Page 22 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

He growls, but there’s a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," I say, leaning back against him. "I guess I do."

The sunlight streaming through the window is too low, too golden. My stomach drops as I bolt upright in bed. “Shit.Shit.”

Guvan stirs beside me, his massive frame shifting against the sheets. His voice is a rumble, still half-asleep. “What is it?”

“It’s after five,” I mutter, scrambling out of bed and scanning the room for my clothes. “I was supposed to be home an hour ago. My mom—she can’t be alone too long. She’s sick, and I?—”

“Your mother has the sickness,” he interrupts, sitting up now, his expression darkening. His scales catch the light, a dull red sheen that makes him look both alien and impossibly real. “I failed to protect her from the grolgath. I am sorry. We’re working on a cure.”

I freeze, one hand clutching the crumpled maid uniform I’d tossed aside earlier. “We? There’s more of you?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “Veritas. A group of us—Vakutans, humans—working to stop the grolgath and protect your planet. The mine, the sickness, it’s all connected.”

I let that sink in for a second, then shake my head and yank the maid dress back on just long enough to find my jeans and shirt. The stockings and garter belt are still in place, and I’m not about to strip down again to deal with them. Jeans over top will have to do.

Guvan lets out a low chuckle as I pull my jeans up over the stockings. “What’s so funny, Alien?”

“Not a thing,” he says, his smirk widening. “I like the idea of you wearing something hidden and sexy that only you and I know about. And I instructed you how to address me.”

I pause, one leg half in my jeans, and cock an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?” Before he can respond, I’m on him, throwing myself into his lap and kissing him hard. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, , I let myself get lost in the heat of it.

But only for a moment. I break away before he can pin me down again, sliding out of his grip and hopping to my feet. “Whatever you say,” I say, blowing him a kiss as I head for the door. “Master.”

His face is a picture—part confusion, part amusement, all completely dumbfounded. And yeah, sure, maybe he’s also sporting a very obvious problem in the tented sheets, but that’s his problem, not mine. I duck out the door before he can recover, the sound of his laughter chasing me all the way to my truck.

I collapse into the driver’s seat of the POS, the door creaking shut behind me. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, as I stare out the cracked windshield. A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, helpless and disbelieving. “Well,” I mutter, shaking my head. “That just happened. I guess I have an alien billionaire master now.”

The keys jangle as I shove them into the ignition. The engine sputters to life, coughing like it’s about to give up the ghost. I pull out of Guvan’s driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires, and head for home. The road stretches out in front of me, empty and quiet, and my mind starts racing. “Okay, Reily, think. You’ve got an alien wrapped around your finger. Maybe you can use that. Convince him not to dam Silver Creek. Save the town, save the lake. Be the hero.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, my thoughts spinning. “But does he even have the authority to stop the project? Or is this some big Veritas master plan? And what if he says no? What if he just laughs in my face and tells me to get back on my knees?”

I groan, smacking the wheel. “Ugh, Reily, you’re such an idiot. You can’t even figure out how to save the town. You’re just his…” My voice trails off. I don’t even know what I am to him. A distraction? A pet? A mistake?

The POS rattles as I hit a pothole, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glance at the clock on the dash—almost 6 PM. Mystomach drops. “Mom.” I press the gas pedal harder, the car lurching forward. I skid into our driveway a few minutes later, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust. The house is dark, the front door ajar. Panic sets in as I burst inside, my boots clattering on the hardwood. “Mom?”

No answer. The living room is empty, the kitchen too. My heart pounds in my chest until I see the note on the table, scrawled in Boris’s messy handwriting. “Hey Reily, we had to work our shift at Greece Hutt, so we took your mom with us. Don’t freak out. She’s fine. -Boris & Bags.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank God.” I grab the keys again and head back to the POS. The engine groans as I reverse out of the driveway, and I mutter under my breath, “Come on, old girl, just a little farther.”

Greece Hutt comes into view, the neon sign flickering like it’s on its last legs. I pull into the parking lot and spot Mom sitting in one of the booths by the window, a half-eaten gyro in front of her. Boris is behind the counter, messing up an order, and Barfbag is in the corner, headbanging to whatever’s playing through his headphones.

I push the door open, the bell jingling overhead. Boris looks up, his face lighting up with a grin. “Hey, Reily! You’re late. We thought you bailed on us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, waving him off. I slide into the booth across from Mom, forcing a smile. “Hey, Mom. You okay?”

She looks up, her eyes tired but bright. “Oh, sweetie, I’m fine. Boris and Barfbag have been taking good care of me.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me. “Where have you been? You look…flushed.”

“Nowhere,” I say quickly, my face heating up. “Just…stuff. You know. Town stuff.”

Mom gives me that look—the one that says she knows more than she’s letting on. I flush crimson, but she doesn’t press. Shejust smiles softly and pats my hand. “You’re a good girl, Reily,” she says, her voice warm but laced with something I can’t quite place. “Just be careful, okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, Mom. I will.”

After I get her settled in for the night—her meds taken, her blanket tucked around her—I slip out to the porch and pull out my phone. Susan’s already texted me twice.We need to talk. Dick’s. Now.I groan and fire back a reply:On my way.

The drive to Dick’s is short, but my mind races the whole way. How do I explain this? How do I protect Gary—Guvan—without sounding like a lunatic or, worse, a traitor? The POS sputters into the parking lot, and I take a deep breath before heading inside.

Susan’s already at a table, a plate of wings between us. She looks up, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, and gestures for me to sit. “You’re late.”

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