Taken By The Alien Next Door

by Tiffany Roberts

  He just looked at her and yawned.

  Stepping closer to the fence, Tabitha leaned forward and looked over it. Logan didn’t have a raised flowerbed on his side. Just a lovely, six-foot drop to the grass. “Oh, this is going to suck.”

  She grasped the top of the planks with both hands, tightening her hold carefully so she wouldn’t end up with palms full of splinters, and swung a leg over the fence. She extended her leg down until her toes touched one of the wooden beams that spanned the planks on the other side. Unfortunately, due to her height, that left the top of the slats digging into her crotch and ass.

  Tabitha winced. “So glad these are flat.”

  Pushing her weight down on her toes, she lifted her other leg over the fence, and once it was clear, she lowered that foot onto the beam beside the other.

  “Okay. Nearly there, Tabby.” Taking a deep breath, she let go of the fence and hopped down onto the grass.

  Her feet slammed onto the ground. The impact was jarring enough that it made her teeth clack together; it was the only sensation she had time to register before her feet slipped out from beneath her, unable to find traction on the damp grass. Tabitha’s eyes rounded, and she gasped. Her heart stopped as the world tilted. Then she hit the ground, and all the air rushed out of her lungs, stunning her, leaving her unable to breathe.

  She lay there staring up at the sky, remaining entirely still, and she’d swear that there were little stars dancing above her.

  Is this really how it ends for me? Killed by a three-foot fall into grass?

  Her body jolted as the shock wore off, and she took in a deep, gasping breath, filling her lungs with sweet, sweet air. She clutched a hand to her chest, just to confirm that her heart was beating, and she was still alive.

  “That dog is going to be the death me of,” she whispered.

  Get up, Tabby. How much more mortified will you be if Logan comes out right now and sees you like this?

  With a grunt, Tabitha rolled onto her hands and knees, brushed a hand on her pants, and ran her finger through her hair to tug it back from her face. She carefully got to her feet, wiping clingy blades of grass off her jeans. The denim covering her ass was wet, and her shirt clung to her back. The slight breeze blowing against it made a shiver course through her. Tugging on the hem of her shirt, she unpeeled the damp fabric from her skin.

  “I’ll just have to do that one more time,” she said with a cringe. “And hopefully not break my neck in the process.”

  Tabitha turned toward Logan’s patio—toward the dog blissfully curled up on a cushy chair.

  Dexter was so grounded. No treats for at least a month. It didn’t matter how many puppy-eyed looks he gave her.

  She hurried across the lawn to the house, pressing up against the siding. Dexter looked at her and tilted his head. His tail wagged.

  She pursed her lips, giving him a narrow-eyed glare.

  You are in trouble, she mouthed.

  He just licked his chops.

  She checked the window next to her; it was thankfully closed and covered by blinds. She ducked beneath it to be safe, and only as she was creeping closer to Dexter did she realize the sliding glass door ahead was open, with only the screen closed. Logan’s baritone voice was coming from inside, along with another unfamiliar voice.

  Damn it.

  Feeling like the nosiest neighbor in history, Tabitha listened to the muffled conversation. At first, she wondered if it was simply a matter of poor acoustics making it difficult to decipher their words, but she soon understood that they weren’t speaking English at all. It was a foreign language unlike anything she’d ever heard. There was a lyrical quality to it, but some of the words bore harsh edges that kept the language from being wholly musical.

  Still, she couldn’t help herself. She was brimming with curiosity. Brows creased, Tabitha eased closer to the door and peered inside. Her eyes widened.

  The interior lights were off, and with the curtains drawn it was relatively dark within—which only made the glowing hologram stand out even more. The image was reminiscent of an old sci-fi movie redone in high definition—a man’s disembodied head and shoulders in 3D, projected from Logan’s coffee table. The man was wearing some sort of strange uniform she didn’t recognize, and the tips of his ears tapered into points that would’ve put Legolas to shame. His eyes were glowing amber.

