Craved by an Alien

by Amanda Milo

I don’t know how many cows I ate—and I could go back for double what I consumed—but she was thinking of me.

  Gryfala provide well for males who please them. Not that I’m comparing her to one, but I wonder if there’s any similarity in this human’s gesture.

  The bag is in good enough condition to contain the empty, useless papers, and I’m preparing to get rid of it by way of a small ball of flame when she bats the smoke away from my nose, lifts the bag daintily by the corner, and throws it into a park receptacle overflowing with refuse.

  “I could—

  She pats my hand, making my whole arm tingle. “I think what you have in mind will draw too much attention.” Instead of licking any cow and catch-up residue from her hands, or asking me to lick them clean—she wastes it on the thighs of her dark pants. “What’s next?”

  By the Creator. Even the children knew to lick their hands clean instead of letting the juice and flavor go to waste.

  Would it be rude if I licked her legs?

  I glance up from her thighs to find her head cocked and her eyes narrowing and I decide I don’t know her well enough to gauge if she’d appreciate this or if I’d find the flat of her palm connecting with my ear.

  I look down at the children, who appear full-bellied and are rapidly growing drowsy-eyed. “I came here hoping to find jetpacks, but Levi tells me the establishment to obtain them is no more.”

  “Well,” she starts. “It never was, technically.”

  I feel my ears cock in different directions.

  “We don’t have jetpacks.” Her gaze is apologetic—and her stare is square-on. “They’re a made-up, a make-believe…”

  I don’t even care what she’s telling me: she’s gotten so comfortable with me she’s meeting my eyes without trouble and I want more.

  “They only exist in stories,” she finishes. “They’re popular in comics, but we don’t yet have the technology to make them.”

  My hearts sink—but only for Crispin’s sake.

  Briskly, I roll out a blanket in the crawler, and Levi drops off on it like someone removed his power source before the vehicle even begins moving.

  Kaylee however, refuses to lie down, and denies that she needs sleep. Instead, she asks to be carried.

  She too drops from consciousness, but she poses a special challenge: not because she’s too heavy to bear, but because lying down in my arms like she is, she looks dead, and that draws too much attention.

  When I shift her so that she’s half clinging to me, her neck looks broken, and that too draws attention—but it also unnerves me.

  “Here.”

  My gaze drops to the woman whose name I don’t even know, but very much wish to. She hasn’t offered it, so I boldly ask. “What are you called?”

  I lose her eyes, and I spend the silence internally cursing in all the alien tongues my translator is programmed for—along with a few words I’ve time to invent as I wait for her to give them to me again. We’re nearly to the ship and I want her name before we’re among the crush of other humans.

  Two dark warm-brown eyes finally lift.

  So do my hearts.

  “Jennifer,” she says. “Or Jen. What do they call you?”

  Shortened names are reserved for friends, acquaintances you are fond of, and mates. She gave me the shortened version of her name. “Hotahn.”

  She has no translator yet, and if there’s a way to Earthenize my name, I don’t know how. Jennifer must not either, because she struggles mightily over the double click.

  “Use your tongue, then your teeth,” I instruct her.

  “I’m trying, but I think I’m missing the fangs for this.”

  “Ridiculous,” I assure her, though I think she might be right.

  She laughs.

  And it is the most beautiful sound I think I’ve ever heard.

  “BAD AKITA, BAD!”

  For certain, I know Gracie’s disbelieving shout is not.

  CHAPTER 9

  JENNIFER

  I’m startled by the woman’s shout. So are the kids—they’re up and moving instantly.

  We take in the sight: human women. Human children.

  More aliens. Different aliens.

  Behind them all is a towering form. It almost, almost blends in with its surroundings—from far away, I couldn’t even see it.

  It’s a spaceship.

  A strange assortment of human goods is being loaded into the ship, and the woman with the raised voice seems to be taking charge of it all.

  Mere hours ago, I’d have been relieved to have her stop my abduction.

  Now I’m strangely torn. No, not even torn—only slightly reluctant at best.

