Page 8 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“Is Zyan similar to Earth?”

“In some ways. Similar atmosphere, but our grass is blue and we have different animals and produce. It is the culture here that baffles me.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure. And no, I’m not married.”

I start to smile and instantly force it back. My imagination has led me astray. Not good for a warrior, especially for one of thirty-one years.

“We better start cooking or we’ll never have dinner ready in time.” She pats the white cloth I’m clutching. “Put the apron on, Warrior. You can’t cook dressed like that.”

I can and I have, numerous times, but I don’t contradict her. I’m a guest in her home, and she’s technically my teacher. Disrespecting a teacher would not reflect well on me or zyanthan warriors as a whole.

As I open the cloth, ties unfurl from the top of a narrow square of fabric. Longer, thicker ties spill out from the middle of a wider square next. Neither section provides enough material to cover my cocks and ass at the same time.

“And this one is mine,” she says, holding up fabric half the size of the one she gave me.

When I turn my apron around, I see the word BIG followed by BIGGER, both in large red print.

“Sorry for the lack of imagination on there. I made that apron when I was five and was just learning to read and write.”

“This uniform will not cover much.”

“It will cover enough. Trust me.”

When she says I should trust her, I do. This alone surprises me. Trust is not easy for any warrior. We tend to only trust those we fight alongside. And of course a mate. But Golda is neither.

“Golda, we’re ready to leave. How is it going in there?” her mother yells from the living room.

“I’m showing Sten where everything is.”

“I moved the mixer since you were last here. You’ll never find it. Give me a second to put Sadie in the stroller and then I’ll show you.”

Golda’s eyes widen with panic. “Stay here,” she orders and races through the kitchen door like an advance scout determined to assess the danger ahead and protect her team. It makes me wonder why she works in a warehouse. With her forethought and fast decision making, she would do well as a scout. As curious as I am about her mother, I’ve been given my orders. I hold the apron up, trying to figure it out. I’m a warrior who has disarmed bombs and snuck into enemy encampments. This swatch of fabric will not be my downfall…

CHAPTERFOUR

GOLDA

Oh, God! I can’t let Mom ruin everything. I’m just getting to know Stenikov. If she comes in here, she’ll chase him off.

I fly out of the kitchen to see my mom removing her coat. Sadie’s already wrapped up in her winter bunting and lying down in her stroller, ready for her outing.

“I’ll carry the stroller down the porch steps for you, Mom.”

“I need to show you were the mixer is first.”

“I’ll find it. It’s a mixer, not a tiny earring that can fall between the cracks in the floor and disappear. Besides, I’m not making the donut dough until tomorrow. Latkes and apple sauce today, right?” We always make a few dishes the day before Hannukah to spread out the work.

Mom eyes me. I’ll never understand how she can be so dense about some things and yet see through me when I’m trying to manipulate her. In two strides, I pick up the stroller and head out the front door. She has no choice but to follow me.

After I set the stroller down on the sidewalk, I kiss the baby, and then Mom. “At least it’s not bitterly cold today. Take your time going to the appointment and watch out for black ice.”

“I’ve lived here my entire life. I know how to walk in the snow and ice. Find a husband, then have children and mother them, not me.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And don’t talk back to me.”

I open my mouth to object, but I don’t want this turning into a fight. “I’m sorry.”

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