Читать книгу Cyborg's Secret Baby - Grace Goodwin - Страница 8

Jorik

She turned bright red and her smile faded a bit as she turned away from me and found some busy work behind the counter.

I’d pushed her far enough for one day, I supposed. My beast growled in disagreement as I moved to sit down in a seat in the corner, far from both her and the door. I turned my chair so I could pretend not to notice as her glance wandered to me over and over. My beast fought me, hard, but I was not an animal. Not yet. I didn’t want her afraid.

I wanted her hungry. Hot. Ready for my touch and my cock.

That first day, she’d offered me a hand-held food cone filled with vanilla ice cream. The next day, chocolate. Each day I visited, she gave me a new flavor. After weeks of visiting, I hadn’t tried all the possibilities. I didn’t give a shit about them. All I cared about was seeing her smile at my arrival, the brush of our fingers as she passed me the dessert which was meant to offer cooling relief from the hot Florida air.

I wouldn’t cool. Not until she was mine. Until I sank into her, filled her with my seed. Claimed her.

I was content. For now. We talked; each day I learned more about her. An only child, she had lived in Florida her entire life. Her parents were dead, although she didn’t share details of their demise. The ice cream store was not hers, she was the manager. Her dream was to own her own store, rather than work for another, although I learned she did not have the wealth to follow that passion.

This made her vulnerable. Working for another. Dependent on that human’s attitude or whim. I did not like knowing my female was at the mercy of another for survival.

No. I would win her. Claim her. I would take care of her.

If she’d have me.

But not here. We could not mate and live on Earth. The human government would not allow such a union. She would need to be willing to leave Earth behind forever. Her life. Her neighbor’s orange cat, whose photo was taped to the wall behind the register. I had discovered the creature was called Pumpkin—named after an Earth vegetable of the same color.

The fact that a scratching, hissing creature that killed small mammals and birds would be her favorite pet gave me hope that she could learn to love my beast as well.

If not for Gabriela—I loved knowing her name and rolled it around in my mind—I had no reason to return to Atlan. A few cousins were all the family I had. The promise of wealth and riches, estates awarded to a Warlord who had been lucky enough to survive both the Hive and his Mating Fever. I would be wealthy, if I returned home. I could care for her on Atlan, make her happy. Give her a palace and fine clothes, servants to clean the dishes, rather than see her hands rough and reddened from such hard work. I wanted to give her enough money to pursue her passion now. Here. But I had none. I was not paid in Earth funds and Atlan currency was meaningless here. We were given an odd, striped plastic card that the human retailers accepted for payments.

Money or not, her dreams became mine. I wanted to fulfill her desires. I knew. My beast knew.

She was mine and I would have her.

Nothing would stand in my way.

Content to simply be in the same space with her, I enjoyed the sensation of the cold little candy bears heating in my mouth and sticking to my teeth. We had nothing like this ice cream treat on Atlan, and I discovered a liking for the shocking combination of freeze and sweetness exploding on my tongue. I relaxed, exactly where I wanted to be.

The human criminal did not check the corner when he entered the store with the small weapon in his hand.

It would be his last mistake.

Humans called the primitive projectile firing weapon a gun. It was basic. Prone to misfiring. Loud and had limited range and shooting capabilities.

All in all, the small silver metal weapon was inferior in every way. But it could kill my female.

Gabriela saw him at once, and the look on my sweet female’s face as she stood behind the machine that held Earth money made my beast surge forward before I even thought to regain control. Her cheeks, usually flushed pink, went pale. Her eyes were wide and held fear. Her body shook and not with laughter.

I noticed this in the blink of an eye. The door was close to her position. Too close. In less than a second, the male gripped her shoulder with one hand. In the other, he held the gun to her forehead. They both stood behind the low counter where she normally accepted payment from customers.

Tall, for an Earth male, dark hair peeked out from his billed hat. An oversized T-shirt only accentuated how thin he was. I could snap him like a twig. Blue pants worn by most humans drooped about his waist. Markings covered both his arms. Tattoos, I’d learned, with odd pictures and images on them. He was much larger than Gabriela, his grip sure, his intent obvious.