  I realize that’s not normal. This alien intends to leave the planet with three human beings, two of them being minors who really can’t be expected to make decisions of this magnitude, and one being me, who should be panicking at the thought of leaving the only planet I’ve ever known but…

  What’s here to hold me? I don’t even have a plant at home. At the office, it’s not a private practice. I’m one of many, and the only reason they’ll miss me is because I’m always willing to open, and always willing to close, and always willing to swap shifts.

  Because I have nothing else to do.

  I’m not necessary here. Not to anything. Not to anyone.

  But… if I go… I smother a smile remembering Hotahn’s order. You will mother these children, do you understand me?

  I think of helping Kaylee wash her hands—such a simple thing, but it was strangely satisfying. I think of Levi who either by natural inclination or by necessity is taking on a lot. There was a moment when Hotahn was politely inhaling burgers when Levi had crawled next to Kaylee, who’d taken over my lap, coming close enough to where I sat cross legged in the grass that I could pet his hair.

  He’d gone very still—and then he’d crawled a little closer.

  Like a feral animal that has been taught to be wary of people, but one who would enjoy affection—if only he had a person he could trust.

  I could be that person.

  I could be there for them both.

  Plus, someone has to help Hotahn. He’s such a pushover where Kaylee’s concerned.

  “You can go home,” a woman assures me.

  But do I want to?

  I jump when Hotahn roars that I belong to Levi and Kaylee, who he’s adopted. He’s publicly claiming them.

  He’s publicly claiming me.

  His tail is snapping, he’s so worked up, but even this agitated, he’s careful to keep all his pointy, deadly parts away from the kids—and from me.

  It melts my heart a bit.

  Okay, a lot.

  So does the way he spreads his tail blades like a Chinese fan when the human woman presiding over this band of aliens and humans alike scowls down at Kaylee.

  He looks like he’s ready to attack a woman over a scowl.

  Well, that’s not that crazy—or if it is, I’ve been bitten by the same bug because our kid doesn’t deserve this woman’s glare.

  Our kid?

  It’s insane, my thoughts.

  To distract myself, I pull Kaylee aside. “Can I tell you something important?

  She nods up at me earnestly.

  “I realize you’re only six, but Hotahn needs your help.”

  She gasps adorably. “He does?”

  I let my face show only concern. “That’s right. He’s very powerful, but with great power comes great responsibility.”

  I pause. Is this a movie line? If it is, it’s a darn good line, so I continue. “Whoever, um, whoever Hotahn listens to also has great power.” I tap a finger over her heart. “That’s you. You have a whole lot of power.”

  Her eyes are as wide as saucers.

  “And so you have to be extra careful what you say and do, because he listens to you. Do you understand?”

  Earnestly, she nods. “Like a little brother.”

  “Well…” I consider this for a second. “I guess�
� yes, I suppose so.”

  “I’ve always wanted a little brother.” She smiles up at me. “Or a sister.”

  I smile ruefully. “I think we can safely say your alien is so much more than…” I give her the side-eye. “Can I say he’s cooler than a younger brother or sister? I have sisters, trust me.”

  She nods, easily accepting this as fact.

  Thinking this conversation is over, I ignore my loudly protesting knees (courtesy of lifting one too many labradors: it’s always labradors. Sweet, goofy, and mildly terrified of exam tables) and begin to straighten—

  A tiny hand pats over my heart.

  I look down at Kaylee, who is gazing up at me. I clasp her hand between both of mine. “What is it, honey?”

  Solemnly, she states, “You have to be extra careful too.”

  I’m so affected by her contact against me—I didn’t realize how starved for affectionate human touch I’ve been—that I’m not following what she’s trying to tell me. “What’s that?”

  Her lips curve into a bright smile. “You have to be extra careful, because you have a whole lot of power.”

  I’m struck speechless, but it isn’t just because Kaylee is telling me this. It’s because my eyes have been captured by Hotahn’s blues, and by the set of his ears—one stretched towards us, the other raised slightly—he’s able to hear our conversation.

  My gaze drops to his tail, which is wagging like it’s happy—at least until I look at it. Once my eyes are on it, it stops dead.

  I look to Hotahn to see what’s wrong—and find he’s watching me, and the moment our gazes connect… his tail wags again.

