Page 13 of Tamed by the Alien Warlord
LANZ
T he medbay lights hurt my eyes. Not because they’re bright—but because they remind me I’m still alive.
My body is a patchwork of agony. Every breath feels like chewing gravel soaked in fire. My right side throbs with phantom pain, even though I know there’s nothing left of the arm. Still, the pain isn’t what makes my chest tight.
It’s her.
Georgia.
She’s here. Sitting beside me, looking like hell and heaven at the same time—tangled hair, blood-smeared cheeks, and those firestorm eyes daring the universe to mess with her again.
“You’re awake,” she breathes. Not relief, not a question. Just a fact. And then, “You nearly died, you stupid, arrogant slab of alien meat.”
“I missed your voice,” I rasp. My throat feels like it was sandpapered by a plasma drill.
“You should have missed having a right arm,” she snaps. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I’d rather blow myself up than let anything happen to you.”
Her expression twists. Anger, gratitude, something else. “You’re an idiot.”
“Takes one to love one,” I say.
She glares. “Nobody said anything about love.”
“No?” I grin through the pain. “What do you call refusing to leave my side, then?”
She opens her mouth, closes it. Then groans. “We are not doing this right now.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking about feelings.”
I shift, biting back a grunt. “You brought it up.”
“Only because you made it weird!”
We glare at each other for a second—and then both start laughing. Mine’s more like coughing, but I’ll take it.
She wipes her eyes. “Jasmine’s okay, by the way.”
I nod. “I heard. Gash assigned her Devak’s quarters. He died screaming, so it’s probably good luck.”
“She’s sleeping. Healing. Gash even braided her hair.” Georgia snorts. “Didn’t think Reapers knew how to braid.”
“We know lots of things. Especially when it comes to claiming what’s ours.”
She goes quiet. Then, softer, “You think I should be in there, watching her breathe?”
I study her. “Maybe.”
She leans back. “You want me to go?”
“No.” I glance at the empty space in the bed beside me. “I want you right here.”
She moves without another word.
Climbs into the narrow medbed and presses herself against me, careful but confident. Her head tucks under my chin. My left arm—the only one left—wraps around her shoulder like it was made to.
We fit. Somehow, we just... fit.
“You’re warm,” she murmurs.
“You’re mine,” I reply.
She hums, and I feel the vibration through my chest. Then, teasingly: “I’m still going to mouth off.”
“I’m still going to punish you for it.”
She tilts her head to look at me, eyes glassy and just a little wicked. “Oooh. Promise?”
I kiss her.
It’s slow. Deep. No desperation this time—just a kind of gentle claiming. Her hand cups my jaw. Mine holds her tighter.
Then she sighs, melts into me, and we both drift in silence for a moment.
After a beat, she mumbles, “You know, when Jasmine and I were kids, we used to play this game. Dreaming up the kind of guy we’d marry one day.”
I smile against her temple. “Let me guess. Strong. Brave. Handsome?”
“Well, yeah. And tall. Very tall. But I don’t think ‘seven-foot alien bondage daddy with a spaceship and a taste for leashes’ was ever on the bingo card.”
I chuckle, the sound low and painful in my throat, but real. “Bondage daddy?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what you are,” she murmurs, poking my side gently. “You collared me, dragged me across the galaxy, and now you’ve got me snuggling up to you in a medical bed like a lovesick idiot.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head, her wild hair tickling my lips. “And you’re still here.”
“Yeah. I’m still here.” Her voice is soft. “Because you didn’t give up. Because you saved me. Saved Jasmine. Because somehow, against all odds, this insane, blood-soaked mess led me to you.”
I don’t speak. I just hold her tighter.
She nestles in closer, voice fading to a whisper. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try not to blow myself up more than once a week,” I say.
She chuckles, but the sound is wet with tears.
We lie like that for a while. Her breathing evens out. Mine matches hers.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t dream of blood or vengeance.
I dream of her.