Page 10 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire (Mates of Veritas #2)

CHAPTER 10

LANZ

T he water’s scalding—just the way I like it. The shower’s steam curls around me as I scrub my scales, buffing them to a high shine even though Tyler won’t see them tonight. The image inducer will do its job, projecting that smooth, human skin she’s so fond of. I linger under the spray, my mind wandering to her. Her laugh, her eyes, the way she trembles when I touch her. It’s been too long since I’ve felt anything like this. Too long since someone didn’t see me as just a weapon.

I step out, the water dripping off me as I reach for the towel. My reflection in the mirror catches my eye, the faint shimmer of my holographic disguise flickering at the edges. I adjust the settings, making sure it’s flawless. Tonight, I’m Alonzo Ramone. Billionaire. Playboy. The man who can give her the world.

The dark grey suit slides on like a second skin, tailored to perfection. I fasten the diamond cufflinks, the gold chain around my neck settling just right. The earrings I picked out for her—simple, elegant, deadly expensive—rest in my pocket. A gift. A reminder. She’s mine.

I’m halfway to the garage before it hits me. I didn’t plan anything. No yacht, no private chef, no orchestra. Just me. For a moment, panic claws at my chest. What if it’s not enough? What if she expects more? Then I shake it off. No. I’ll improvise. I’ve faced worse than a second date without a plan.

The car purrs to life, the engine a low growl as I pull out onto the street. The sun’s setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. It’s almost poetic. Almost.

Her apartment building looms ahead, unassuming and quaint. I park and pull out my phone, firing off a quick text. I’m here.

Nothing. Not a single buzz in response. My grip tightens on the phone. She’s never ignored me before. Something’s wrong.

The thoughts come unbidden. The Grolgath. What if they saw us together? What if they’ve taken her? My heart pounds, a rare flicker of fear coursing through me. I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

I’m out of the car in an instant, moving with purpose. The lock on her door is laughably easy to pick, my tools slipping into place with practiced ease. The door creaks open, and I step inside, my senses on high alert.

“Tyler?” My voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it I can’t hide.

The apartment’s quiet, too quiet. I scan the room, my eyes catching every detail. The couch, the coffee table, the TV still on some cooking show. No signs of a struggle. No signs of her.

I step further in, my boots silent on the carpet. “Tyler, if you’re playing a game, it’s not funny.”

Still nothing. My jaw clenches. I move toward the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I push it open, ready for anything.

I push the bedroom door open, and there she is. Tyler, curled up in her bed, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. She’s asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The oversized shirt she’s wearing rides up just enough to reveal the curve of her thigh, and my body can’t remember how to breathe.

I stand there, frozen, the tension in my chest unraveling. She’s safe. She’s fine. I overreacted. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Since when do I overreact? Since when does anyone get under my skin like this? I’m a Vakutan, for stars’ sake. I’ve faced down armies, assassinated warlords, and yet here I am, panicking because a human woman didn’t answer her phone.

I back out of the room, careful not to make a sound. The door clicks shut behind me. I feel off. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I’m supposed to be. But the thought of her in danger—it’s like a knife twisting in my chest.

I step outside, closing the apartment door behind me, and knock. Three sharp raps, loud enough to wake her. I hear movement inside, the soft padding of feet on the carpet, and then the door opens.

Tyler stands there, sleepy-eyed but smiling. Her hair’s a mess, and she’s still wearing that oversized shirt, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. She’s barefoot, her toes curling against the cool floor.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice thick with sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I must look like a mess.”

I shake my head, my eyes tracing the lines of her legs, the way the fabric clings to her curves. “You look perfect,” I say, the words slipping out.

She blushes, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “You’re just being nice.”

“I’m not.” I step closer, my hand brushing against hers. “I’m happy to see you, Tyler. But I feel bad for waking you. I can leave, let you rest.”

“No,” she says quickly, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. Her grip is firm, insistent. “Please, stay. Just give me a moment to pull myself together.”

I nod, letting her tug me inside. The apartment smells like her—vanilla and something sweet, like sugar cookies. It’s comforting, familiar. I watch as she disappears into the bedroom, the door closing softly behind her.

I stand there, my heart still racing, and realize something I’ve been trying to ignore. My desire goes far beyond the physical realm. Nothing less than total possession of Tyler will do. Heart, mind, body, and soul. All must be mine, or it's not enough.

I knock on her door, the sound sharp and insistent. My claws tap against the wood, a rhythm that’s more demand than request. I don’t wait for an answer. I don’t need to. The door creaks open, and there she is, standing by her closet, still in that oversized shirt that hangs off her like a curtain. Her eyes widen when she sees me, her lips parting in surprise.

