The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

  He cupped her breasts, squeezing them. Chelsey was on the point of informing him that she wasn’t currently in the ‘mood’ when he asked, “Any tenderness in the nipples?”

  “You mean aside from the tenderness from having you gnaw on them half the night?” she asked cattily. She discovered he was glaring at her. “Not that I noticed, but now that you mention it they do feel a little sore.”

  He ran his hands over her sides and then lightly pressed on her belly, as if he was feeling around for something. “Any tenderness here?”

  “I don’t have an appendix!” she responded irritably. “Seriously, Garryk, I don’t feel like playing doctor right now.”

  “Still nauseated?” he asked, focusing on the middle of her belly and digging his fingers into the soft flesh.

  Chelsey considered it. “A little,” she said finally. “I must have had something that disagreed with me.”

  He grunted, but she couldn’t decide whether he was agreeing or not. “Just lie still, baby. I’ll get something to help that.”

  “I need to call the school and tell them I’m going to be late,” she muttered.

  “What’s the number? I’ll call them.”

  Reluctance fluttered through her, but she thought if she could just lie perfectly still for a little bit the nausea would go away. She gave him the number. He disappeared and she could hear him on the phone. Relieved, she drifted toward sleep, drowsing.

  * * * *

  Garryk was so shaken when the woman at the other end of the line picked up, it took him a moment to focus on what she said. “This is Doctor Sinclair at Parker Memorial—I’m calling for Chelsey Ledger. She came in a little bit ago complaining of nausea. I’m sending her home to rest for the day.”

  He could tell he’d thrown the woman for a loop since doctors didn’t usually do such a thing, but he hadn’t thought Chelsey would want him to tell them it was her boyfriend calling. “Dr. Who?”

  “Sinclair.” He spelled it. “I’m on the emergency room staff—Parker Memorial.”

  Bitch, he thought when he hung up. She was bound to check. He just hoped she was satisfied when she discovered he was on staff and didn’t ask about Chelsey. Shrugging it off, he headed into the kitchen to search the cabinets for saltines. He found those but he discovered without much surprise that she didn’t have any ginger ale. She didn’t have an alternative that would do either.

  He debated whether to leave her long enough to go after some or not and finally decided he needed to. Nausea was one thing, the vomiting …. They’d eaten too late, he decided.

  He hoped that was it, anyway. She was going to be so pissed off she was going to be ready to choke him if this turned out to be a daily thing.

  He grinned abruptly, allowing the sense of excitement and triumph he’d been holding onto to rush through him. He felt downright lightheaded. Discovering his hands were shaking, he shook his head at himself and went to the door of the bedroom to tell her he needed to go out for ginger ale.

  She was asleep. Again, he debated, wondering if she would get up and head to work if he wasn’t there to keep her in bed. Deciding on a compromise after a moment, he scribbled a note, threatening to beat her ass if she wasn’t in the bed when he got back, and placed it beside her with the saltines and instructions to nibble on them.

  Euphoria filled him as he jogged down the stairs to his bike. Unless he was very much mistaken his baby had a bun in the oven! Now all he had to do was figure out whether it would be better to wait until she figured it out herself and offer to marry her or try to keep her distracted until it was too late for her to do anything about it, and then offer to marry her.

  It was underhanded. He knew it, but he couldn’t think of anything else that would more swiftly or surely sweep aside any objections or excuses she might think of, and he was tired of waiting, Jods damn it! He wouldn’t have minded courting her a while if it wasn’t for that son-of-a-bitch she was married to, but he could see the bastard had royally fucked things up for him—and would try to get in his way.

  That might have amounted to little more than an annoyance if he’d been a native. Under the circumstances he had to consider that it might lead to complete disaster.

  The spy the bastard had hired hadn’t done a thing for his nerves! He’d thought for a little while—until he’d tracked the man back to his lair and seen he was reporting to her ex—that government men had somehow managed to track him down.

  He thought it would’ve been hard enough to convince Chelsey if it had only been the nightmare of a marriage she’d just ended. The bastard just couldn’t be satisfied, though! He was using her son to make her afraid to even try a new relationship and he sure as hell wasn’t in any position to do anything about it—not until he had Chelsey shackled anyway.

  He had her now, though, he thought with a shaky, but pleased, grin as he pulled into the parking lot of the nearest convenience store! It was a lucky thing that he’d already switched the engine off and kicked the stand down before the other side of the coin fully sank in. It abruptly hit him right in the gut, though, and a wave of dizziness washed over him.

  His baby had his baby in her belly, he thought, suddenly nearly as terrified as he was awed at the thought of a son. “Gezis,” he muttered, wondering if he’d been suffering from temporary insanity. Maybe he should ask her before she found out? She might shoot him first and ask questions later when she found out—if she found out—what he’d done!

  He wished abruptly that he was more certain. He’d been pushing it to examine her like he had, though. He was pretty sure she’d be suspicious if he tried a more thorough pelvic exam. In any case, as early as it was, a blood or urine test was the only way to be a hundred percent and he sure as hell couldn’t think of any way to manage that!

  ‘Piss in the cup for me, baby! Yeah! That really turns me on!’

