Page 7 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
I freeze. “That’s not—wait, what?!”
He tugs again, harder this time. My pulse spikes.
“Do I get a safe word?” I mutter as I try to keep pace.
“No,” he growls. “But I’ll let you scream it anyway.”
I swear softly as the door hisses open. He drags me down the hall past curious stares and knowing smirks. Every Reaper we pass gives us space. No one speaks. No one even looks directly at me.
The collar works.
And I hate that I feel... protected by it.
By him.
When we reach his quarters, the door slides open on a space too large, too clean, too shadowed for someone like him. He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t hesitate. Just drags me in.
And I realize?—
I’m in deep now.
Way deeper than I ever meant to go.
CHAPTER 4
GEORGIA
The door to his quarters seals shut behind us. It’s quiet. Too quiet.
The leash coils tight in his grip, a gentle but insistent reminder of what I am right now.His.
My arms are manacled behind my back, the cold bite of alien metal snug around my wrists, forcing my shoulders back and my breasts forward. The collar around my throat pulses faintly with each of my breaths, the leash trailing from it to Lanz’s massive hand.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but he’s already moving behind me. I hear the low rasp of bone on fabric before I feel it: his claws at my jacket, slow and sure, peeling it open like he’s unwrapping a rare, fragile gift he also fully intends to break.
The fabric parts under his grip, and I shiver as cool air brushes across my exposed back.
“Hey,” I whisper, though my voice is more breath than words. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps undressing me, layer by layer, those black claws catching every edge and hemlike he’s stripping away more than fabric—like he’s peeling down to the core of me.
“I’m doing exactly what you’ve needed me to do,” he says at last, his voice low and deep, scraping through my spine like dark velvet. “Tell me I’m wrong, little human.”
I should resist. I should at least pretend to.
But my thighs are already slick. My nipples tighten under the open air.
I don’t say a word.
Instead, I turn to him, manacled, bared, my chest rising and falling like I’ve just run a race.
He takes my silence as the answer it is.
His mouth crashes onto mine—hungry, rough,devouring. There’s no softness, no apology. Just heat and hunger and the possessive fury of a creature made of shadow and bone.
He kisses like the world is ending, and I kiss him back like I’m begging for it to.
His claws rake lightly along my ribs, over my hips, tracing my thighs. The leash tightens in his grip as he shifts behind me, and the tension on my collar makes my breath catch.