  That alone wasn’t so crazy. Maybe…maybe Logan was just a technophile or something, into really cutting-edge technology. Maybe he was playing a game. The latest in in-home 3D entertainment.

  But then Tabitha’s gaze shifted to Logan, who was seated on the couch in front of the hologram. He had been sitting back against the cushions, face tipped toward the ceiling, but as she watched, he leaned forward. He was shirtless, his sculpted muscles on full display, though she wasn’t really able to ogle them like she would’ve liked. Because there were strange, tribal-like tattoos on his arms—glowing tattoos.

  Okay, so…maybe he likes to wear glow-in-the-dark body paint while he’s hanging out at home?

  She caught a glimpse of his eyes and immediately understood that he was not wearing glowing body paint. His eyes were an even more intense blue than before, and they were putting out their own light, perfectly matching the color of the markings on his arms.

  And his ears were pointed, just like the man in the hologram—though Logan’s were adorned with a few gleaming piercings.

  Tabitha couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes off Logan, as he stood up. Two things struck her immediately—his nipples were pierced, too, and he had a freaking tail flicking through the air behind him like he was an agitated cat.

  No, not a cat. A lion. Complete with a tuft of fur at the tip of his tail.

  He and the man in the hologram exchanged a few more words, and the hologram vanished.

  Logan sighed and lifted a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it and shaking his head. There were dark claws on the tips of his fingers.

  Just when she’d thought he couldn’t possibly get any hotter…

  What was she thinking? He…he wasn’t human!

  Maybe he’s just a secretive but really, really serious cosplayer?

  Damn it, Tabby, get the dog and get out of there!

  Dexter, ever helpful, chose that moment to bark.

  Logan’s head snapped toward the door.

  Tabitha’s heart stopped. For an instant, all she could see of his face were those glowing orbs, so inhuman, so terrifying, so breathtaking. Ice formed in her veins.

  Tail stilling, Logan spat a single word—one with which Tabitha was quite familiar.

  “Fuck.”

  He darted toward the door.

  Tabitha let out a little cry that was definitely not a frightened shriek and shoved away from the house. Dexter leapt from the chair and ran in front of her as she raced back toward the fence.

  The screen door slammed against its frame. “Tabitha!”

  Arms pumping, breath short, and heart pounding, Tabitha pushed her ass faster than she ever had in her life.

  Why did I never take that horror movie advice and work on my damned cardio?

  Dexter, the traitor that he was, crawled through the hole under the fence, disappearing.

  Tabitha threw her arms out, grabbing at the top of the fence as she lifted a foot to step on the lower support beam. She was almost there, just a little farther…

  A powerful arm banded around her middle from behind. She gasped. As though her strength and weight were meaningless, she was plucked away from the fence. Both her feet were suddenly a long way from the ground.

  Before she could even scream, a big hand clamped over her mouth.

  I’m dead.

  Eight

  Curse words in half a dozen languages tumbled through Zevris’s mind as he pulled Tabitha against him. She struggled wildly, kicking her legs and swinging her arms. Her breath was hot against his palm as she tried to scream.

  He couldn’t help but notice how well she fit again
st him—how her luscious backside was pressed firmly to his pelvis, as though it were meant to be there.

  Damn it, if there is a right time for such thoughts, this is not it!

  He knew what he had to do in this situation; he’d trained for this inevitability, had dealt with it in the past. He’d been exposed. He’d exposed himself.

  That thought only had him cursing in his head again—the English phrase exposed himself was often used with a very specific meaning by modern humans, and he most certainly hadn’t done that.

  Zevris gritted his teeth and growled in pain as Tabitha grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. He turned his head sharply, rewarding himself with another flare of pain on his scalp, but thankfully broke her hold.

  As her struggles intensified, he tightened his hold on her and said, “Enough, Tabitha. I am not going to harm you.”

  For a moment, it seemed as though she were complying. Her thrashing ceased, and she drew in a deep, ragged breath through her nostrils.

