Page 65 of The Alien's Little Sister

I suck a breath in through my teeth. “Not really, sweethearts. But I’ll be fine.”

It’s Inara’s brother who offers me a hand up.

Craning my neck back to pin his scary ass face with a look, I firmly accept it.

He hauls me to my feet in a millisecond, exerting zero effort.

His lethal eyes appraise me. His scales glitter, at first appearing to be opaque white, but then flashing with reds, and blues, and greens, and yellows. Like an opal stone, he’s shimmery, stunning. And perhaps like a very big opal stone, he looks like he could easily crush me to death. Instead of that happening though, he cuts his glance down, training it on the human woman who's taken hold of his arm.

“Arokh, babe,” she warns him calmly, “We’re really starting to pull in a crowd. Maybe it’s time to take this family reunion inside?”

“Agreed,” I say, seeing the way rubberneckers are clogging up the sidewalk on the edge of our parking lot, some of them holding up cell phones, filming. Maybe they’re not approaching because Inara’s brothers look scary as fuck, but whatever the reason, we should probably get a move on.

One of Inara’s other brother’s sighs, and grumbles, “Your mate gives wise advice. We may want to avoid killing him in the open.”

“Okay,” I hear Elaine, my sister, say. “I’ve said for a long time that I hoped Matthew would get a taste of his own overprotective, overbearing medicine one day...”

“Yep, I’ve said the same thing,” Kaley murmurs.

Kate’s making a face, watching me, worried. “I’m not enjoying it like I thought I would,” she shares, like this is a big revelation.

“Is your shoulder okay?” Kerry asks, because she’s the sweet one.

My mom is beside Inara, watching me, worried. “How bad are you hurt, Matthew?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Nothing’s really broken,” I assure her.

“Human,” says the alien who crunched my shoulder, addressing me. “I am Arokh, Inara’s littermate.” His tail is wrapped around his mate. “This is my Angie.” He tugs her close and wraps her up in his arms.

“Hi,” she says with a wry smile. Then she tips her head. “Over there, those are our beautiful baby girls being carried by their uncle Kennox.”

Kennox is as big as an ox; basically Arokh, but yellow. His horns are thick and curling, his tail is snapping behind him, and he’s eyeballing me like my hands are covered in grease and I’ve put them all over his little sister.

The kids he’s holding are… wow. Old enough to walk on their own, but I can see why they’re being carried in the harnesses that are strapped on their huge-ass uncle’s chest: this is a big, busy city and they’re tiny. All over, they are just the littlest things. Feminine features too, unlike Tahmoh and Janet’s Verow. They’ve got slightly bigger horns, twisty ones that bud up from their temples, itty bitty colorful scales, and tails. And like Verow’s, the tails are cute. Seeing four alien babies is a sweet punch to my system, preparing me for what a human and an alien make:cuteness.Since Inara is lovely and gorgeous where her brothers are absolutely not, our kid is bound to come out killer adorable, for real.

Inara purrs at me, seeing the way I’m admiring the lineup of little kids. Her tail wraps lovingly around my ankle, sending my sock down into my shoe like it likes to do.

“The male on the far end with the fire scales is Rudá,” she informs me, taking over the introductions. “Kawkawlin is the plum-colored, Ithiel is the emerald, and…” she finishes weakly as the largest of them all approaches us—her, looking like he wants to spank her ass or strangle her, “...this is Zadeon.”

“The brother whose ride you stole?” I ask her.

“The very same,” she squeaks as he spears her with a dangerous look.

He’s a massive skyscraper of an alien. He looms over me like a nightmare come to life, his scales bright as polished brass. Like one of those Sicilian Brazen Bulls.

(If you’ve never heard of the alleged torture devices, you should look ‘em up. Formed of hollow bronze, they were so big you could stuff prisoners inside the belly, light a fire under the bull, and roast the accused alive.)

Zadeon is exhaling smoke from his nostrils, and as he glares down at me from his incredible height, I can admit that a lesser man would be nervous. I’m not a lesser man, and God knows, I’m nervous.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say. “I’d offer my hand for a shake, but I can’t because someone crushed it.”

My shoulder, but semantics.

I send a direct stare up at him. Not being challenging, just letting him know that I’m not buckling under his intimidation.

My gaze drops from Zadeon’s killer face to what—who—he’s holding.

Not toning down his lethalness at all, cupped between his massive hands is a tiny body. A tiny toddler’s body. Dark scales, big luminous eyes trained on us, and he’s wearing the world’s tiniest t-shirt, one that readsI’m always getting picked up by cute chicks.He’s being worn in a front-carrying harness just like the other babies, one that lets him ride right up against his dad’s hearts. And instead of continuing to glare at me, Zadeon transfers his attention to mymom.“Would you like to see him?” he asks, his broad thumb brushing over his son’s hornless head.

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