steps and made it to the back door. The balls of my feet were on fire. I didn’t look down, didn’t want to see the blood—if there was any. I was probably just being dramatic.

The sound of glass shattering behind me made me turn.

Alexander sat on the very edge of the table looking innocent as the day he was born, my drink glass now in pieces next to the bottle on the ground. “Damn cat.”

I wanted to yell, but I didn’t have the energy left after the sob-fest, and the fact that my feet felt like they were on being poked with dozens of needles. “See if I feed you tomorrow.”

Definitely wouldn’t be using glassware on the concrete patio again. Duh.

Door open, I looked down at my feet. Yes indeed. Bit of blood. Nothing dramatic, but still…

I glanced at the pale, gray carpeting in the living room with a sigh.

How was I supposed to get through the house without making a mess?

“Stop. Do not move.” A deep, raspy male voice made me squeal. Jump.

Land on my glassed-up feet.

“Shit!” A sob escaped as strong arms wrapped around me and swept me off my feet.

Iven—the sexy Viking—Smith, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire, cradled me against his mostly bare chest. His shirt—what was left of it—hung in tatters from his massive shoulders.

His hair was soaked. Rain glistened on eyelashes so long they should be illegal.

Intense hazel eyes focused on me like I was the only thing that existed in the world.

What remained of his shirt was wet, clinging to his shoulder muscles and biceps.

So hot. Worse, the skin on his chest and neck glistened like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

I bit my lip to keep from leaning the few inches necessary to lick his skin.

What. The. Hell? Was I losing my mind? I did not react to men like this. Ever.

“What are you doing here?” I glanced at Alexander, expecting some kind of reaction.

The cat yawned , watching us with those intelligent blue eyes.

Definitely understood everything going on. Obviously did not feel Iven was a threat. I trusted the stupid cat and relaxed just a little.

Iven didn’t respond to my question, just carried me like precious cargo into the kitchen and settled me on the counter.

He smelled amazing. Like fresh rain and sky and man.

Somehow I just knew no one else in the world smelled like he did.

He turned me so my feet rested over the sink and turned on the water.

“Iven.” I cleared my throat. “Mr. Smith.” No sense getting too personal when this was going nowhere, right? “What are you doing?”

“Iven.” He placed his hand under the water to check the temperature but his gaze locked with mine as he made his demand. “Say it again.”

My brain was not involved in the decision to move my mouth. “Say what?”

“My name.”

“Iven.” I wanted to chant it, preferably while his cock was buried deep and I was losing control from my third or fourth orgasm.

I stared at the square cut of his jaw, the scowl of concentration as he washed my feet with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his size.

Was his face getting bigger? How freaking drunk was I?

“What happened to your shirt?” He looked like a character in an Incredible Hulk re-run, his long-sleeved, black shirt literally hanging from his shoulders in tatters, like he’d taken a pair of scissors to it. Ripped it to shreds.

Instead of answering my question, he ripped the remnants from his back and tossed it to the floor like scrap.

Now I had a full view of his chest. Shoulders. His back. And those abs. I tracked every dip and curve until the waistband of a pair of tight, black pants blocked my view.

If I hadn’t been drooling before, I was now.

Sheesh. Looking like a sex god shouldn’t be legal.

My fingers twitched, wanting to touch. I dug my fingernails into my palms in an effort to control myself.

He was too handsome. Too masculine. Too many muscles.

Too much heat. I wanted to curl into him and let him take care of me, do whatever he wanted with me.

I was so tired of being scared. Alone. I wanted to be his.

A guy like this would protect what belonged to him. I could just hear the feminists screaming at me that I shouldn’t want to belong to any man.

Fuck them all. I did. I so did. I wanted to belong to Iven Smith.

But only if he was in love with me. Devoted.

Only if he adored me and lusted after me equally.

Only if he looked at me the way Rojak had looked at Kim.

That’s what I wanted. Now that I had Brody to take care of, I couldn’t even volunteer to be an Interstellar Bride.

Not that I’d trust any alien to take care of him after everything that had happened. Seemed I was just screwed.

Except, Iven was human. Big, but human. A regular man. Right? I could fall in love with him. He’d want to stay on Earth, and have babies, and live a normal life. Wouldn’t he?

