Page 5 of Whisked Away By the Alien

Golda’s brows lift. “About that… You should call her Mrs. Birnbaum. It’s shorter. Believe me, she won’t be insulted.”

“I will defer to your insight.”

Beautiful brown eyes widen. “Really? You don’t look like the type of guy to defer to anyone, for any reason. What precisely is your job for GI7? I mean, when you’re not playing chef?”

“I relocate witnesses. Guard them. Sometimes I infiltrate enemy territory to help a potential witness escape, but that usually falls to GI5. My primary mission is to ensure the safety of the witness.”

Her lovely smile disappears for a moment, replaced by worry. “Are you here to protect someone in my family, Sten?”

“No.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

She’s wise to question, and unfortunately, I have no way of proving myself to her. “You don’t.”

“Since the war ended, we don’t see many aliens in Manhattan, let alone in our kitchen.”

I’ve alarmed her, which was not my objective. “This is a learning period for me. Nothing more.”

Her eyes widen with an excitement I don’t understand, but it lights a fire in me I have not felt in many years. Fighting the Coalition, being away from Zyan and my family, only to be sent to this distant planet, has worn on me over time.

With one fluid motion, I peel off the t-shirt I’m wearing to show her the warrior tattoos on my chest and biceps. “Warriors often undergo additional training for whatever mission or task we’re assigned. We do whatever is required of us.”

She cocks her head in an adorable manner. I can see her thinking, analyzing… me, the situation, everything. But she hasn’t armed herself with any of the knives laying on the counter or chased me from her family’s home. Nor has she spewed words of ignorance and hate. Instead, a smile overtakes her round face, lifting her deep brown eyes in a way that warms me.

“Whatever is required of you?” The lilt of her voice and the uptick in her smile make my horns want to shoot straight up, but I will them to remain still, despite the extreme concentration that requires. Another skill my commander insists I improve.

“Yes. Anything.”

“Oh, Warrior, I think we need to work on your English.”

I do not know what I’ve said wrong, but I love the way she says warrior. With respect, curiosity, and a teasing to her voice that intrigues me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. My cocks twitch, eager to accept whatever challenge she throws at me.

My cocks twitch…bothof them. That cannot be! My pleasure cock, yes, but not my mating cock. I freeze, stunned by this development, and I panic… something a warrior should never do. I shift one leg, then the other, trying to adjust my cocks without actually touching them in this female’s presence. The tight pants these humans wear leave no room for a male’s cocks to move. That has to be it. With my pleasure cock reacting to this shapely female, it must have nudged my upper cock. Nothing short of being with my sholani, my heartmate, will awaken my mating cock.

CHAPTERTHREE

GOLDA

“Imake you nervous,” Stenikov says, noticing how I keep looking toward the kitchen door.

My mom can come down any minute. No wonder I’m still a virgin. The thought of mom barging in and catching me makes it impossible to relax around a guy even when all I’m doing is talking to him.

“Not you exactly. But, well, you’re an alien.”

“That’s twice you’ve mentioned that. Is my being an alien a problem for you, female?”

“As much as my being a female is a problem for you.”

His eyes rake down my body slowly, sending a tingle through me. My nipples harden and suddenly not having a bra on feels sexy, dangerous. For a brief moment, I’m no longer the self-conscious woman I am around the guys at the warehouse where I work. Maybe because they’re all assholes who only make passes at me and treat me like the only job I should have is lying on my back with my legs spread for them. Certainly not keeping track of inventory and doing the books.

“I have no issues with females. Or humans.”

He’s shifting from leg to leg. The poor guy looks like he’s about to burst out of those jeans that have to be at least one size too small for his large frame.

“Stop calling me female and we’ll have no problems.” With a nod from him, I turn to Bubbe’s recipe box and walk my fingers through the index cards, stalling.

“It was not my intent to insult you,” Stenikov adds when I turn my back on him.

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