“Lanz…” she breathes, her voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

I step inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click. My eyes lock onto hers, and I can see the flicker of something in her gaze—fear, curiosity, maybe even a hint of excitement. I don’t give her time to think. I stalk over to her, my movements deliberate, predatory. With one swipe of my clawed hand, I rip the shirt right off her body. The fabric tears like paper, falling to the floor in tatters.

Tyler gasps, her hands flying up to cover herself. But I’m faster. I grab her wrists, my grip firm but not painful, and pull her arms away from her body. She’s exposed now, her skin glowing in the soft light streaming through the window. Her breasts rise and fall with each quick breath, her nipples hard and begging for attention. My eyes travel lower, to the curve of her hips, the soft swell of her stomach, and finally to the glistening wetness between her thighs.

“So…” she says, her voice shaking but with a note of something else—something that makes my blood run hot. “I guess I’m not allowed to wear clothes tonight?”

I smirk, my golden eyes narrowing as I lean in closer. “No,” I say, my tone rough. “You’re not.”

I push her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head with one hand. Her body is warm against mine, her skin soft and smooth. I can feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She’s scared, but there’s something else there too—something that makes my own pulse quicken.

I kiss her then, my lips claiming hers with a hunger that surprises even me. She moans into my mouth, her body arching against mine. Her hands twist in my grip, not to pull away but to hold on, to anchor herself as I take what I want. My tongue slips past her lips, exploring, tasting, claiming. She’s sweet, so sweet, and I can’t get enough.

When I finally pull back, she’s panting, her eyes wide and shining. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed. She looks up at me, her expression a mix of fear and desire, and I know I’ve got her. She’s mine, and she knows it too.

Her wrists are so small in my hand, delicate and warm against my scales. I pin them to the wall above her head, my grip firm but not enough to hurt her. She gasps, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath. I can smell her arousal, sweet and heady, and it drives me wild. My other hand fumbles with my fly, the fabric giving way as I free myself. She’s already wet, her body trembling with anticipation as I press against her.

“Lanz,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What if?—”

I cut her off with a growl, my lips brushing against her ear. “No what ifs. Just me and you.”

I push into her slowly, savoring the way she tightens around me, the way her breath quickens in her throat. She’s so warm, so tight, and I can’t hold back. I thrust into her, hard and deep, my hips slamming against hers with a force that makes the wall shake. She moans, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper.

“Yes,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I can’t. My inner beast is loose, and I’m lost in the feel of her, the sound of her, the way she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, and I know she’s close. So am I.

The sound of the front door opening cuts through the haze of pleasure. Tyler freezes, her eyes wide with panic.

“Cindy’s back,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I don’t stop. I can’t. I reach out with one long arm, slamming the bedroom door shut with a force that makes the walls tremble. My hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her moans as I thrust into her harder, faster. She’s trembling, her body on the edge, and I can feel her tightening around me, her climax building.

“Tyler, are you awake?” Cindy’s voice is tentative, unsure.

I press my forehead against Tyler’s, my golden eyes locking onto hers. “Don’t make a sound,” I whisper.

She nods, her eyes wide, her body trembling as I push her closer to the edge. Her moans are muffled by my hand, her nails digging into my shoulders as she clings to me. I can feel her climax building, her body tightening around me, and I know she’s close. So am I.

“Tyler?” Cindy’s voice is closer now, just on the other side of the door.

Tyler’s body convulses, her scream muffled by my hand as she comes, her nails digging into my shoulders. I can’t hold back any longer. I thrust into her one last time, my own climax crashing over me as I fill her, my body trembling with the force of it.

The sound of Cindy’s footsteps fades as she leaves, the apartment falling silent once more. I pull back, my hand slipping from Tyler’s mouth as I catch my breath. She’s trembling, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of her climax, her eyes wide and shining.

“Lanz,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “That was…”

I smirk, my golden eyes narrowing as I lean in closer. “Mine, You’re mine.”

Her words strike something deep inside me, a primal chord I didn't know existed. The way she looks at me, so trusting, so willing - it awakens something both tender and fierce. I lean in to claim her lips again, to seal this moment with a kiss.

But then I see them. Small indentations around her mouth, red marks where my scales pressed too hard against her delicate skin. My blood runs cold.

"Did I hurt you?" The words come out sharp, urgent. Fear grips me - not of her answer, but of myself. Of what I am. Of what I could do to her without meaning to.

But Tyler... she surprises me. Her small hands wrap around my wrist, her grip surprisingly firm. Before I can pull away, she guides my hand back to her mouth, pressing my palm against her lips. Her eyes meet mine, bright and defiant and full of something that makes my heart stutter.

I feel her smile against my palm, her breath warm on my scales. The message is clear - she's not afraid. She wants this. Wants me. All of me.

The restaurant reservations, the carefully planned evening - none of it matters anymore. Not when she's here, looking at me like that, accepting every part of me without hesitation.

"I guess we're staying in," I murmur, my free hand already sliding down her back.