Page 33 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

Mia woke alone in Zoran’s bed. Sunlight and a light breeze filtered through the protective field into the outer wall’s open arch, and the faint buzz of vehicles and whatever life lived in the jungle added a happy cadence to the day. The storm must’ve dissipated in the night, after she’d fallen, exhausted, into sleep.

She smiled and stretched, starfishing in the middle of the bed. After her shower last night, she’d scrounged through Zoran’s clothes and borrowed a sleeveless tunic. Throughout their simple supper—Xeruvian food for him, human food for her—she’d tried drawing him into conversation, telling him about her day, asking about his. His replies had been short and to the point, and that hurt her as much as his earlier cutting remark had. Gone was the Zoran who’d wrapped himself around her and teased her about rutting and mating. The male that had taken his place was withdrawn and borderline rude.

Still, she found hope in the unlikeliest of places. He’d brought her into his home, when he could’ve dumped her at the compound where the unmated humans would live. He’d introduced her to his mother. That was a plus. And he wanted her as much as he ever had.

A shiver shuddered through her as the memory of him stalking her around the bedroom replayed in her mind. When he’d pinned her to the bed, all glowering threats and adorable snarls, she’d nearly melted on the spot. Mercy, was that man sexy! She’d wanted to boop him on the nose, which might’ve gotten her fingers nipped.

Mmm. Zoran nipping at her skin? Yes, please!

She’d settled for a single touch, one light fingertip against his lower lip. The look he’d given her, startled and disbelieving and outrageously sexy, had warmed her to her core, easing some of the pain of his withdrawal.

Several of the women were bitter or fearful over being taken from their lives on Earth, some, like Kira, with due cause. Mia couldn’t say that she wasn’t, to some degree. She simply refused to wallow in either emotion. Better to make the most of her time on Zephyria.

And since she’d bound herself to her sexy alien warlord, however inadvertently, she intended to make the most of that, too. Zoran wanted to withdraw?

Ha. Let him try!

A chiming melody rang through the apartment. Mia glanced at the open wall and the balcony beyond, found it empty, and heaved a sigh of relief. She kept expecting a giant, woman-eating raptor to creep into the bedroom. Or worse, that lithe white animal she’d spotted slinking through the jungle.

She shuddered again and rolled out of bed. Maybe Zoran would compromise by installing an actual door in the wall rather than relying solely on Xeruvian forcefield technology.

The chiming came again, and Mia realized it was a doorbell. Laughing, she rushed into the apartment’s living area and swung the door wide. Jyrak stood on the other side, dressed in proper Xeruvian fashion: a colorfully embroidered calf-length robe fastened over a sleeveless tunic, flowing pants, and sandals. Her hands were tucked behind her back, and she cocked her head quizzically at Mia.

“Kii-la, novala,” Jyrak said.

Mia grabbed her elbow and prodded her inside. “Never mind that. I need your help.”

Jyrak’s startled look shot embarrassed heat straight to Mia’s cheeks.

“Sorry! Hello, how are you, thanks for coming by,” Mia said all in a rush, then waved at the tunic she wore. “I just remembered that I don’t have any clothes to wear.”

“Your warlord has not provided any for you?” Jyrak clucked her tongue. “That is not like Lord Zoran.”

“No, no. There was no time.” Mia blew out a breath and shoved her hands through her tangled hair. “Let me start over. We were taken from our workplace.”

“This I understand.”

“Yes, so, we were wearing work clothes. And that’s what I have with me. A skirt, a blouse, heels, my lab coat, and a single set of underclothes.” She glanced down at Zoran’s tunic and grimaced. “And this, I suppose. Everything happened so fast, I don’t think Zoran and the others realized that we’d need more clothes than what we had on.”

“Ah. Males have little need for clothing.” Jyrak’s upper lip curled in a clear expression of distaste. “If needs be, they will wander around in the same breeches for days or simply go without.”

Mia laughed. “Yes! Human men are the same way sometimes. Alara took me on a quick tour of the market, but I wasn’t focused on finding clothes.”

“Then we shall remedy that matter this morning.”

“But not like this. Oh, wait! I forgot about the robe Zoran gave me. Where is that? Geez, I had it on yesterday…”

She rushed back to the bedroom and found her robe hanging in the set-in closet alongside Zoran’s clothes. Her heart stuttered in her chest. He’d done that, making a place for her among his own things in the spartan apartment that was now their home. Surely that counted for something.

Jyrak’s steps were light on the bare floor behind her. “Is this the sameshinsek’ukyou wore when we first met?”

“I’m afraid so. Zoran gave it to me after—”Think positive, Mia reminded herself. “It was his first gift to me.”

“And a dear one. These are his colors. The colors of Clan Kerus.”

“Marking me.”

Jyrak gave her a startled look. “I suppose so.”

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