“Jorik!” she cried, her eyes widening as I approached. She was quaking, trying to tilt her head away from the gun. “Run.”

Run? As in leave? Now? With her like this? Being threatened? My fists clenched at the thought of her trying to save me. Me! While I was dressed in my Coalition uniform, I wasn’t armed. But I didn’t need a weapon to help her.

His gun was nothing like an ion pistol, but I knew it could kill, especially pressed to her head. Earth was a primitive place. Without ReGen wands or pods, people died from bullet wounds all the time. My Gabriela could not survive such an injury.

My beast rose and I felt myself growing bigger, taller. Broader. This… this… asshole threatened what was mine?

When he saw me, his eyes widened.

I grinned. He might think to intimidate a small female, but he was no match for me. He could empty the entire contents of his primitive weapon into my body, and unless he blew a hole in my head, I’d still tear him in two.

“You dare threaten my woman?” I asked, my voice half-growl because of my beast.

“This ain’t about you.” A sneer turned up the corner of his mouth. “I want money, and she’s going to give it to me.”

“You want nothing. You’re already dead.”

“No.” He shook his head, as if any other outcome was an option. “I just want the money, man. No harm, no foul.” As I neared, he shook even more violently than Gabriela. Still, he wasn’t a complete fool. He kept the gun pressed to her skull, rather than pointed at me. The moment she was clear of that threat, he would die.

“You touched her, hold a gun to her head,” I said, stating the obvious, and the reason he was going to die.

“You’re one of those fucking aliens,” he said, finally turning the gun to point at me. Not so smart after all.

My beast became more enraged, eager to end this. My skin stretched, my focus sharpened.

Kill. Maim. Destroy.

“I am.” My voice was deeper, my beast taking over.

“Are you… are you growing?” His eyes raked over me, his hand shook.

I took a step toward him. “I am Atlan. Do you know what that means?”

He gave a jerky shake of his head, then pulled Gabriela in front of him. A human shield. She cried out at the action, her eyes closed tightly as a soft whimper of pain escaped. I knew he’d hurt her and I growled.

“It means I have an inner beast. One who doesn’t like when my female is threatened.”

“Beast?” he said. His brain processed my words, and he looked at Gabriela for a few seconds and then shoved her away. Hard.

She fell to the floor, landing with a loud thud behind the counter where I could no longer see her. She groaned, her breathing short and panicked.

Unacceptable.

“Beast,” I repeated, all snarl. I was no longer in control. My inner animal had taken over. I was fully transformed. One word was all I could manage.

The foolish human fired his weapon, the bullet moving through the air quickly, but not fast enough. My beast moved out of the way, and I reached out, ripped the gun from his hand, then ripped his screaming head from his body.

Gabriela Olivas Silva, Miami, FL

My ears rang and I could hear Jorik’s voice on the other side of the counter. Then the robber’s.

The gun went off.

Then a scream—a terrible scream—cut short by the sound of… I didn’t want to think about what that sound was. My head hurt too much where I’d whacked it on the counter on my way down. I was going to have a bump, but luckily, that seemed to be my only injury. I’d be fine if my heart wasn’t beating so hard I feared it would explode right out of my chest.

A gun. That asshole had held a gun to my head. He could have… would have…

“Gabriela?”

Jorik’s voice interrupted my panic attack, and I tried to sit up without looking like an idiot, which is what I felt like. That robber had been hanging around here, scoping out the joint, for the last two days. I’d known something was up yesterday when he came in early and asked to use the restroom. I should have said no. But he looked like he could use a break. Torn shirt. Ripped jeans. Shoes with a hole in the toe and mismatched laces. His hair had been dirty and unkempt. He looked homeless, which he probably was, and I’d always had a soft spot for broken things.

Animals, mainly. But I’d made an exception yesterday—and lived to regret it. Animals didn’t lie, or cheat, or say mean things. They just did the best they could. People, on the other hand? People were dangerous.

Apparently, so were aliens.

