Page 1 of Terror

Chapter 1

Tabby

Melanie, the mayor of San Diego and my next-door neighbor, and I struck a deal. After she leaves on her extended vacation, I can use her house as a venue for my nineteenth birthday party. This was before the Regha prince who rules Earth placed the city under siege and declared Silence, taking away our technology. It meant there would be no music, television, or any of the Telean tech we depend on. I bounced back from that terrible stroke of bad luck and arranged for several live bands.

After the Regha prince went “hunting”—whatever that means to him—Terror, the Hordesman who barges into homes of women like me and basically pisses on us, gifted us four hours of tech per day. Again, I rearranged, tweaked, and moved on with the party, planning to hold it during those four hours from four to eight in the evening. Not ideal, but it is what it is.

Now, I’m at ground zero. The apocalypse has come next door. A peek over the fence, and I realize I might’ve lost the venue. Hell to the no. I climb down the fence and cross my property, overgrown grass lashing at my toes. On the sidewalk, I march to Melanie’s house, through the wide-open gate, walk across her immaculate lawn, ignoring the Regha Alphas in the yard. The hellhounds they ride lounge in the shade and don’t bother me as I climb the steps and arrive at the door. I bang on it. Once, twice, ten times. If steam could come out of my ears, it would.

Melanie’s housekeeper answers the door with a smile. “Ms. Park,” she greets. Her smile drops when she registers my expression. “Can I help you?”

“Nope. I know the way.” I walk straight ahead, climb the stairs, and take a left down the hall, again ignoring the massive Alphas who, remarkably, get out of my way. Melanie’s home office door is open, and I walk inside, slamming the door with my foot.

At the desk, three aliens lift their heads from whatever alien business holograms are displayed on the desk and stare. On my right is a Telean male. Tall, gray, with black eyes and silver pupils. He wears a black space suit that shows off his lithe form. The other two are Hordesmen with humanoid ears and noses. They’re massive, green, scary, and all three Alphas in the room throw me off my game. My heart speeds up, and I fist my hands, summoning courage. “Where is my neighbor, and what have you done with her?”

Terror, the one in the middle who looks way too comfortable in Melanie’s office chair, purses his black lips. “Her who?”

“The mayor. Melanie.”

“On vacation.”

I beam. “Great. And what are you doing here?”

“Working. You?”

“My birthday party is happening.” They stare at me. “Here.” I point at the floor. “In Melanie’s house. Paid for and arranged over eight months ago.”

“Oh horrors,” the Telean deadpans.

The Hordesmen laugh.

“Are you making fun of me?” I ask the Telean.

“Likely.” Terror leans back in Melanie’s chair, black cotton T-shirt stretching over his muscular frame.

“It took months to prepare the party. I’ve been looking forward to it for years. We lost power, and I wasn’t gonna give up. I even lost twenty pounds. I—”

“That’s a pity,” the Hordesman named Fever after the Biblical horseman Pestilence interrupts with a wink.

I press on. “I invited all my high school friends, my college friends, and half the SDNU faculty. My guardians from Korea are coming, along with some of the richest people in the world, their wives, kids, pets. One thousand invites, and all of them RSVPed.”

“Impressive organizational skills,” the Telean says.

I glare at him, but if his awestruck expression is any indication, he truly is impressed with my party-planning mojo. “Thank you, sir, but that’s not the point. The house should be empty. I’m supposed to start decorating today.”

“Cancel,” Terror says and gets back to the holos on his desk.

He dismissed me. Just like that. Tears prickle my eyes, and I’m so angry, the heat of it is creeping up my cheeks. “How am I supposed to cancel all those invites?”

“Use social media sites,” Terror says. “One note there should do.”

“You’re not listening to me!” I stomp my foot.

Terror’s gaze rises slowly, climbing from my toes over my legs, and my middle, where he lingers, licking his lips. My body knows Alphas are in the room, and I do everything I can not to stare at their firm bodies, the biceps on Terror’s arms that I know would provide support for his long thick fingers if he decided to get up from behind the desk, tuck those digits into my panties, and stroke my folds. I take Betaren, so these males can’t scent the liquid heat trickling out of my pussy and wetting my panties. Terror lifts his gaze to my breasts and stares until my nipples perk up as if he commands them. And maybe he does. I know what these males can do. Reduce me to a mindless sex slave.

Terror’s gaze finally reaches my face, where heat colors my cheeks.Jesus,he undressed me with his eyes.

“What is your name?” he asks and slowly gets up from his chair, rolling down the sleeves of his black shirt, slipping on leather gloves.

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