Page 20 of Claimed by an Alien Warrior

Oh, no, no, no.

“I need two beds.”

“Sorry, honey.” The woman took another drag, held the cigarette aside between two fingers — the butt was smeared with lipstick — and turned her head to release more smoke. “I only got two rooms left, and they both got one bed.” Her eyes shifted past Zoey, looking toward the window. “You got someone waiting out there? Can book both rooms, if you really don’t want to sleep together that badly. But thisisVegas, hun.”

As tempting as that was, Zoey couldn’t justify spending twice as much — otherwise she would’ve driven a little farther into Vegas and looked for a nicer place. “No, thank you. One room is fine.”

The woman picked up an open ledger and plopped it on the counter in front of Zoey, pointing to a blank line with a red acrylic fingernail. “Print and sign here.”

Zoey arched a brow. Apparently, the décor wasn’t the only out-of-date part of this place. Didn’t hotels do everything by computer these days? She glanced behind the counter; there was a single computer on a desk against the wall, a blocky thing with a glossy glass screen and a gaping slot for floppy disks. She hadn’t seen one of those things since elementary school.

Unwilling to waste any more time, Zoey signed her name and paid for the room. The woman ran Zoey’s debit card through on a tablet she produced from under the counter.

Guess when it comes to getting your money in their pockets as fast as possible, even places like this are willing to upgrade.

After sliding the book to its original place, the woman tossed a key onto the counter. “One-twelve. It’s around the back,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

Zoey snatched up the key and hurried out the door. As soon as she was outside, she sucked in a desperate lungful of fresh air.

Returning to the car, Zoey got in and started the engine.

The rear seat creaked as Rendash, still unseen, moved. “What is that stench clinging to you?”

“Cigarette smoke. Nasty stuff. I don’t recommend it,” she replied as she pulled out of their spot and drove to the rear of the motel.

“Your original scent is far more appealing.”

“My—” Zoey looked in the rearview mirror, which was still angled to display the seemingly empty back seat. “You’ve beensmellingme?”

“You emit a smell into the surrounding air. Are human senses so dull that you cannot detect such scents?”

“Of course not.” Zoey blushed as she parked the car and removed the key from the ignition. “We’re here.”

She popped the trunk, snagged the fast food bag, and got out, slamming the door behind her.

The car rocked; Zoey assumed it was due to the movements of her invisible passenger. She opened the back door and continued to the trunk. After tossing her blanket over her shoulder, she set the suitcases on the ground and tugged up their handles. The box of novels was likely safe; a thief would have to be desperate to go through the struggle of hauling them down to a used bookstore to sell for a dollar of store credit a piece, if that.

She shut the trunk and — clutching the bag of burgers along with one of the suitcase handles — wheeled her belongings to the door of her room. She fumbled the key into the lock and turned it as Ren closed the car door. Opening the room door, she grabbed her stuff, stepped inside, and flipped on the lights.

She didn’t notice anything skittering for cover in the sudden light; that was a good sign, even if it wasn’t a definitive all clear. The lamplight was dull yellow, revealing a room that was a good match for the lobby — the same brown-and-orange carpet pattern, the same wood panel walls, and baby-poop-yellow bedding. Directly across from the foot of the bed sat a dresser with an old tube TV — complete with rabbit ears — on top.

“A blast from the past,” she muttered, setting her things down on the floor and tossing the greasy bag of food and her blanket onto the bed.

The door closed behind her, calling her attention. She turned to see Rendash’s form bleed into view. Zoey’s eyes widened. The closest she could liken it to was dripping some dye into a glass of water and watching it diffuse to color all the water solidly, but that didn’t do the image justice.

He wastall— like, duck-under-the-doorway tall. Seven feet if he was an inch. Anddamn,he was large. His shoulders were broad, and his arms — all four of them — were corded with muscle. He wasn’t bulky like a body builder, but there was no doubt he was strong.

Where his scales weren’t covered in dust, they were a deep, vibrant emerald that made her think of a dense jungle. The size, texture, and shade of his scales seemed to change at various points on his body. On his belly and the insides of his arms and legs, they were fine like snake skin and a bit paler. His shoulders and the outsides of his arms and legs had larger, darker scales, with raised ridges that would look at home on the back of an alligator.

His hair was a duller than his skin, forest green rather than emerald, and ran from the top of his head in thick, dreadlock-like ropes that flowed down his back and brushed his shoulders. It bore subtle undertones of blue and yellow. The sides of his head were bare. His facial features were the embodiment of brutal sensuality and arrogance, almost elfin in nature — right down to his pointed ears. He had high cheekbones, a sharp, narrow jaw, and a wide nose. All four of his eyes were fixed on her, their color reminiscent of peridots.

Zoey’s gaze traveled down his body. He was more or less humanoid in shape, but his musculature was different; everything was longer, leaner.

Of course it’s different. He’s a four-armed alien!

His lower arms were several inches below the upper pair, which created an overlapping set of pectorals, their lines blurred by his scales. His long torso tapered down toward a narrow waist. Despite the texture of his skin, all his muscles were well-defined — especially histwelve-pack of abs.

Better by the dozen, right?

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