Page 15 of Wanted by the Alien Warden (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #4)

15

TASHA

W arden Tenn’s driving made me think of an Old-Earth phrase. “Like a bat out of hell.”

I didn’t believe in hell, and I’d never seen a bat, but there didn’t seem to be any comparison more apt than a crazed winged creature flying as fast as possible because it was being pursued by some great evil.

At first, it was terrifying. It was all I could to do hold on tight and not puke inside my helmet. The land was a blur beneath us. In dizzying contrast, the sky seemed not to move at all above.

But after the first few heart-stopping kilometres (or maybe dozens of kilometres, because holy Terra, who knew how fast this thing was going?) things began to subtly shift from Oh God I’m going to throw up and die to OK maybe I’m just going to throw up to This is actually sort of fun.

Fun. I was having fun . With the alien warden in charge of an entire province of convicted cowboy murderers.

Not something I had on my bingo card.

But there was no denying it. My cheeks ached from the smile splitting my face behind the helmet’s visor. The previous nausea in my stomach transformed into zippy little flips and flops that I actually felt echo in my clit. And because we were hovering, despite the chaotic speed, the ride was very smooth.

Warden Tenn’s back was hot and hard against my chest, and when I wasn’t scanning the horizon ahead, I was dazzled by the muscle-popping, vein-throbbing sight of his exposed forearms as he gripped the handlebars and steered the slicer with practised ease. Though I couldn’t see it, I was deliriously aware of his ass between my thighs. The only uncomfortable bit now was the small metal hook on the back of his belt that was digging into my belly. I considered that a small price to pay for the experience I was currently having.

Fun. Seriously. Who’d a thunk it?

We didn’t slow down until the sun began to set, becoming wide and orange as it sank through the sky. Warden Tenn steered us into a scraggly stand of trees, guided the slicer back down to the ground, then cut the engines.

“Stay here,” he said, dismounting.

“Alright,” I croaked, pretending to merely agree with him. As if my legs hadn’t gone to jelly about an hour ago and my chest wasn’t currently breathless with giddiness. My whole body trembled. If I tried to get off this thing now, I’d be on my ass faster than the warden could say “hindquarters.”

Warden Tenn took some time inspecting the area he’d chosen for our camp. When he seemed satisfied, he returned to the slicer and began taking things out of the storage compartment at the back.

“No sign of ardu holes or genka activity. This will do for tonight.” He dropped the bags on the ground, then pulled out what looked like a big bundle of leather wrapped around poles. While I tried to figure out how to get the helmet off with my noodle arms, Warden Tenn got to work assembling what I quickly came to realize was a tent.

One tent. As in, singular. The opposite of plural.

And definitely the opposite of what you’d need for two people.

If any situation had ever called for a plurality of tents, it was this one, damnit!

My exuberance from the ride was instantly doused like a flame under cold water. I could practically hear the hiss.

“Is that for you?” I called over once I’d gotten the helmet off.

“It’s for us,” he replied, grunting as he pulled the leather for the tent taut.

Us.

Together.

In the tent.

The singular tent.

“Um. That’s alright,” I stammered. “You don’t have to share with me.”

He stopped then to give me a look that told me very clearly he was questioning my sanity.

“I’m not about to make you sleep outside,” he replied.

“Alright…” I said. I licked my dry lips. “You know, I was chatting with Magnolia more earlier. Before I fell asleep on that chair. She said Garrek gave her his tent to use when they were travelling, and he slept outside.”

He snorted. “I’m not sleeping outside.”

“Why not? Garrek did.”

His orange eyes flared briefly white. He finished up with the tent and closed the distance between us with big strides.

“Because I’m not Garrek,” he growled. “I’m the warden.”

“So, what, that makes you captain of the tent, then?”

“It makes me captain of everything.” His fangs gleamed in the dwindling light. “Including you.”

Ooh. Insufferable man.

I sighed, forcing myself to be calm. I was probably asking for too much. It was his tent, after all. I hadn’t come here with any supplies of my own. Maybe I needed to be a little less argumentative and a little more grateful.

“Sorry. I do appreciate it. It’s just… I worry that it’s not exactly… Appropriate.”

