Page 41 of Secret Twins for the Alien Dad

“I’m not going anywhere until I have that comm from Nova Casino. I know you have it.” Cocking the gun, I take Boris by the throat, but Vorra senses my bluff.

“Go ahead.” He laughs.

“Sorry.” Boris looks at me pityingly. “You have to threaten something he actually cares about. Like this fucking hotel!” Boris hits the floor, choking on his breath as I release him. But he’s right. I need better leverage.

“Oh, stop whining!” Vorra screams. “If I had known my own son was going to grow up to be a Vasper, I would’ve never let him be born. You shame me!”

“You shame yourself! We were happy, and you scared her off!” Boris squeaks. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. BorislovedLyrenne.

Vorra’s menacing laughter fills the room. “That whore is the one who gave me the comm in the first place. She just wanted money, you moronic fuck. I told her to get her breeder ass out of here.”

The rage inside me builds, igniting my heightened senses. Before anyone can think, my speed amps into action with my arms around Vorra’s neck. He chokes but still won’t budge.

“I’d rather die than let that filth get into yours or anyone else's hands.”

“Have it your way.” I pull Vorra up long enough to gut him with my knee. The wind rushes out of his chest, but he’s still on his feet. With another kick to the gut, I’ve got him on his knees in front of me. I won’t touch his face. I need it to open the safe.

“Open it!” I demand. But nothing. In my rage, my eyes meet Boris's. He’s as angry as I am. It’s time he helps.

“Grab that shit off the wall!” I demand, pointing at the hideous genocide Vorra calls art. Boris throws it in front of his father, and at my word, sends it up in flames with his lighter.

“No!” Vorra screams.

“Funny thing about this room, Vorra. I noticed it on the way in. No sprinklers.” The painting catches quickly, spreading to the frame. An alarm sounds, and Vorra’s comm-pad starts ringing persistently. “Usually it means that someone’s been sleeping with a Dragonian. Fire sex, you know.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Vorra sweats on the floor as the fire starts to spread. The comm-pad rings and rings, trying to reach the boss.

“They can’t even call fire services without your permission, can they, Vorra?” I tease.

“No, they can't,” Boris answers.

“I wonder why that is? Imagine if they knewyouwere crossing species.” Vorra’s eyes hit the floor. It's clear he has only one move to make. He stands, walking over to the safe. An eye scan reads his face, and he pulls out the comm-pad. His face lights up when I catch it. The comm-pad is in ruins, burned to almost nothing.

“A deal’s a deal.” He grins. But he hasn’t won yet.

With my lightning speed, I shoot back to his desk and throw his comm-pad into the fire.

Boris shoots me a look of triumph. I give him a nod, and together we rush to the hoverlift. Vorra is the last thing we see as they close, his bigotry burning behind him.

Catching my breath, I look over at Boris. “Zair. The name’s Zair.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says through gasps. “Sorry about that room comm. What did you need it for, anyway?”

Boris gives me a ride straight to Brev in his supercharged hovercar. The ride is a mixed bag as far as I’m concerned. Did I get what I came for? Yes. Will it be good enough for Brev? Probably not.

I use the flight over to fill him in on my mission for Myra and his necessary kidnapping. He's more interested in our bond as fated mates.

“So you can feel her. Like all the time?”

“Not all the time. Not if I’m distracted.” Come to think of it, I have been. But there’s still Brev to deal with. I’ve got Vorra off her back, but he’s only half the problem.

Brev’s staff escorts me, Boris, and the busted comm straight to him. He’s watching the sunrise from a rooftop hot tub, filled with prostitutes. They’ve been partying all night, with enough drink to keep it going all day

“Bori!” Brev shouts.

He leaps out of the tub, revealing axeyla animal print trunks over his wet fur. Donning a silk kimono, he struts to Boris. “What did you bring me, Bori? Cause I gotta say, it's bringing me down.” He means me.

Brev is usually all business, but that’s not who I’m dealing with this morning. This guy has been binging all night. Cautiously, I present the burned-up comm-pad to his confused face.

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