WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series

by Alana Khan

  I don’t want to think about the last decade. That would make me both melancholy and furious. I’d rather pay attention to the attraction arcing between us like a living thing.

  “Willa. Join me,” my tone is warm, persuasive.

  A picture of what she was doing this morning flies into my mind with as much clarity as anything that happened in my shifted form. How lovely she was when she pressed her head back against her pillow, her mouth open in a small ‘o’. The swiftness of her hand circling between her legs. The soft, desperate noises she made when she got close, and the long, low satisfied moan when she reached her climax.

  My cock is rock hard when I remember that. My canine nose comes alive beneath my skin as I recreate it in my memory—the spicy bite and allure of her scent. When I glance at her again, I’m sure my desire is clear as my gaze burns through her.

  Take her, mate her. My canine whines and nudges. I push him back and assure him that’s the plan.

  “I could ease you,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as rough to her as it does to me. “I could give you more than you gave yourself this morning.”

  By her reaction, this wasn't the right thing to say. Her lids fly wide, as does her mouth. She paces backward until her back hits the wall. Her small hands fly up, palms toward me as if to keep me away although I’m lying on my back. I doubt she even knows she’s doing it.

  What did I do wrong? I sniff again, four little breaths and one long one. I’m certain I’m right. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air. There must be something I don’t understand. My memories are still shrouded in fog with only little snippets of clarity.

  I have no doubt, though, that in my pack, we expressed our desires freely with willing partners in both two- and four-legged form until we mated. Then my species never stray from their mates. In my head WarDog whines in confusion and distress and it’s all I can do not to make the same sound out loud.

  “Willa?”

  “What?”

  “I desire you.”

  “Yeah, that’s obvious.” Her gaze flicks to the tent my cock is making under the covers.

  “You desire me,” I point out the obvious, my head cocked because I don’t comprehend the problem.

  “No. I don’t.”

  I breathe in loudly through my nose. “Yes. You do.”

  Her eyes prick with tears. She looks surprised and ashamed, then shakes her head.

  “You’re mistaken. And why are we having this discussion? We just met.”

  “You said you’ve known me for three lunars.”

  “Well, yeah . . . No, I've known you for two hours. I knew WarDog for three lunars.”

  “I am that canine. Weren’t you there when I shifted?”

  “We’ve exchanged maybe a hundred words. All of them in the last few hours. That’s how long I’ve known you.” She’s angry. I don’t understand why. Her mind wants one thing but her body desires something else.

  “You’re angry. What did I do?”

  She takes a deep breath as a thousand emotions flit across her face. They shift from surprise to anger to sadness then circle back to anger.

  “We just met. We’ve known each other for two hours and you’ve propositioned me. That’s rude.”

  “It is? I smell your need. I offered to ease you.” I’m baffled. Perhaps my translator is old and needs an update. But that couldn’t be it. I can read the expression on her face without benefit of translation. She’s furious, and hurt.

  WarDog, as he now wants to be called, is anxious and pacing inside my head. He releases one plaintive whine.

  “You do not smell my need. That’s rude. It is not something we talk about in polite society.”

  “Okay. I won’t mention it again.” This conversation is making my head ache.

  She dips her face into her hands, her shoulders sagging. I smell her tears. I’ve made her cry. Willa, the kindest person in my life in the last decade, and I’ve somehow saddened her by offering to ease her.

  I climb out of bed and walk to her, then fold her into my arms.

  Bending my head to her ear, I whisper, “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I wanted to provide pleasure, not pain.”

  Instead of comforting her, I hear her sobs. Now I’ve made her weep. I know I’ve been in my shifted form for a long time, but did things change that much since I’ve been gone? How could I make such a mess of this?

  “I’m sorry.” I pet her head like she’s petted mine since I’ve known her.

  “You’re naked!” she moans as she presses her palms against my chest and half-heartedly pushes me away.

  Trying to comply with her wishes, I take a step back, my head cocked to her level so I can discern what she’s thinking.

  “You’re aroused!” she accuses.

  “Yes. You’re beautiful.” Certainly this compliment should calm her.

  “Bayne!” Her tone doesn’t sound calmer. She’s scolding me and getting angrier.

  “I’ve been away a long time, Willa. Explain what I’ve done wrong. I only want to ease you.”

  “Sit!” she orders, pointing to the bed. In my mind, WarDog immediately complies and sits, urging me to do likewise.

  I back up until the backs of my legs hit the bed, then sit down.

  “No. I mean lie down.”

  I do.

  “Under the covers!” she sounds exasperated.

  I climb under the covers, my eyes never leaving hers, assuming there will be another order in a moment, like dance, or twirl in a circle, or make sounds like the tree-dwelling animals that used to jump from limb to limb on Skylose.

  “What did I do?” I ask again.

