Page 11 of Doom

“You were having one of those mental conversations, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, looking smug. “Let’s go find your patients.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped. Eyes bulging, she appeared frozen in time for the space of a moment. And then she threw herself against me, pushing up on her tiptoes and urging my head down a bit with her hands around my neck, to smack a loud kiss on my cheek.

She pulled away before I even had a chance to close my arms around her. Clapping her hands, Victoria said aloud, “Thank you!” then hurried out of the shuttle, mumbling something about her medical bag.

But before she turned and walked away, I saw the delightful pink of her cheeks and of her aura.

I grinned.

Chapter 3

Victoria

Icouldn’t believe I’d just kissed him like that. A couple of hours ago, I thought he and his friends were about to have me for lunch or challenge each other to see how many pieces they could hack me into with their crazy scythe-arms. And now, my brain kept tilting at the sight of all that male perfection—correction, of all that ‘naked’ male perfection. Granted, between his scales and loin plate, he almost looked like he was wearing some kind of suit. His rock hard, chiseled abs, devoid of any scales, however, reminded me all too well of his nakedness.

And let’s not talk about his behind.

Okay, let’s. I’d never understood women’s obsession with a man’s bottom, until today. When Doom turned around, there was no question he wasn’t wearing anything. And those firm, round, and muscular butt cheeks kept tempting me to reach out and grab.

Everything about his regular form was sheer perfection. Being 5’9”, I’d always been attracted to tall men. Doom not only checked that box but also all the other ones I’d never consciously realized were hiding on my list. With his mountains of muscles, the bulging, lickable veins on his arms, his heavenly face with those delicious lips, all that combined with a sweet, caring personality—he had my ovaries doing backflips.

I couldn’t quite understand why he affected me so dramatically when his friends, just as gorgeous, didn’t stir me. Could it be the numerous scars on his body while his brothers didn’t seem to bear any? Most of the scars looked quite a few years old—some of them hinting at life-threatening injuries. It made me wonder at his age. He appeared to be about the same as me—late twenties, early thirties—but he spoke of multiple intergalactic battles. Did his people age differently than humans, or had he started battling at a very young age?

Mind still reeling, I fetched my medical bag under the amused stares of the other alien warriors. I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was competing with the redness of my hair.

Little Red.

Being a redhead, I’d been called a lot of things, from ginger to carrot top; all of which I’d hated. But hearing Doom call me “Little Red” did funny things to me. It wasn’t only the sexy rumbling of his deep voice as the words rolled over his tongue, it was also the almost possessive way in which he said it.

I reined in my wandering thoughts as Doom stepped out of the shuttle. To my great disappointment, he’d put on a pair of black boots, pants, and a t-shirt that fit him like a second skin. A huge blaster hung from the weapons belt fastened to his waist. He still looked as scrumptious as before, but I missed the basically naked eye-candy. He didn’t come straight to me but opened an inconspicuous hatch on the side of the shuttle, revealing a large storage space. From there, he retrieved a sleek, high-tech, black motorcycle.

Despite having wheels, the bike hovered a couple of inches as Doom led it by one of its handlebars.

“Nice!” I said, ogling the bike with envy.

I wasn’t wild and reckless on the road, but I enjoyed the occasional bike ride. This one promised an out-of-this-world experience, pun very much intended.

“I will ride alongside your vehicle so that I can intervene quickly if the bugs show up,” Doom said.

“Won’t your clothes get in the way of shifting to that badass combat shape of yours?” I asked as we marched towards the van.

“It would get torn off during the shift, yes,” Doom said with a shrug, though his eyes sparked with mischief.

Those eyes fascinated me. Like the Kryptids, he possessed almond-shaped, larger-than-human eyes, which reminded me of the little grey men of lore. However, they weren’t multifaceted like the bugs’. His eyes were an endless, shiny pool of black ink, without pupils or sclera. Technically, it should have been impossible to know exactly where he was looking, and yet, I always knew without question what Doom was staring at. Maybe the way he narrowed his eyelids, quirked his brows, or tilted his head helped give it away.

“You almost sound disappointed,” Doom continued. “And here I thought you’d be pleased I would no longer offend your sensibilities.”

“Your nakedness didn’t offend me,” I mumbled, walking faster so he couldn’t see the heat creeping up my cheeks again. His nakednesshadaffected me … in many naughty ways. “I’m a doctor. I see naked people all the time. It doesn’t faze me.”

Except none of them even come close to your lethal level of sexiness.

“Ah, excellent!” Doom replied jovially, playing along. “Should I strip again, then?”

YES!

This time, my cheeks all but burst into flames, a telltale sign of my true feelings even as I answered in the negative. “No, that won’t be necessary. It will be less awkward when you meet the others at the hospital.”

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