Page 67 of The Alien's Little Sister

My nieces are taking turns holding the babies, absorbed in the tiny horns and tails and scales, and some of my nephews are curious too. Having alien children present has kept the human broods quiet and well-behaved, which is a perk no one could have anticipated but everyone appreciates.

My mom commandeers my kitchen and proceeds to empty my fridge of ingredients, beginning to make sandwiches and every other quick dish she can. This serves two purposes: my fridge will have less in it that they’ll either have to take to their homes or throw out, and we’re fulfilling the unspoken rule that during any gathering, food must be provided or we’ll shame our ancestors.

People and aliens begin to eat, and during one of my trips from my room to the door where we’re setting a pile of our stuff, I notice that the camera guy has entered my place, taking up a spot on a loveseat, the woman in a headset beside him, with the lawyer perched on the arm of the sofa nearest to them.

I give them a speculative look as I pull out my wallet, and thumb through it, making sure it’s just cash. Which won’t do me any good on Inara’s planet. It and all my banking information are going to my mom. When I find an ancient condom, I roll my eyes and flick it into the trash. I’d say Inara and I really could have used this, but one rubber wouldn’t have done us much good and probably woulda popped and got us in the same place we are now anyway.

Not that I’m complaining. One of the babies makes an alien burble that has all the humans cooing in delight. I smirk.Nope, not complaining at all.

“Relax,” the headset woman whispers to the camera guy. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sheorderedyou to—”Whisper, whisper.However she finishes that curious statement, I miss it.

The man nods weakly, looking vaguely ill.

“I’ve seen these three before,” I mutter to myself. “I know it. Hey, Mom? Catch.” I toss her my wallet.

Expertly, my mom slaps a slice of bread on a massively stacked sandwich and effortlessly snags my wallet out of the air like she’s a catcher for the White Sox.

She looks at it in her hand, and her eyes go red.

I’m about to go to her, but she waves me off, sniffing and urging me to get a move on. “Go pack!”

Inara, exiting the bedroom, heard my comment from a moment before with her crazy-good ears, and not only does she glance over at the trio I was muttering about, her nostrils flare, scenting them. And then her eyes widen.“You,”she says with some accusation as she drags her overstuffed bag in the direction of the front door.

One of her brothers stands from the sofa to help her, but I’m already to her and taking the handle.

Her head whips to me, and to my surprise, she doesn’t release her luggage.

“I’ve got it,” I tell her.

“No, no,” she insists—and she drops her eyes, biting her lip. “Go back to what you were doing.”

“Okaaay…” I narrow my gaze on her. But fine, whatever. If she insists on struggling with it, she’s got her reasons. I open my hand, letting her have her bag. Then I reach up to slide my hand into her hair strands, hold her fast, and tug her to me for a kiss.

And the travel bag—which is stuffed to the gills—busts open.

Clothes pop out of the massively split seam, which isn’t surprising.

But sticks and sticks of gum rain down from the newly blown opening. And this? Thisissurprising. So is the strong scent of coffee, which is suddenly wafting from the busted bag.

“What in the hell…” I ask, flummoxed.

Kids laugh behind us, my impressionable nephews and nieces.

“Matthew…” my mother warns from her matronly domain, the kitchen.

“Sorry, Ma. What in theheck.”

Inara is wincing, and she chances a glance up at me.

“You’ve been stealing my gum?” I ask.

She hunches a little. “It’s…hoarding.”

At her minute shrug, more gum spills out, slapping to the floor.

I’m shaking my head, lightly disbelieving. “Here I was, thinking I was going crazy. Because it was like all my gum was walking off before I could chew it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s a compulsion I wasn’t prepared for. It happens with males who are pining for more of their mate. I don’t know why I’ve been driven to—”

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