  “Good,” he soothed. “Just breathe, and—”

  She released that breath in a scream so powerful that it nearly forced his hand away from her mouth. Her muscles strained, and her body trembled against him.

  Zevris’s brows fell low. He glanced from side to side and up at the nearby second-story windows, scanning his surroundings; he was tall enough to look over the six-foot-tall privacy fences, and no other humans were in sight. But it was only a matter of time before one of the neighbors was alerted to this situation and it became even messier.

  Tabitha’s muffled scream finally ended, and she relaxed. The reprieve was short lived. Not a second later, she resumed her struggles with renewed strength.

  Releasing another growl, Zevris turned and carried her toward his dwelling.

  As they reached the open door, Tabitha lifted her legs and spread them wide, planting one foot on the door frame and the other on the screen door. That stance only pressed her more firmly against him. This was not how he’d envisioned having her body flush with his; these were not the circumstances for which he’d longed.

  Zevris pushed forward, and she poured surprising strength into her legs, halting his momentum. The weak frame of the screen door buckled under her foot, causing part of it to pop off the rails.

  Though he could have easily overpowered her, doing so would have placed her at risk of injury, and Zevris had not lied. He would never hurt Tabitha. He took a step backward, and her legs fell, one of her heels bumping his shin. Spinning around, he walked through the doorway backward.

  Tabitha said something against his hand—he wasn’t certain, but it sounded like a curse—and threw her legs up again, hooking her feet on either side of the doorway. Her resistance slowed Zevris for a moment, but she could not find strong enough purchase to stop him this time. Both her feet slipped, and again her legs fell, but not before he saw the angry red lines on the tops of her feet.

  A pang of guilt struck his chest, yet he did not hesitate. He turned around again, putting his back to the door, and curled the end of his tail around the handle. With a twist of his hips, he dragged the glass door shut. A flick of his tail engaged the lock, and a signal from his neural transceiver activated the forcefields at every door and window in the residence along with the sound dampeners.

  Now that his dwelling was secure, he took a moment to breathe. He should’ve been used to things going wrong so quickly, should’ve been accustomed to sudden bursts of action, but his stay on Earth had been so quiet, so peaceful, so uneventful, that he’d let his guard down.

  Why had she been in his yard? Why had she happened to come just then, when he was uncloaked and speaking to his commander, the one time he’d forgotten to close the door?

  A sharp pain on his hand swept those questions aside. Zevris hissed through his fangs as the pain intensified—he’d never imagined how much a bite from those relatively flat human teeth could hurt, but Tabitha was certainly demonstrating the potential now.

  He dropped her onto her feet as he attempted to pry his hand from the viselike hold of her teeth, which had clamped down over part of his palm and the knuckle of his pointer finger. Zevris didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late. Her new position meant her backside was no longer against his pelvis.

  Tabitha twisted her torso aside and swung her hand backward. Her fist struck his scrotum—which was offered no protection by his sweatpants—with the force of one of those huge wrecking balls humans used to demolish buildings.

  A supernova of pain blasted outward from the point of impact, so overwhelming that it dropped Zevris to a knee. Tabitha wrenched herself out of his hold and ran for the front door.

  Again, when he’d yearned for her touch on his cock, he’d had something rather different in mind. He clenched his teeth and cupped his groin, trying to breathe through the pain as his runaway mate-to-be tugged on the doorknob and fumbled with the locks.

  “Someone help me!” She pounded the door with her fists.

  “Tabitha,” Zevris rasped, bracing a hand on his knee and shoving himself back to his feet. His stomach lurched, and a tight, impossibly heavy lump of agony sank low in his belly. He forced himself toward her.

  She turned her head and caught sight of him. Her eyes widened, and after a brief search, she grabbed the carved stone tray—meant primarily to hold house keys—from atop the stand beside the door and raised it as though it were a weapon. The keys that had been in the tray fell to the floor with a jangling clank.

  “Stay away,” she warned.

