Page 6 of Tamed by the Alien Warlord

GEORGIA

“ I can’t believe I’m falling for a pirate,” I mutter to my reflection.

The mirror on the dressing module is smeared with someone else’s old blood, but it reflects enough of me to see the problem.

The Companion outfit barely covers anything.

I look like a space courtesan from a cheap holodrama, all lace trim and cleavage.

My thighs are bare. My arms are bare. Even my neck looks scandalous—and the Reaper collar clashes spectacularly with the jeweled necklace they want me to wear.

“What would Professor Seldin say?” I add, adjusting my top for the fifth time. “Probably, ‘At least get a good quote before he rips your shirt off.’”

Behind me, Lanz growls.

“You’ll wear something else.”

“No,” I counter, not turning. “This is what Companions wear.”

He steps into the doorway, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

“You’re not going into Earth First’s fortress looking like a pleasure pet.”

“Oh, but that’s the whole point, Captain Gritjaw,” I say, finally spinning to face him. “Dr. Nakamura ordered a Companion bride. Not a bodyguard. Not a spy. A soft-voiced, big-eyed distraction in six-inch heels.”

He stalks toward me, hands clenching. “He’ll touch you.”

“I’ll slap him.”

“He’ll expect things.”

“Then he’ll be disappointed.”

His eyes burn molten. “You’re mine.”

“Temporarily leased,” I shoot back, tilting my chin. “And this is the price for your information. If I find Jasmine, we both win.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Then strike the match, big guy.”

That stops him.

Just for a second.

Then he moves.

His hand slams against the wall beside my head, his towering form caging me in. The air crackles between us, thick and sparking. My collar pulses, the leash clipped to it still dangling from our earlier mission, half-forgotten until now. My heart beats like a war drum.

But I don’t run.

Because part of me wants him to lose this argument.

Wants him to forget all the mission plans and rules and take what he’s been holding back for too damn long.

“You’re not scared,” he says, voice dark silk threaded with threat.

“I am,” I whisper. “But not of Nakamura.”

His pupils dilate, swallowing the molten gold of his eyes. The growl he gives isn’t human. It’s Reaper . And it vibrates straight through my bones.

He grabs my hips, claws digging in just enough to make me gasp.

And then we’re kissing.

Stars above, it’s like getting hit by a meteor made of sin. His mouth crashes down on mine, hot and brutal, fangs teasing the edges of danger. His tongue is wicked, claiming me, tasting the defiance right out of my mouth. He kisses like he wants to erase every other kiss I’ve ever had.

His hands roam—possessive, rough, worshipful in their violence. He palms my ass, claws scraping over my dress, then rips it down the middle. I moan into his mouth as fabric tears like paper and falls to the floor, leaving me bare but for the collar, leash, and heels.

“You walk into another man’s room in this, and I will burn the galaxy to ash,” he snarls against my throat.

“Then fuck me like you own me.”

And he does.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing, bone spurs dragging delicious trails up the backs of my thighs as I wrap my legs around his waist. My pussy is already slick, throbbing, desperate.

I grind against the hard, ridged bulge in his pants, and I feel the flex of his cock through the fabric—thick and pulsing, with those spurs twitching, hungry.

He slams me against the wall. My wrists hit the smooth surface, helpless, useless, still caught behind me from earlier restraints. I’m pinned and straining and exactly where I want to be.

“You’re so wet,” he growls, dragging his claws up the curve of my ass to the small of my back. “Dripping. You want this.”

“I want you ,” I pant. “I want you to ruin me.”

He tears open his pants.

And I see him.

Gods. I’ll never get used to that sight. His cock is massive—midnight black, ridged with faint bioluminescence pulsing down the shaft, crowned with a flaring head and a ring of flexible, shifting bone spurs near the base that twitch when they sense my heat. Alien. Intimidating. Glorious.

“I should be gentle,” he says roughly, positioning himself between my legs. “But I won’t be.”

“I’d hate you if you were.”

That’s all the permission he needs.

He thrusts into me with one long, brutal stroke.

I scream .