  Crying now, she blindly reaches for a chair, pulls it toward the doorway, and sits.

  “I didn’t know you were a human. I mean a humanoid. I thought you were a dog.”

  “I understand,” I tell her, nodding my head, encouraging her to say more, even as I don’t understand at all.

  “I . . . told you things. Secret things. Things people don’t readily divulge to other people.”

  Oh. She told me things. My canine brain doesn’t really understand a great deal of the higher-level things that happen in my shifted form. It’s primitive. It understands raw emotion, strong orders, urgent words, and bodily needs. But everything Willa told me seemed urgent. I remember a lot of what she told me.

  “And you watched me . . . darn! I can’t even say it out loud.”

  I watched her pleasure herself. Not just this morning, but many times. I loved watching that. I loved everything about it. I loved the smell, yes, my canine loves many smells, but none more than that. But I loved the way her face flushed. I loved her little moans of pleasure. I loved the way her relaxed muscles felt when she snuggled me afterward. By the look on her face, I get the message I should never bring any of these things up with her. Never.

  Willa

  Look at his face. Dear God, he’s so alien . . . and so handsome. And miserable, as if I’ve confused him so badly he doesn’t know what to do. As much as I’d like to make him into the bad guy, he’s not. I’m just so freaking embarrassed.

  I should explain this to him. It’s just, what do you say? I told you about everything in my entire life thinking I was talking to a dog and it turned out you’re a man . . . a male.

  I cradle my face in my hands again and breathe, trying to think. By the look on his face, I’ve confused the shit out of him. I want to help him understand what’s going on with me. But before I can do that, my mind has to punish me with a rolling movie of everything I divulged to him over the last three months.

  Go ahead, I tell myself. Remind me of all the shit I spilled to him under cover of darkness. There were the things I did that were slightly embarrassing, like cheating in grade school, and saying mean things to schoolkids before I developed a good filter. Those were nothing. I’d feel okay about doing a standup comedy routine about them.

  It’s the stuff from Junior High and beyond where things get dicey. The fum
bled first kisses. The stupid things I told girlfriends that resulted in learning to never tell anyone my deepest thoughts because they would be splattered all over the Junior High grapevine or worse, Facebook, within an hour.

  The mortifying first fumblings on second and third base with the wrong boys. Losing my virginity and having it mentioned derisively on social media. I socially hibernated for years after that.

  I peek through the gap between my hands to glance at the male on the bed in front of me. He’s sitting up against the headboard, just waiting for me. His face is sweet, impassive, as if he’ll sit like that all day until I figure out what to do.

  And here he is, coming out of a long hibernation of his own. You’d think he’d be more interested in regaining his life, or creating a new one. Anything other than spending his first day back on two legs waiting for a crazy Earth female to explain her seesawing emotions.

  “I told you embarrassing things, Bayne. And I masturbated in front of you.” There. I said it.

  He nods. As if this is nothing. As if I’m telling him what I had for dinner last night. But, of course, he knows that too.

  “Just looking at you, knowing you know every embarrassing moment of my life, makes me uncomfortable. I need some time.”

  “Okay.”

  Perhaps he doesn’t know what that expression means. Any Earth male would know that it’s code-speak for ‘I’m breaking up with you and you should get out of my fucking bed’. Obviously, the Skylosian did not get the memo, because there’s still a tent under the covers and he hasn’t moved a muscle. In fact, he’s still looking at me expectantly, perhaps waiting for me to join him in bed and let him ‘ease’ me.

  “And it’s rude to ask a woman to have sex when you’ve only known her a few hours. You shouldn't ask me again,” I instruct.

  “After how many hoaras is it not considered rude?”

  At this, my mouth actually pops open in surprise. Look at his face! It’s so sincere. He doesn’t even realize how impolite that question was. Actually, if I allow myself to see it, his artless innocence is endearing. But right now I don’t want to acknowledge that.

  “So, you’re going to pull on some clothes and we’re going to march to the bridge and have them assign you a room of your own. You aren’t going to be sleeping in my room anymore.”

  He cocks his head in a very familiar way. He did this as WarDog and it never failed to earn him a pat on his head because he was so adorable. He’s definitely adorable now, but I need to force that out of my mind.

  “No problem. I can shift back to my canine form and sleep with you that way. I won’t ask to share pleasure with you again.”

  I scan his face, looking for the telltale signs that he’s teasing me, but he’s so freaking sincere it squeezes my heart.

  “Nope. Separate cabins. I just realized you have no clothes. Wait right here and I’ll borrow some for you. I’ll be back.”

  I scurry out, palm the door closed, and lean against it as I take deep breaths. My life has spiraled out of control in the span of a few hours.

  After borrowing clean clothes from one of the males and getting Bayne a cabin assignment from Callista, I return to find him sitting where I left him. It strikes me that he’s been a dog for a long time, forced to sit and wait when ordered to do so.