  Zevris paused in the entrance of the foyer, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself as another wave of agony nearly made him double over. “I need you to calm down, Tabitha.”

  “And I need you to let me out. Now.”

  He trailed his gaze over her. Blades of grass clung to her bare feet, her shirt was slightly twisted, and part of its hem had worked its way under the waistband of her pants. Her hair was loose and wild around her heaving shoulders, and her face was flushed.

  He’d wanted to see her like this, but he’d wanted it to be in the wake of their mating, not after he’d been forced to take her prisoner against her will. Not with that fear gleaming in her eyes.

  Zevris clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared with a heavy exhalation. “We both know I cannot.”

  “You can. Just…just open the door. Please. I never saw anything.”

  “Tabitha…” He took another step toward her.

  She hurled the stone tray at him.

  He shoved away from the wall. Even for beings as tough as falorans, the tray was heavy enough—and jagged enough in some spots—to have caused serious injury.

  The tray whooshed through the air mere inches from his face, and his eyes followed it as it struck the wall, punching a deep gouge in the drywall, and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. It left a few noticeable dents and scratches on the floorboards. Flakes of the slate-like material lay scattered on the floor around the tray.

  Brows low, Zevris returned his attention to Tabitha.

  Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. She looked from the tray to the hole in the wall and finally met Zevris’s gaze. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of apologizing.

  Instead, she bent forward and snatched the keys off the floor. He did not understand why, considering the keyholes were on the exterior side of the door, until she took the keyring in her palm and positioned the keys to jut out from between the fingers of her closed fist like metal claws.

  A grin teased at Zevris’s lips, but he held it back. My mate has claws.

  Apparently, humans were adept at improvising weapons even when they were not combat trained. That was valuable information. But he didn’t waste time considering it further—he didn’t want any more damage inflicted upon his dwelling, didn’t want any more damage inflicted upon his body, and most certainly didn’t want any more damage inflicted upon Tabitha.

  As she stood upright, Zevris darted toward her.

  She gasped and thrust her a
rm out, swinging her little fist and its key-claws at him, but she wasn’t fast enough.

  Catching her wrist in one hand, Zevris tugged her extended arm out further, forcing her to take a stumbling step forward. His leg was there to meet hers. Tabitha cried out and fell face first, throwing her free arm out in front of her to brace for the impact.

  Zevris spun so he was behind her, looping an arm around her waist to ease her fall. She landed lightly on her hand and knees. He lowered himself atop her, his pelvis once again pressed against her enticing backside, and forced her flat on the floor, pinning her in place with his body.

  Before she could react, he shifted his hand to hers and pried the keys from her grasp. He tossed them toward the stand in the corner blindly. All that mattered was that they were out of her reach.

  She wiggled beneath him, her ass rubbing against his groin and sending ripples of pleasure—laced with lingering pain—through his cock. He tightened his hold on her and pressed his face into her hair. Her scent enveloped him like a cloud, dominating his senses.

  Heated blood rushed to his shaft, which throbbed and hardened with blossoming desire.

  “Tabitha,” he groaned and ground his erection against her.

  Her breath hitched, and she stilled. “W-What are you doing?”

  Zevris clenched his jaw. All he had to do was lift his head, and he could find an escape from her maddening fragrance, he could find some clarity. But he could not bring himself to do so. The feel of her silky, tousled hair tickling his skin and her soft, warm body beneath his was too delightful to end. He curled his tail around her calf.

  Ah, no. Not like this. No.

  He snarled and pushed himself back, taking not even a second to think as he lifted Tabitha over his shoulder and stood upright. She gasped and slapped her hands against his bare back, producing a sting as thrilling as it was painful. Zevris’s tail darted up, coiled around her wrists, and forced them together.

  “I will not harm you, Tabitha,” he grated through his fangs.

  As he climbed the stairs, she begged him to let her go, begged him to release her, swore she would never say a word about any of this. By the time he reached his bedroom—it couldn’t have taken more than half a minute—his chest ached, and his gut was churning.