Page 17 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

I clench my fists. She doesn’t get to do that. She doesn’t get to see the cracks in the armor I’ve spent centuries building. She doesn’t get to make me feel like this—like I’m something more than a weapon, like I’mweak.No. I’m going to punish her for it. For the broken window, for the shatteredSunrise on Vakuta,for the way she makes my chest tighten every time I think about her. She’ll learn her place.

By the time I reach the cabin’s front yard, my mood hasn’t improved. My compad buzzes on my belt, and I snatch it up, scowling at the screen. A Zoom meeting. I forgot about it entirely. Typical. The human farce of “Gary Irons, billionaire industrialist” is exhausting, but it’s part of the mission. I should’ve been prepared for this.

I glance down at my bare chest, scales glinting in the sunlight. No time to fix that now. I activate the image inducer, the holographic disguise snapping into place over my skin. Good enough. I sit down on a stump in the yard, propping the compad on a nearby log and joining the call.

The screen fills with faces, each one glancing at me with varying degrees of surprise and amusement. I don’t care. Let them think this is some kind of power move. Let them think I’m too much of an “alpha” to bother with a shirt. It’s better than admitting I forgot.

“Mr. Irons,” one of the board members says, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and confusion. “I see you’re… embracing the great outdoors.”

I lean back, my expression flat. “I find it helps me think. Get to the point.”

The man clears his throat, glancing nervously at the others. “Right. Of course. We’re here to discuss the quarterly?—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Summarize. I don’t have time for small talk.”

They scramble to condense their presentations, their voices stumbling over each other. I barely listen, my mind still stuck on Reily. What’s she doing in the cabin right now? Cleaning? Plotting? Thinking about me? My jaw tightens. It doesn’t matter. She’s mine to deal with, and I’ll deal with her soon enough.

The meeting drags on, and I growl at the board members to hurry it up. They practically trip over themselves to finish, their faces a mix of admiration and fear. Good. Let them see the beast beneath the billionaire. When the call finally ends, I toss the compad onto the ground and exhale sharply.

Reily. She’s what matters now. I’ll deal with her. And I’ll make sure she never forgets who’s in charge.

CHAPTER 9

REILY

Isweep the last of the broken glass into the dustpan, my hands trembling. The room looks spotless now, the granite countertops gleaming, the furniture polished. Not a single speck of dust dares to linger. I straighten the last throw pillow on the couch and step back, surveying my work. It’s perfect. Too perfect. Why do I care so much? I don’t owe this man anything.

I think about the way he grabbed me, the way his skin felt under my fingers—rough, almost…scaly. But that’s impossible. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memory. Maybe it’s just some kind of condition, like psoriasis or something. Yeah, that’s it. A skin condition.

“You’re losing it, Ray,” I mutter under my breath, pacing the room. “Focus. You’re here to find dirt on him, remember? Not to play housekeeper.”

But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes when he grabbed me. There was pain there, deep and raw, like I’d shattered more than just a window. What could I have broken that would make a man like him come undone?

A noise outside snaps me out of my thoughts. My heart leaps into my throat. Is it him? My stomach does this weird flip, and Ihate myself for it. I shouldn’t be excited to see him. I should be terrified.

I creep toward the window, peeking through the blinds. My breath catches in my chest.

There’s a monster out there.

I duck down, pressing my back against the wall, and clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. My heart hammers against my ribs. What the hell is that thing? It’s huge, maybe seven feet tall, covered in dark red scales. Its eyes glow like embers in the sunlight.

I peek again, my hands shaking so hard I can barely hold the phone steady. I need a picture. Susan would kill for this.

But when I look back, it’s gone. Instead, there’s Gary, shirtless, chopping wood like nothing happened. The sunlight glistens off his sweat-slicked skin, , I’m transfixed.

I blink hard, rubbing my eyes. Did I imagine it? Was it some kind of…stress hallucination?

“Get it together, Ray,” I whisper, crouching back down. “You’re losing your damn mind.”

The door creaks open, and I freeze mid-sweep, the broom hovering over the floor like a lifeline. Gary strides in, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. My stomach knots as his eyes sweep the space, sharp and calculating. He snorts, a sound that’s half disdain, half amusement.

“I did what I could,” I blurt out, fidgeting with the broom handle. The maid uniform clings to me like a bad joke, and I feel absurdly exposed. "But I don’t know how to repair masonry, or, um, have the tools to do it, so…"

My voice trails off as he circles the room, his boots thudding against the hardwood. He’s searching for something, anything, to criticize. I can see it in the way his eyes narrow, the way his jaw tightens. He wants a fight, and he’s going to find one.

Then he stops. Bends down. My heart sinks as he brushes his fingers under the edge of a bookshelf, coming up with a faint streak of dust no wider than my pinky. He holds it up like evidence in a court case.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my tone dripping with sarcasm. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to reclaim some dignity, but the uniform makes it impossible. I feel ridiculous, and I hate him for it.

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