I expected some kind of instant, sassy retort, but none came. Instead, his eyes burned white again. It was extra noticeable as the darkness of evening gathered. He hesitated, and I was struck by the realization that he had probably already realized it was inappropriate.

He wasn’t even trying to deny it.

Instead, he coughed a bit and then said, “I need to finish your pants.”

Pants. He meant the pyjama pants. My palms grew damp. Blood rushed to my face.

That’s how he was planning to sidestep the whole appropriateness issue.

By making sure I had some fucking pants on while we shared that teeny tiny tent.

I suppose some pants are better than no pants, at least…

Would the warden wear pants?

Oh, God.

While Warden Tenn got to work sewing, I eased myself off the slicer once I was sure my legs wouldn’t give out. I found a private spot to pee, cleaned my hands, then returned to see that he’d brought out what looked like some dried meat and pickled vegetables.

“There’s water, too,” he said, aiming his tail towards a huge leather waterskin while he sewed.

“Thank you,” I said. I opened it up and chugged, panting by the time I finally closed the lid. I was a lot thirstier than I’d realized. Water dribbled down my chin, and as I reached up to touch that wetness, I caught the warden staring. I grimaced, self-conscious, as I wiped it away, wondering what he thought. I felt so… messy in front of him. Unprepared and unpolished. And it wasn’t just because of the spilled water.

It was because of everything. It was because of me .

He’d told me earlier that anyone with eyes would see that I was good at my job. That praise had made my insides go into absolute freefall. A terrifying, head-over-heels pleasure much like the slicer ride. But I didn’t want to let myself give into it.

So, instead, I just sat down and ate my dinner.

“What do you know about the men we’re going to visit in Warden Hallum’s province?” I asked between bites.

“Very little,” he admitted as his needle dipped and flowed. “I know there are currently three convicts under Warden Hallum’s supervision. Their names are Dorn, Xennet, and Rivven. None of them have convict-wards.”

Three men to meet. That wasn’t too overwhelming.

“I’ve been wondering,” Warden Tenn said. He paused to bite off his thread before continuing. “Are there any diplomatic implications of the information that was withheld from you about the men’s pasts? Are there any higher human authorities who are included in your decision-making about whether the program will continue?”

“Not really,” I told him. I took another swig of water, making sure not to dribble any this time. “This program wasn’t arranged between two government bodies. I’m actually employed by a corporation based on Elora Station. They specialize in selling travel services and advertising space. The Zabrian Empire hired them to coordinate this project. And they hired me.”

That made me think, though…

What if I decided the program shouldn’t go ahead?

And instead of making any kind of difference, I simply got fired and replaced with someone else who’d do the work in my stead?

Somebody who didn’t care as much as I did?

“I see,” Warden Tenn said, interrupting the suddenly sour turn of my thoughts. “And how long have you held your current position?”

“Almost seven months, now. I spent a few months getting the advertising sorted out, communicating with the empire, organizing travel plans, and writing that book, of course.”

“And you like your work?”

“I… I do,” I replied, a little surprised and flattered that he seemed so interested, not solely in my job and how it would pertain to his men, but in me. My feelings about it all. “I mean, it’s definitely the best job I’ve ever had.”

At least, it was before I had to deal with the stress of unwittingly sending human women off to potentially get chopped up by alien axe murderers…

“You’ve had other jobs before this?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Nobody gets by on Terratribe I without working. Unless you’re, like, some rich politician’s wife or something. I worked in a shuttle engine factory for more than ten years. I did everything I could to move from the assembly floor into staffing, and I took night classes on subjects like communications and business. All that experience helped get me my role on Elora Station as the human-Zabrian liaison for this program.”

Warden Tenn tilted his head slightly as he regarded me. His eyes deepened to umber and amber now that the sun’s last rays were disappearing.

“You have worked very hard.”

Ah. Poop. That should not make me feel like I wanted to weep. I really needed him to go back to the annoying warden instead of this serious, sincere, I see you, Tasha , warden.

“Haha,” I chuckled awkwardly, trying to disguise my wet, sniffly inhale. “Yeah. I did. I wanted to do whatever it took to get off Terratribe I and build a new life on Elora Station.”

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

“And you’ve succeeded.”