The light wasn’t great, but I had to blink twice.

Looked like he had thin strands of metal running over the skin on his shoulders, as if he’d been decorated with very thin tinsel, like a Christmas tree.

When he twisted a bit, I saw the same silver glinting from his upper back like he had metallic spider webs in his skin. Was that metallic tattoo ink?

Weird, but didn’t matter. I still wanted to lick him up and down like a lollipop.

No man should look this good. It wasn’t fair.

I was frumpy and plain. Pale skin. Pale eyes.

Thin lips. My hair was just curly enough to be difficult to manage, but not bouncy enough to look like a shampoo model’s.

I was too curvy, too soft, too tall. Too everything for a perfect specimen like him.

His enormous hands cradled my feet like they were newborn kittens as he gently washed them.

My size eleven feet hadn’t felt small since about third grade.

Hell, I hadn’t felt small or feminine since I hit puberty.

But with those large hands caressing my feet, my heart was indulging in all kinds of emotional fantasies like being cared for, sheltered, and adored.

What would it be like to have someone like Iven in love with me? Desire me?

Was it hot in here?

I whimpered as Iven pulled me closer to the sink and dipped my feet into warm, sudsy water. A large, strong hand wrapped around my ankle as he gently sprayed the bottom of first one foot, then the other, to rinse off the soap. The water stung. The soap stung more.

I didn’t care. His touch was making it difficult to breathe.

My flannel shirt dress was riding up my thighs to the point of indecency.

I was about to show him the black lace panties I’d put on this morning.

Thinking about him, of course. I only had a couple pair of sexy undies, and I normally reserved them for special occasions.

This morning, the special occasion was fantasies about a certain co-worker who was now standing in my kitchen touching me.

I had to get out of the situation. Now. “I’m fine.

Really.” I pulled the dress down over bent knees and pulled away from him so I could swing my legs out over the counter, the ridiculous thought that I was glad I’d shaved my legs in the shower this morning making me want to slap some sense into myself.

“I’ll just finish up in the bathroom. I can probably get the rest of the glass out in the shower. ”

“Where you will remove your clothing?”

What? “Uh, yes?” Strange question. Strange situation.

He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react, his arms on either side of me, his face so close our breaths mingled. His lips, those big, luscious lips that I’d been fantasizing over for three days, were right there. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No.” What the hell was he talking about?

How did this even happen? Why was he in my kitchen?

“Why are you here? Are you stalking me?” My pulse jumped in alarm as I realized how stupid I was being.

With his shirt gone, I should have noticed the big, gold and silver manacles on his wrists.

Bracelets? With strange, sci-fi looking designs etched into the metal? I’d seen something similar before…

Mating cuffs…

“Oh, shit.” He was an a lien .

I watched the Bachelor Beast TV show, just like every other red-blooded female on the planet. I knew a freaking pair of Atlan mating cuffs when I saw them. Oh, god.

So, what? He was an Atlan Warlord and he already had a mate ? Good thing I’d used up all my tears. If I hadn’t, the burning in my eyes would have led to a very embarrassing breakdown over an alien who had no idea how obsessed I was with him the last few days. No idea.

I lifted my gaze to stare at the cabinets mounted to the wall behind him.

This was fine. No big deal that he already had a woman.

I’d already decided there would never be anything between us, no matter how sexy he was.

The fact that he was from another planet didn’t change the facts.

One, he was an alien. Two, he had a mate.

And three? Every alien I’d met since my sister died had been trying to kill Brody, me, or both.

“Those are mating cuffs on your wrists. You’re an Atlan Warlord.”

“I am.”

“With a mate.”

“Yes.” He didn’t even try to deny it. Alien assassins were hunting for Brody and here I was panting over a stranger like Brody’s life—and mine—weren’t in danger.

A huge, powerful stranger that had mysteriously shown up out of the blue for no good reason.

An Atlan Warlord. Pretending to be a kindergarten teacher?

What a coincidence that he just happened to be the new teacher for Brody’s class.

“What are you doing at my house? Why are you here?” Did he know?

Of course he did. The more important question was, what did he plan to do about it now that he’d found us?