  He shook his head. No way he could slip that one past her, he thought wryly.

  * * * *

  “Good to see you back,” the secretary in the office said pleasantly when she saw Chelsey.

  Chelsey smiled her appreciation. “It’s good to be back—better yet, good to be past that flu.”

  The secretary gave her a commiserating look. “God! I hope it doesn’t go around! Dr. Sinclair must be a friend?”

  Chelsey felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at the woman in horror for a split second before she thought to paste a brittle smile on her lips. “Yeah—we go way back—gotta go!”

  A cold sweat broke from her pores as she scurried down the hall to her classroom. What had Garryk been thinking to tell them he was a doctor? She hoped to god that nosey old bitch in the office hadn’t decided to call the hospital and check up on him, and her excuse! She was going to be trouble if the woman had!

  She managed to get a grip by sheer determination of will as she reached her classroom, but she was a long way from calm! She was more focused on trying to decide if the woman seemed to have been baiting her—or if she hadn’t actually checked and had just decided the excuse was fiction—than she was on preparing for class.

  Maybe that was what the remark about Garryk being a friend had been about? A play for more dirt?

  She realized after a moment that there really hadn’t been anything Garryk could’ve said that wouldn’t have aroused suspicion. Well, if he’d said he was her friend, or boyfriend, they probably wouldn’t have even entertained the possibility that she really was sick! Still …! Doctor?

  Reflecting that her life had begun to seem like a series of nightmares interspersed with almost hysterical highs, she began to wonder if she was developing some kind of mental disorder or if her life really was seesawing out of control. She didn’t think it was pure overactive imagination, though.

  The fight with Marla had taken her to an all time low and then, when it had seemed like she was facing complete disaster and utter ruin, Garryk made everything wonderful again. They’d had fun! They’d followed it with great sex—and then she’d woken
up the next morning with stomach flu!

  Weird stomach flu! She’d felt vaguely nauseated half the day after worshipping at the porcelain altar and then perfectly fine until the next morning when it had hit her almost as bad as the day before. By day three, she’d been ready to head for the hospital even though she really hated hospitals and she hated what they cost even more! Fortunately, Garryk had come to her rescue, again—by way of a friend who had had some of his medication for nausea left over after his own bout with the flu—Not something she would ordinarily have considered! But she’d already missed three days of work!

  She still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, but it was a definite improvement over the way she had been feeling!

  She was almost inclined to think it was food poisoning rather than the stomach flu, but it was hard to dismiss the fact that it hadn’t seemed to affect Garryk and he’d eaten pretty much the same things she had.

  And to get back to work, finally, and discover the old bat in the office suspected she’d been sand bagging!

  Despite her anxiety, she didn’t get summoned to the office for an interrogation. Relieved, still feeling wrung out from being sick for days, she trudged homeward after work, more depressed because she didn’t even have company to look forward to. Garryk would be working both jobs since it was Thursday and she wasn’t likely to see him unless she sat up until all hours—which she actually couldn’t afford to do when she’d already missed three work days herself. If she stayed up, she’d be half dead the next day.

  The significance of the next day didn’t hit until she woke up from a nap and got up to look for something to eat. Actually, it didn’t hit her until Larry called. She almost broke her neck to get to the phone when she heard him calling out to her on the answering machine.

  “Larry?” she gasped a little breathlessly. “Hi!”

  “Hi,” he said coolly. “Look, I just called to tell you not to pick me up tomorrow.”

  A dozen thoughts and emotions collided inside her at the same time. She’d forgotten she was supposed to have him for the weekend! How in the world could she forget something like that? What on earth was she going to do about Garryk?

  “You still there?”

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “When did you want me to pick you up?”

  “I don’t. Dad said I didn’t have to go over there anymore.”

  Blinding anger abruptly ousted everything else from her mind. “That isn’t his decision,” she said tightly, struggling to get her anger under control, and then added in a placating tone, “I haven’t seen you in a month, baby. I was looking forward to this weekend.”

  “I’m not a baby. And Dad says I don’t have to go anymore and he’ll take you back to court if you don’t watch your ass!”

  “Larry!” Chelsey snapped. “I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, young man! I happen to be your mother!”

  “Dad’s gonna marry Lila. She’s going to be my mother from now on.”

  “Stepmother,” Chelsey managed tightly. “I’m your mother.”

  “Whatever. I gotta go. Dad said to call you and tell you not to come.”

  He hung up before she could say anything else. The impulse to call right back and demand to speak to his father was so strong she was shaking with it. She hung the phone up instead and moved to the couch, trying to think, trying to calm herself.

  She realized after a moment that she’d done the right thing. She wasn’t in any frame of mind for a battle with Lawrence. She needed to think.

  She discovered it didn’t actually take much effort to understand the threat.

  Lawrence had found out about Garryk.

  That had to be it. Wrack her mind though she might, she couldn’t come up with another thing that he could possibly think would give him the leverage to oust her completely from Larry’s life. In any case, it was what she’d feared from the start.

  The question was, did he know all about Garryk? Or just some of it? How far back into Garryk’s background would he check? Or did he just figure it was enough that he was an exotic dancer?