“Ah, yup.”

Why did that feel like a lie?

“I, too, have succeeded in one much smaller and less impressive feat,” he said. He stood and shook out the shiny pants. “Here you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” I said, scrambling to my feet to take the newly completed garment. “I’ll go try them on. You should eat,” I said, using the pants as a sort of flag, flapping them in the direction of the food he hadn’t yet touched. I clutched the pants close to my chest with one arm, scooped up my bag with the other, and scurried into the tent.

Between the lack of sun outside and the substantial leather walls of the tent, it took ages for my eyes to adjust. Eventually, I could make out just enough in the gloom to get my pyjamas on, the completed set.

Oh, boy. I wanted to cry again. The pyjamas were the whisper of heaven on my skin.

It was like getting hugged by a fucking baby angel.

What is it with me and baby angels these days? And bats out of hell?

You’d think the warden was some ancient demon or fallen god, with all the symbolism my stupid brain was coming up with.

“Tasha?” Warden Tenn’s voice drifted through the muffling leather. “Let me know if I may enter. I cannot knock upon the tent as you directed me to do with the door. I fear it will fall down.”

I laughed quietly, then halted.

Was that a note of concern I detected in his voice?

“Everything fits,” I called. “No worries there.”

I exited the tent, intending to help him clean up a bit, only to find he’d already eaten and put everything away. I picked up my waterskin and used some of the water to wash my face, then got out the toothbrush and paste Darcy gave me, scrubbing my teeth.

As I got ready for bed, the warden did the same. Only, his version involved being very hot and half-naked. I gaped, my toothbrush stilling against my molars, as he stripped out of his uniform’s shirt. Packed muscle rippled and tensed beneath his hide, the colour turned a velvety indigo under the light of the three moons and stars. He doused his face and ears with water, then swiped the moisture along the hard planes and muscled curves of his abdomen and chest.

Then, his hands went to his belt.

Oh fuck.

I spat out the toothpaste, clumsily rinsed my brush (nearly soaking my own boots in the process), and sprinted for the tent. I skidded inside it just as I heard the click of a metal buckle and the sound of a big warden’s trousers hitting the ground.

I can’t believe he was going to drop his pants right in front of me.

I can’t believe I’m not horrified.

If anything, I was almost beginning to regret my hasty exit. I could have taken a little longer with my teeth. Maybe gotten a better look at what Darcy and Cherry had tried so hard to draw last night…

No. Bad Tasha!

You were the one going on and on about what’s appropriate!

I put down my things in the tent, breathing hard. I sat down on top of some kind of leathery bedding, pulled off my boots, and set them outside while being very careful not to look at anything going on out there.

A few minutes later, I heard the rustle of fabric.

Then, he came inside.

“Do you have pants on?” I squeaked.

“Of course. Why? Would you prefer I took them off?”

“No! Sorry! I just… I saw you start to take them off outside…”

“I cleaned up and put on a fresh pair.”

“Ah. Of course. Thank you.”

“‘Thank you?’ You are thanking me for putting on clean trousers?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know.” Holy hell, I needed to stop talking now. Of course, I didn’t. Because that’s what a sane person would have done and, obviously, I was no longer included in that demographic. “Thank you for the pyjamas, Warden Tenn. They’re amazing.”

He was nothing but the barest hint of a silhouette in the darkness.

Until his eyes went bright white.

“You don’t have to call me warden,” he said. “You can just call me Tenn.”

My stomach flipped.

“I don’t know. That seems a little…”

“Inappropriate?” he said wryly.

“Maybe?”

It was probably stupid to keep worrying about that. Even though he’d put on pants, the man was shirtless as he lowered himself down beside me. We were about to spend the night together, for better or for worse.

He stretched out on his back, his hands behind his head. His eyes either went back to their original colour, or he closed them. I couldn’t tell which, but either way, the white light vanished.

I thought he’d maybe already gone to sleep when he suddenly spoke.

“What would it take,” he asked quietly, “to get you comfortable enough with me to simply call me by my name?”

“I… I don’t know. Time, I guess?”

He chuckled softly.

“Perfect,” he said, throaty and warm. “I’ve got nothing but time out here, Tasha. And if you want it, I can give you it all.”