Page 23 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

“Yeah, well, mom duty,” I say, sliding into the booth. I grab a wing and take a bite, mostly to avoid talking.

Susan doesn’t waste time. “So, the living room. Smashed to hell. Big bad billionaire Gary Irons throwing a tantrum. It’s not exactly a smoking gun, Reily. People expect rich jerks to do stuff like that.”

I nod, relief flooding me. “Right. Yeah, I figured.”

“But the uniform,” she says, leaning in, her eyes sharp. “That’s something. That’s sexual harassment. We could use that to pressure him.”

I choke on my beer, coughing as Susan watches me with growing suspicion.

“Reily!” she snaps, her voice low but intense.

“I know, I know!” I say, covering my face with my hands. My cheeks are on fire, and I can feel the garters digging into my thighs under my jeans.

Susan’s eyebrow arches. “How could you?”

“It just sort of happened—oh my god, don’t tell anyone, please. Seabus would shoot me dead.” My voice is a panicked whisper, and I’m acutely aware of the hickeys Susan’s already spotted.

Susan sighs, leaning back in her seat. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says, but her eyes drop to my wrists. “By the way, if Gary’s rich, he can definitely spring for silk ropes. They don’t cause abrasions on the skin.” She smirks. “And your collar isn’t nearly high enough to cover all those hickeys.”

“I fucking hate you so much,” I mutter, hiding my face again. The stockings and garters feel like they’re burning through my jeans.

Susan leans forward, her tone serious now. “Reily, be careful. Stay in touch. And for god’s sake, don’t let him wreck you.”

I nod, finishing my beer in one long gulp. “Yeah. I’ll try.” My life just got a whole lot more complicated.

CHAPTER 11

GUVAN

Istride into City Hall, the weight of the briefcase in my hand a trivial burden compared to the weight of dealing with men like Boss Hoag. The air smells faintly of cheap lemon cleaner and desperation. My eyes sweep the lobby, catching on the cluster of Cold Slither bikers lounging near the entrance. Their leather jackets gleam with the gang’s cobra emblem, and their presence is as subtle as a gunshot in a library. They don’t move, don’t speak—just watch. Like predators waiting for a reason to strike.

I keep my expression neutral, but my instincts itch. They’regrolgath. I’d bet my scales on it. Their human disguises are convincing, but I can almost taste the reptilian stench beneath the cologne. Still, Veritas rules bind me. No interference unless there’s direct proof oftheirmeddling. For now, they’re just bikers. For now.

The secretary at the front desk looks up, her eyes widening as she recognizes me. “Mr. Irons! Mayor Hoag is expecting you.” Her voice is an octave too high, her smile painted on like a bad watercolor.

“I’d hope so,” I say, my tone flat. “I don’t make a habit of dropping by unannounced.”

The door to Hoag’s office bursts open before I can even finish my thought. The man himself waddles out, his suit straining against his bulk, and his headpiece—some kind of synthetic monstrosity—shifts slightly as he moves. His hand is outstretched before he’s fully in the room.

“Gary! Always a pleasure, always a pleasure.” His handshake is overly enthusiastic, his palm slick with sweat. I suppress the urge to wipe my hand on my trousers when he finally lets go.

“Mayor,” I say with a nod, my voice clipped. “Let’s get to business.”

“Of course, of course!” He ushers me into his office, a space that reeks of stale cigars and self-importance. A scale model of the dam project dominates the room, perched on a table like a trophy. Hoag gestures to it with a flourish. “A thing of beauty, isn’t it? Progress, Gary. That’s what we’re building here. Progress.”

“Progress,” I repeat, my tone neutral. I set the briefcase down and open it, pulling out a stack of documents. “The permits are in order. The environmental assessments—revised, as you requested. Everything’s moving forward.”

Hoag’s smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes flicker with something greasier than enthusiasm. “Excellent, excellent. Just one small thing, Gary. A minor detail, really. Administrative fees. Bureaucracy, you know how it is. An additional sixty thousand should cover it.”

I stare at him, letting the silence stretch until it’s uncomfortable. “Sixty thousand?” My voice is low, almost a growl. “Forwhat, exactly?”

Hoag laughs nervously, his jowls jiggling. “Oh, you know. Paperwork. Inspections. The usual red tape.”

“The usual red tape,” I repeat, my tone icy. I lean forward, letting my height and presence loom over him. “Let me make something clear, Mayor. I’m not one of your desperateconstituents. I’m not a man you can strong-arm or swindle. If you think I’m going to hand over sixty thousand dollars fornothing, you’re mistaken.”

His smile falters, and he takes a half-step back. “Now, Gary, let’s not be hasty. We’re partners in this, aren’t we?”

“Partners don’t try to extort each other,” I say, my voice sharp enough to cut steel. “Drop it. Now.”

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