Page 11 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“Very well, I shall put my pants on.” As I untie the apron and remove it, she turns her back to me. I’m guessing to give me privacy. I’ve made her uncomfortable, which was not my intent.

“My commander assigned me to assist in your parents’ home so I will learn about humans and their customs,” I say as I dress.

“I doubt learning about aprons will save a witness.”

“Small details are often the key to succeeding. I’m dressed. You may turn around.”

After a quick glance, she motions toward my cocks. “You can zip up now.”

“No, I can’t.”

This time when her eyes dart down, she notices the bulge. “Oh!”

Golda’s face turns redder than a keenta in heat. She bites her lip, glances to the door one more time, then holds the apron against my chest as she slides behind me to tie it in back.

The apron’s front drops low enough to cover my hard cocks pushing through the partially open zipper. It’s coverage, so I don’t complain, but I suspect this female is braving through her embarrassment to spare me.

Her lovely breasts press against the thin green shirt she wears as she ties the top part of the apron around my neck. My mouth waters, but I refrain from licking my lips. Or anything else.

Though I’m tempted. Sorely tempted.

My cocks are on fire now, demanding attention. Even if my life depended on it, I cannot force them into these drekking pants. I’m very thankful this apron covers my lower half.

With Golda’s face inches from mine, an enticing aroma hits me with the force of blaster fire. Every part of my body demands I pull her to me and fill my lungs with the sweet air. Despite my efforts to resist, her scent wraps around me, reminding me of circanni blooms in the spring back home. Sweet and calming. Truly magnificent.

I never imagined a human could be so captivating, but Golda is everything a male wants in a female. She’s smart, brave, patient, and beautiful. I’m ready to surrender to her, though she’s made no demands of me, other than to cook.

“I guess we should get started. Get you engrained in cooking so my mother can’t object. Though don’t be surprised if she finds a reason. She can be highly critical.”

“My mother is the same. Though without a sholan at home, it became necessary. I’m one of five, and she had to be strict to maintain order. She became both mother and father to us.”

“Did your father leave your mother for another woman?”

It’s an odd question. A sholan would never leave his sholani for any reason other than to protect his female, younglings, or world.

“Heartmates are bound to one another.” I try to leave the hurt out of my voice and answer honestly, which is what I see in her lovely brown eyes. Honesty. She wants to understand. “My father died when the Grud attacked his battlecruiser near the coalition border. This was before the Grud invaded Zyan.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been very hard for your whole family.”

The expression on her face melts my heart. This female grew up on a world so different from my own, but her heart is full of love. Her curiosity and open-mindedness is refreshing, especially compared to the other humans I’ve met since I arrived on Earth.

“How old were you?” she asks.

“Five. The youngest. I did not fully understand the loss until later, when it came time to prepare for warrior training. When I turned eight, my mother showed me proper knife throwing techniques, as my father had taught her, but she did not have the time or skill to teach me what the other males were learning from their fathers.”

“She must be very proud of you.”

“She is proud of all her younglings. My sisters have families and positions in the government, except for Lajana. She’s third lead at a med center, but I’m confident she will become first lead in time.”

“Very impressive. It sounds like your mother did a fabulous job and you were all good listeners. That probably helps when training to be a warrior.”

At her praise, I stand taller, allowing my horns to reach high in the kitchen, nearly touching the low ceiling. “I have never dishonored my fellow warriors, but at times I don’t follow orders very well. Our instructors in Izoran teach us to be independent and work as part of a team. Balancing the two can be elusive. It’s why I’m here in New York. I need to prove myself to my commander. He’s ordered me to do whatever the Birnbaum family requires during my stay here. ”

“You’re staying here? In this house?”

“Yes. For one week.”

“Oy. This keeps getting better and better.”

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