Every inch stretches me beyond human limits. The spurs scrape just inside me, stroking my inner walls with textures my body was never meant to accommodate—but craves anyway. I clench around him like a vice, my pussy pulsing with every inch he claims.

He snarls and yanks the leash tight, forcing my head back as he drives deeper. His cock fills me completely, hitting some inner place that turns pain to ecstasy, fear to devotion.

“Say it,” he growls in my ear, thrusting again, harder. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I sob. “Yours, yours, yours— fuck ? — ”

His hand tangles in my red curls and he pulls , snapping my head back, baring my throat. The stretch makes me whimper, makes my pussy clench tighter. The helplessness turns me molten.

“You like that,” he says. Not a question. A fact.

“Yes. Please. Do it again?—”

He does.

Fucks me like I’m his captive bride, like I’m the prize of a blood-soaked hunt. Every stroke is a promise, every pull on the leash a demand. I feel bruises forming on my thighs where his spurs drag, and I welcome them. I want reminders tomorrow. Proof.

“You take me so fucking well,” he pants. “So tight. So hot. You were made for me.”

I sob, desperate and shaking. “Only you—only your cock?—”

He changes the angle, one hand grabbing my ass, the other gripping the leash like reins. And damn , I come undone. My orgasm hits hard and sudden, crashing through me like lightning. My vision whites out. My pussy spasms around him, milking him, coaxing his name in broken, babbled pleas.

“Lanz— fuck —I’m coming?—”

“Again,” he growls. “You’ll come again before I do. You’ll fucking shatter for me.”

He doesn’t let up. Doesn’t stop. Drives into me faster, deeper, cock pounding against my sweet spot with every punishing thrust. I sob and scream and grind against him like I’m possessed.

The second orgasm slams into me harder than the first.

My legs go numb. My vision blurs. My whole body locks and jerks around him, pleasure arcing so high it hurts .

And that’s when he loses control.

With a roar, he slams into me one final time, cock jerking, spurs locking inside me as he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. It pulses and throbs and burns , and I moan like I’ve been broken open.

We collapse to the floor, tangled and sweating, panting against each other like survivors of some sacred war.

He strokes my hair with claws that now move gently.

“Mine,” he whispers against my temple.

“Yours,” I echo, lips trembling.

Even bruised, scraped, and boneless from pleasure…

I’ve never felt more wanted .

“Say you won’t go,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“Say you’ll stop me,” I shoot back.

We breathe each other in. The air is thick with things we’re not ready to say.

Then the com beeps.

Dammit.

“Mission window in T-minus twenty,” Rix’s voice says over the channel. “Shuttle’s fueled. Comms are scrambled. Time to move.”

Lanz sets me down slowly, like his hands are reluctant to leave. “I’ll get you out if it goes bad.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll kill him.”

“I know that too.”

I grab the glittering veil that completes the look and shove it into my satchel. The dressing module door hisses open. Lanz walks beside me in silence, muscles tense under his dark armor.

We reach the launch bay.

The shuttle waiting for me looks like a child’s toy next to the Reaper warships. It’s sleek, elegant, deceptively soft. A civilian transport with a smuggler’s heart.

“She’s rigged to fly blind and run cold,” Lanz says gruffly. “Takes voice commands in Standard or Reaper. Codes are burned. No one will trace it back here.”

“Perfect,” I murmur.

We stop before the hatch. I reach for the console, but then… I can’t. Not yet.

“I need you to say something,” I whisper, turning to him.

He frowns. “What?”

“That this is going to work.”

He leans in, presses his forehead to mine. “This is going to work. Because I’m not letting anything else happen.”

The heat in my chest goes nova.

I touch his cheek. “Thank you. For saving me. And for… not stopping me.”

“You’ll owe me,” he mutters.

“Add it to my tab.”

I climb aboard. The hatch begins to close.

We watch each other through the cockpit glass.

Neither of us waves.

Neither of us smiles.

But we don’t look away—not until the lock seals between us and the stars stretch wide around me.

And for the first time, I wonder…

Am I falling in love with a Reaper?