  Angry frustration filled her, bringing her to the verge of tears—again, but she was more angry than anything else. There was nothing wrong with the way Garryk made his living, damn it! It wasn’t as if he would be strolling around the apartment naked—or dancing! Of course he did, but that was when it was just the two of them and there was no reason to worry about it!

  She’d just begun to feel like Garryk was actually interested in a relationship. He’d been so sweet to her when she’d been sick, running to the store to get all sorts of things he thought she might eat! He’d taken care of her.

  Lawrence hadn’t done things like that for her and he’d been her husband! Actually, just the opposite. Not only had he not helped her when she was sick, he’d complained if she ‘laid in the bed’ and didn’t do her chores!

  And he’d made that remark about her being his woman, too!

  Well, not actually. It had been a sort of vague reference to the way he’d feel about his woman being an exotic dancer, but he’d said it in a way that had suggested he meant her!

  Well! Lawrence could just go fuck himself! He wasn’t her husband anymore and he damned well didn’t have a right to dictate who she could see and who she couldn’t! She could’ve seen a judge siding with Lawrence if she’d been living with Garryk, but she wasn’t—not really. He still had his own apartment—she was sure he did.

  Besides, he’d already said he was going to quit dancing soon. And she sure as hell didn’t think he was likely to be a bad influence on Larry if his father wasn’t!

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t the judge and she couldn’t completely convince herself that she could convince the judge—if Lawrence took it that far, and she was sure he would! Any excuse to make her life hell!

  She was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, feeling curiously empty when Garryk came in. She lifted her head and stared at him in surprise. “I thought you had to work at the club tonight?”

  He frowned, studying her. “I do,” he said slowly. “I thought I’d come by and check on you first, though.”

  She smiled with an effort. “That’s so sweet! I hope it wasn’t far out of your way. I’m fine.”

  He moved to the couch and dropped down beside her, curling an arm around her. “You don’t look fine. Is there a problem? Are you sick?”

  Chelsey sighed and leaned against him, enjoying the sense of security she felt with his arm around her. “No. No problem. I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “Actually … uh … I guess I wasn’t really thinking about anything.”

  “And this nothing made you look like someone took your last cookie and you cried about it?” he murmured, turning to pull her more fully against his chest.

  Chelsey swallowed with an effort as a knot rose in her throat and managed a halfhearted chuckle. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t know why I’ve been so weepy lately. It’s probably just my pe … riod.” A wave of cold washed over her, making her stumble over the last word. Panic followed it as she struggled to remember the last time she’d had her period and discovered she couldn’t.

  Garryk felt her tense, realized it had just dawned on her that she hadn’t had a cycle since they’d been together. He wrestled with the urge to prompt her and an equal urge to distract her. The latter seemed the safest bet at the moment, but he couldn’t think of a damned thing because his own mind was fixed firmly on the subject she’d brought up. He brushed a kiss on the top of her head, fighting the sudden desire to retreat, and cleared his throat. “You didn’t get bad news or anything? Trouble at work?”

  Chelsey sent him a wide eyed, hunted look. “No,” she said quickly.

  Her face was paper white despite the denial and Garryk couldn’t decide if it was just her sudden realization that she might be pregnant or if there was something else. “You sure you’re ok, baby?”

&nb
sp; “I’m fine!” she said quickly and pasted a fake smile on her lips. “Don’t worry about me! You should probably go. I know you don’t want to be late for work.”

  There was enough panic in her voice to kill Garryk’s craven urge to retreat. “I’m not worried about it. I was planning on quitting soon anyway. If they fire me, I don’t give a fuck.”

  “Yes, but I do! You said you needed to work at least another month … and there’s no sense in risking the job when I’m just fine.”

  “I’d be more convinced if you looked fine,” Garryk said, an edge to his voice. “What’s going on with you, Chelsey?”

  Chelsey stared at him a long moment and looked away. She’d been doing her best, damn it! She wasn’t going to tell him about Lawrence’s latest stunt—because she was afraid he might be tempted to do something she would regret! And she sure as hell didn’t want to talk about the idea that had popped into her mind! “I think I’m just really tired,” she said finally.

  His arms tightened around her. “Alright, baby. I’ll quit bothering you.”

  “You aren’t bothering me. I’m glad you came. I’ll probably be asleep when you get in … uh … you were coming back tonight?”

  “I come back every night, don’t I?”

  He had been, she realized abruptly—every single night since that first night he’d come—even when he only curled up next to her and went to sleep.

  Did that constitute living with her, she wondered?

  “Did you eat?”

  She thought about it. “I was going to … uh ….” And then Larry had called and she’d been too upset to give it a thought since. “I got side tracked.”

  “Well don’t eat anything too heavy. It’s late now to be eating, but you’re liable to be sick in the morning if you don’t.”

  Tipping her head up, he kissed her and got up. “I’ll be late.”

  Chelsey nodded, but he’d already strode into her bedroom. He returned a few moments later with the bag he usually carried with him. She smiled with an effort when he paused at the door and turned back to look at her. “Be careful!”