“Gabriela?” His hands were on me before I could get my bearings, lifting me off the dirty floor mats like I weighed no more than a feather.

Another laughable thought. I giggled, letting him pull me to my feet, then against his chest… which seemed… higher than it should be. I giggled again, knew my nearly hysterical outburst was due to some kind of shock, but I didn’t care. Until I saw the blood. On Jorik. Not a lot, but that jerk had fired a gun at the big alien. Had Jorik been shot? For me?

“Jorik? Are you all right?” I shoved against him, but I might as well have been pushing at a two-ton brick wall. Sure, I was a big woman. I loved ice cream, and it showed… everywhere. But I couldn’t budge him. “Let me go. You’re hurt.”

His laugh wasn’t a laugh, really, but a rumble against my ear. “No. You hurt.”

Blinking away my confusion, I wondered if I was hearing things, or if Jorik—smiling, teasing, charming Jorik—had suddenly lost the ability to speak in complete sentences. Maybe he was bleeding to death. “Jorik, I’m serious. I need to make sure you’re all right.”

“No. Where live? I take care you.”

“Where do I live?” I repeated.

“Yes.” I was cradled in his arms now, his huge, huge hand coming up to press my cheek to his chest when we walked by what I assumed was the robber’s dead body. That was just fine with me. I didn’t want to see what that rending sound had led to.

“My apartment is only a couple blocks away. I’m fine. Put me down. I can walk.”

“No.”

Fine. The truth of the matter was I didn’t much feel like walking anyway. I was still freaked out that I’d had a gun pressed to my temple, an asshole had been stalking me for the last two days, and if Jorik hadn’t come in when he did, I could have been killed. That thought made my heart race again, and I couldn’t breathe, my chest too tight.

As if he could sense how I felt, Jorik’s free hand stroked the side of my head and face, even as he walked. I felt like a pampered kitten and I didn’t even want to fight. Jorik was big, strong, and sexy as hell. I knew he was a guard at the Bride Processing Center. I’d seen him stationed at the gates on most days when I walked to work. I had done enough research to know he was from a planet called Atlan. He was a beast—whatever that meant. But he didn’t seem like a monster to me. He had black hair and dark skin, like a younger, bigger Dwayne Johnson. The Rock would be a good nickname for Jorik as well. And his eyes? Lord help me, his eyes were textbook bedroom eyes. All sex and teasing and secrets.

He’d been coming into the shop every day for the last few weeks, and I had begun to hope that it wasn’t for the food.

But who was I to think such a thing? He was an alien warrior, trusted to guard one of the most important alien facilities on Earth. The processing center here in Miami was the hub for both Interstellar Brides and soldier recruitment for the Coalition Fleet. There were only seven sites in the world, and the aliens who ran them guarded them like they were made of pure gold.

I’d seen aliens from Prillon Prime, Atlan, and Everis—the ones who looked just like us. I knew there were more planets out there, but it seemed they liked to keep the freakishly huge or freakishly fast warriors on guard duty. I’d watched them, these warriors, Jorik most of all, as they wrestled or played their odd sport games within the walls of the compound. The Everians could move so fast I would lose track of them and reminded me of television vampires. The Prillon warriors were just… odd. Pointed features. Unusually colored skin. Copper. Bronze. Golden. Most of them had shades of gold or orange colored eyes as well. They were seven feet tall and could never pass for human.

But the Atlans? They looked like superstar football or basketball players. Seven feet or taller. Jorik was ridiculously tall, dark, and a walking temptation. They all looked like sex gods, all sculpted muscle and hungry stares. Jorik, especially, had the stare down. The stare that made me feel beautiful, instead of “plus-sized”. The stare that made me want to strip naked and parade my body around in front of a male as if it were a feast for his senses rather than an embarrassment for me.

The. Stare.

He was giving it to me as he carried me to my apartment. He set me on my feet just long enough for me to pull the key from the front pocket of my shorts and unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he lifted me again. His shoulder was within reach this time, as if he’d gotten smaller on the walk, and I wondered what kind of crazy I was for thinking he’d been almost a foot taller in the store.

