Page 35 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

Pyke, meanwhile, loses it. He slaps his desk, wheezing with laughter, his face turning a shade of crimson that matches the holographic globe above us. “That’s—that’s priceless,” he manages between gasps for air.

I deactivate the inducer, my own laughter bubbling up as Raekon glares at me. “From now on,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye, “you’ll never know if the person you’re talking to is really me in disguise.”

Raekon straightens up, his scales shimmering as he regains his dignity. “It doesn’t matter if you’re standing right next to me,” he says, his voice smug. “I’ll always know it’s you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I clasp my hands over my chest. “Awww, because I’m your jalshagar?”

His expression doesn’t change. “No. Because Vakutan olfactory senses are keen enough to identify you by scent alone.”

Pyke facepalms so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t leave a dent in his forehead. “Raekon, you just stepped on a land mine.”

Raekon blinks, clearly confused. “How so?”

“You just told your wife,” Pyke says, his voice dripping with exasperation, “in as many words, that no, it’s not true love and soul mates that lets you know it’s her. It’s herbody odor.”

The realization dawns on Raekon’s face, and I pat him on the shoulder with a mock-sympathetic sigh. “You can make it up to me with ice cream. And lots of assurances I don’t smell.”

Pyke mutters something under his breath about Vakutan being brilliant warriors but clueless husbands, and I laugh. Raekon glares at both of us, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his crimson eyes. “Fine. Ice cream it is.”

I grin, already planning my next disguise. Something tells me Raekon’s going to regret underestimating my sense of humor—and his own sense of smell.

Pyke’s laughter echoes through the office as he waves us off. “Go on, Raekon. Your mission awaits. And remember, ice cream is a sacred human tradition. Treat it with the respect it deserves.”

Raekon grumbles under his breath as he leads me out of the office. “I used to be sent to destroy entire enemy armadas. Now I’m being ordered to take my wife for ice cream.”

I loop my arm through his, my fingers brushing the smooth, warm scales of his forearm. “And? Do you really think it’s a downgrade?”

He pauses, his crimson eyes softening as he looks down at me. “No,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “I’ve never been happier than to take my lovely wife for ice cream.”

“You’re learning!” Pyke calls after us, his voice tinged with amusement.

Raekon rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond, guiding me toward Taylor with a firm hand on the small of my back. The shuttlecraft hums to life as we climb in, and Raekon takes the controls. I’m still mastering the art of landing Taylor seamlessly in crowded areas without drawing attention, so he handles the flight back to New York. The moment we near the coastline, he activates the cloaking device, and the world outside the windshield shimmers as we become invisible to the naked eye.

He finds an abandoned stretch of road near the harbor district to land, the transition from air to ground so smooth I barely feel it. Taylor’s tires hit the pavement with a soft thud,and Raekon shifts into drive, the car purring like a contented beast.

Sweet Dynasty Ice Cream is a quaint little shop tucked between a bookstore and a vintage clothing store. The bell above the door jingles as we step inside, and the scent of waffle cones and fresh cream hits me like a warm hug. Raekon’s nose wrinkles slightly, his scales shimmering as he adjusts to the overwhelming sweetness in the air.

“What’ll it be?” the cheerful teenager behind the counter asks, her eyes flicking curiously between Raekon’s towering frame and my much smaller one.

“Double scoop of salted caramel in a waffle cone,” I say without hesitation. Raekon hesitates, scanning the menu with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll have… the same,” he says finally, though he sounds unsure.

The teenager grins and gets to work, scooping generous portions of ice cream into crisp waffle cones. Raekon pays, his claws carefully handling the cash, and we take our treats to a small table by the window.

I take a bite of my ice cream, the sweet and salty flavors exploding on my tongue. Raekon watches me for a moment before tentatively licking his own cone. His eyes widen in surprise, and he takes another, more confident lick.

“This is… acceptable,” he says, though the way he’s devouring it suggests it’s more than just acceptable.

I smirk, leaning forward on my elbows. “So, about my scent…”

He freezes mid-lick, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Willow…”

“No, no, I’m just curious,” I say, feigning innocence. “You said it’s not unpleasant. So what is it, then? Flowers? Jasmine? Sunshine?”

He sets his cone down, his scales flushing a deeper gold. “It’s… unique. Like… like the first breath of air after a storm. Clean, fresh, and… intoxicating.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “Intoxicating, huh?”

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