Page 5 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

Ray stands beside me, his presence so enormous it feels like he’s sucking all the air out of the confined space. My chest rises and falls faster than I’d like, and I can’t seem to stop it. His red eyes flick down, lingering for a moment before meeting my gaze.

“Calm yourself,” he says, smooth, like gravel polished by a river. “You act as if I’m taking you to your execution.”

“Are you?” The words tumble out.

He tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “And if I were taking you to your execution, what would you do about it?”

I press myself against the elevator wall, my pulse thundering in my ears. “What can I do about it? You’re stronger than me, faster. I can’t get away from you.”

He leans back slightly, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “Perhaps not. But is overpowering your adversary the only solution you see for your predicament?”

I blink, my mind racing. This isn’t just a question. It’s a test. My eyes dart around the elevator, taking in the layout. “There’s an alarm button,” I say, pointing to the small red switch near the control panel. “It would instantly notify 911. But you’re standing between me and it.”

“Indeed.” He doesn’t move, just watches me with that same intense gaze. “Go on.”

I swallow, my mind scrambling. “I could distract you. Pretend to faint, maybe. Or fall to my knees and beg for my life while I brush my back against the button.”

His lips curl into a grin, sharp teeth flashing. “Good. Particularly the idea of begging for your life.”

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal the dimly lit parking garage. Neither of us moves.

“W-why is begging better than fainting?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes gleam, and he steps closer, his voice dropping to a purr. “Because I find it most disarming when a woman falls to her knees before me.”

My mouth falls open, heat flooding my cheeks. He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a delightful pulse through my heart and soul, and gestures toward the open door. I step out, my legs shaky, my mind spinning.

The underground garage is dimly lit, the air thick with the faint scent of oil and concrete. Ray strides ahead, his Christian Louboutins echoing against the floor, while I trail behind like a lost puppy. My eyes lock onto the car parked in the corner—sleek, black, and undeniably vintage. It looks like it rolled straight out of a 1940s noir film.

“This is your car?” I blurt out, my voice tinged with disbelief. It’s so… ordinary. Not that it isn’t beautiful, but it’s not what I expected from a seven-foot alien billionaire who probably owns a fleet of spaceships.

“Yes, this is Taylor,” he says, running a scaled hand over the polished hood like he’s caressing a lover.

“You named your car Taylor?” I wince, bracing myself for his reaction.

He straightens, his red eyes narrowing. “Yes, isn’t she a beauty?”

“But… it’s just a car,” I say, then immediately regret it when his expression darkens.

“Just a car?” His voice rises, his tone dripping with mock offense. He clutches his chest like I’ve stabbed him. “You wound me, Ms. Christian.”

“I didn’t mean—” I stumble over my words, my face heating up. “I just… you know, I expected something else.”

“A spaceship, perhaps?” He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “I suppose you think all inner-city youth can play basketball and hotwire cars as well?”

“No!” I throw my hands up, my cheeks burning. “No, I’m not like that! I swear.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling, and pops the hood. My jaw drops as I peer inside. The engine compartment is a maze of glowing filaments, pulsing lights, and components that look like they’re from another galaxy. I blink, trying to make sense of it, but it’s like staring into the heart of a star.

“I’m having some fun at your expense, Ms. Christian,” he says, his voice softening. “My apologies. I’m just trying to get you to relax a little.”

I shoot him a glare, crossing my arms over my chest. “Wouldyoube relaxed if you’d had the kind of day I’ve had?”

His smile fades, replaced by a thoughtful expression. He studies me for a long moment, his red eyes piercing. “No, I suppose I would not,” he admits. “Hmm. Already, you’re forcing me to be more flexible in my thinking. Perhaps Captain Pyke was right…”

“Who?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

He moves so fast I don’t even see it. One moment he’s a few feet away; the next, his hand is over my mouth, his grip firm but not painful. My eyes widen as I try to pull back, but he’s immovable.

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