  In fact, I used to do that to him. He’d happily sit and wait for me when I told him to. Until this moment, I’ve felt guilty for kicking him out of my cabin. Now I realize it’s a kindness. He needs to figure out who he is, and he’ll never be able to do that living in this room with me.

  Chapter Four

  One month later . . .

  Bayne

  “Nice job today,” Stryker tells me as I gulp a bottle of water.

  I’ve figured out my body temperature runs hotter than most others on this vessel, perhaps that’s why I’m sweating more than my sparring partner. I don’t care how uncomfortable I am, though, I work out every day, most days twice.

  I like sparring with Stryker, he’s an excellent fighter, and patient as can be with me. All the males have pitched in to teach me different skills: the trident, the gladius sword, even chainsticks. I like the broadsword best, though. It feels good in my hands. I like the heft of it, and it’s reassuring to sheathe it behind my back when I’m done.

  I’ve taken to walking through the halls of the ship with it, enjoying the weight of it on my back and the feeling of being at the ready. I even shifted with it on once, to make sure I could step out of the sheath and be in shape to fight in my canine form if necessary.

  Having fought for so long as a canine, I like owning and carrying metal. It reminds me of all the power I have at my disposal as a humanoid. None of the weapons nor the fighting skills feel familiar to me except for the bow and arrow. The males speculate that I must come from a tribe that were hunters, not warriors. I still don’t have any memories of that time but I assume they are correct.

  “Are you coming to the party tonight?” Stryker asks as he returns his gladius to the weapons room.

  “I . . .” All the power I felt over the last hoara as I fought with Stryker drains out of me and WarDog whimpers like a pup. I feel like a youngling again.

  “I see how you look at Willa. A blind male could see it, Bayne. Come tonight. Ask her to dance. Hold her in your arms. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky.” He winks at me. His big red body and scarred face could scare a stranger when he does this, but I know he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he’s in the arena or in the line of duty as security.

  Yes, take her, hold her, make her ours. WarDog encourages as he sits up straighter, ears pricked.

  “She wants nothing to do with me. I’ll be in my cabin studying my people’s history and looking at pictures of my planet. Maybe I’ll get my memories back.”

  “I’ve watched her, too. She ignores you when you’re watching, but her eyes follow every move you make when you’re occupied. Every. Move. I smell her arousal. I’m surprised you can’t since you have a canine nose. You don’t smell it bloom whenever you’re around?”

  “She told me that’s not what it is.”

  Stryker’s bark of laughter is so loud it could probably be heard at the other end of the ship. “Just because you find her soft and kind and beautiful doesn’t mean she can’t lie, Bayne. Her lips might tell you she’s not interested, but her body is shouting its desire.”

  “Really?” Yes, yes, yes, agrees WarDog.

  I figure I’m in my late twenties, but much of the time I feel at least a decade younger. My annums in my shifted shape were lost in many ways. I didn’t grow up. Stryker’s female, Maddie, tells me this last lunar has been an ‘emotional growth spurt’ for me. She’s befriended me in many ways including cooking special dishes for me.

  Perhaps I should have known Willa was lying when she denied her interest, or maybe Stryker doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  “Come tonight my friend, or Maddie and I will show up at your door and drag you. Wear the black leather kilt Dax helped you make. The females seem to love when we wear them. See you tonight.”

  He strides out of the ludus where we’ve been sparring, leaving me alone in here. My thoughts stray to the morning in Willa’s cabin before we went to Aeon II. I replay the moments when her hand furiously circled her sex under the covers. The scent of her pleasure was so rich it’s as if I can still smell it. Even now, my ears ring with every remembered pant and moan.

  I want that again. No. Not that. I don’t want to be covered in fur and lurking on the sidelines. I want to be a Skylosian male whose cock brings her pleasure. I want her wrists securely bound in my hand so she has to rely on me and only me to make her come.

  The only way to do that is to show up at the dance tonight and let her see I’m not the compliant pup I was when she met me. In my mind, WarDog gives an enthusiastic woof of encouragement.

  Willa

  I check my image in the mirror once more, even as I shake my head, disapproving of this whole idea. I ha
d no intention of going to the party tonight. Everyone on board is paired up in one way or another. From mated pairs to occasional sex partners. And then there’s me. And Bayne.

  He’s changed a lot over the last month. My mouth quirks in the mirror, amplifying my dismay. He’s no longer the male who sat paralyzed in my bed awaiting my return a month ago, willing to follow my every command as if he was still a canine.

  No. Now I watch him stride through the hallways with a sense of purpose, sometimes with a wide sword on his back as if he’s Conan the Barbarian. He’s powerful, and sexy, and . . . no longer interested in me.