He kicked the door closed behind him, set me down on my feet, turned. “Lock it.”

I raised a brow but did as he said. It made me feel safer, which was just dumb. Nothing would get through him. And anything that could would have no problem with the flimsy wooden door.

His grunt was accompanied by a hint of a grin, and I saw the charming man—alien—I’d grown comfortable talking to every day in the shop. The shop… “Shit. We have to call the police. The owner. Oh, my God. I shouldn’t have left like that. She’s going to be freaked. And what if customers come in?”

Want some pecan praline with that dead body?

I covered my face with my hands. “Oh, my God. What am I going to do?”

Jorik reached for me, to stop my pacing. I faced him and he lifted his hands, as if to touch my face. But his glance strayed from my eyes to his palms and he cursed in that strange language again. “I will not touch you again with blood on my hands.”

Happy to focus on his problem instead of my own, I led him to the kitchen. The naughty part of me—the part full of ideas and wishful thinking—thought of taking him to the bathroom, stripping him naked, and squeezing together in my tiny shower. But that would involve a whole lot of skin and even more assumptions on my part.

Maybe the stare was just a normal, everyday look on an alien.

And maybe I was thinking this way because I’d almost died a few minutes ago. Maybe this was shock.

I watched as the most amazing, gorgeous hunk of male perfection I’d ever seen—in real life or digital—stripped out of his shirt in the middle of my tiny kitchen.

Definitely not shock. I wanted him. Had for a while. I thought about him all the time, wondered if he would appear in my shop every day, was ridiculously happy when he did.

He scrubbed his hands in my sink and he looked like what he was—foreign. I’d never had a man in this apartment, let alone one the size of Jorik. His head nearly reached the ceiling tiles and he had to duck under the one, ugly fluorescent light cover filled with half a dozen dead flies.

Embarrassing. But I hated flies, and I hated cleaning even more. By the time I left the ice cream shop spotless at the end of every shift, I just didn’t have the energy to drag out a ladder and tackle that kind of thing.

Besides. Chest. There was chest. And shoulders. And oh, my god, his back. Muscles on muscles. An ass so tight it looked like two bowling balls were hiding under his pants. No one’s ass could be that hard, could it? Every inch of me was soft, everything but my bones. The idea of anyone being that solid seemed surreal, and I reached out to touch…

I snatched my hand back. Nope.

“Jeez, what’s wrong with me?” I whispered to myself as I swung away, tucked my hand safely against my side and made my way back to the door. Suddenly, double checking the deadbolt seemed like an excellent distraction from the temptation currently in my kitchen.

He washed up, the smell of dish soap and what I could only think of as him. Dark. Musky. Wild.

Fighting the urge to make a damn fool of myself, I pressed my forehead to the cool door panel and tried to think rationally. I should call my boss, the owner. She was a nice woman in her sixties who had given me a break when I needed one. She paid well and she was fair, so I’d stayed. For three years. I should call her. She would worry. She would call the police. No doubt they’d be pounding on my door soon enough. There was a security camera system at the store, so they would be able to rewind the video and find out exactly what happened. They’d want my statement. And Jorik’s. We should take care of that. Like, now.

But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to even think about it. Like, ever. I wanted to press my naked breasts to Jorik’s back, bury my nose in his skin and breathe him in. I wanted to lick him up one side and down the other, kiss him, taste him, and ride his cock until I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to have mind-blowing, amazing sex with someone I was actually attracted to for the first time in my life. No fumbling hands. No lies. No manipulation. No games. Just raw animal lust.

And that was insane because all we’d done was talk. I’d hand him a new flavor of ice cream, we’d chat as he ate the cone, then he would leave. I knew little about him and it wasn’t like he was from Kansas or California. He was from another planet. What could we have in common? What made me interested in him? Oh yeah, he was hot and it seemed I had an inner sex fiend wanting to come out.

I wanted to be an animal, at least once in my life. I wanted to have the kind of kinky, hot sex I read about in my favorite books.

I wanted Jorik. Over me. Inside me. Touching me. Making me come until I couldn’t think at all.