  I could go home right now. Go back to my apartment. Set my clothes out for work tomorrow. Sit in the quiet. Read a dry medical publication. Have tea: live dangerously, and go with decaf again. Just like I did yesterday. And the day before. And last month. And last years.

  Or...

  Gathering my courage, I raise my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to go with them.”

  CHAPTER 10

  JENNIFER

  Watching Levi fall from the tree today… I shudder.

  Watching Hotahn come unglued today? My chest hurts all over again.

  Watching his son in pain would be hard on any father, but for Hotahn…

  It’s wonderful that he has the instincts of the very best kind of dad—his are simply amplified by a few thousand degrees.

  “He’s afraid,” Hotahn had rasped.

  While Levi was trying to stay tough, Hotahn was coasting on a trip of guilt, worry, and some intense alien instinct that insisted Levi not be left alone—not for a moment.

  This was all well and good, if Hotahn could have wrangled his instincts and allowed the medical team to treat Levi.

  Hotahn could not wrangle these instincts. He could not at all. If he’d been my patient’s father, I’d have tranqued him myself.

  Being that I worked with animals, this would be only slightly more acceptable.

  Someone needs to develop a medication that safely knocks a Rakhii unconscious. At least until his loved one is in the clear after a medical procedure.

  He must have been a terror in the waiting area.

  I wouldn’t know, because I found myself getting propelled in with Levi by a very determined Hotahn. I was following Levi regardless, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel bad leaving behind a sobbing Kaylee and a Rakhii very clearly nearly out of his mind.

  Just like he’d so forcefully guided me into the room, I shooed Hotahn out, telling him Kaylee needed him right now.

  When a groggy Levi asked me to check on them, I’d no more than pressed open the door when Hotahn was lunging for me, desperate to hear any update.

  He’s lucky I’ve grown used to his brand of intensity.

  And tonight, when Levi got a little grumpy from the pain and discomfort as he tried to get in a position to sleep, Hotahn was so patient.

  I clutch at my chest all over again. He’s such a good man.

  Alien. I mean alien… oh. Who cares anymore? I’m not on Earth. Nobody here will so much as look at me sideways if I call Hotahn a man.

  Mostly because anyone looking at me sideways for anything would find themselves roasted or snapped in half, depending on Hotahn’s craving.

  Sometimes, he asks disturbing questions about human nutrition. Not what humans need to eat, but what humans contain.

  I think it’s a good thing we’re secluded for the time being. I’m a little concerned he might be curious to taste human and I’ve heard some of the women here are catty enough to each other that it can strain a hob’s patience.

  And hobs have endless patience.

  Hotahn? I snicker silently. His is only endless with Kaylee and Levi.

  Although… I’ve seen that Hotahn treats me very differently than he does Gracie.

  For instance, the time we played duck, duck, goose with the kids.

  I’d been too… too… nervous to tap him and have him chase me.

  It’s silly.

  Still, I couldn’t do it.

  That’s when he informed me he wanted to play too.

  I made him chase the kids.

  “Say goose to me,” he’d insisted.

  “I’m not saying goose to you!” I’d sputtered. I tried to put my feelings into words. “I can play with the kids but it’s different with you…”

  And he’d looked me right in the eye.

  Holding my gaze captive, he sat back down.

  And he watched me.

  The memory makes me squirm and my knees shift, my legs sliding one over the other and back again.

  I’m staring off into the dark, with my bedroom door open—so I startle when I notice the gleaming eyes.

  I’d know these Rakhii eyes anywhere, so it wouldn’t be too alarming considering we technically share the same living space—except that Hotahn’s bed does not face mine.

  He’s crouching on the floor in the dark, watching me on my bed in the dark.

  And he has perfect night vision.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper. “You’re being creepy. Get in here if you want to see me, don’t stalk me.”

  I expect the cat—Kaylee named her Alley—to ghost under the bed, but she stays right beside me, neither disturbed by Hothan’s presence or inclined to move.

  She’s full of kittens, so that could be part of it, but she likes Hotahn as much as she likes any of us. She’s not demonstrative with affection but the fact that she shares closeness is a big concession for a formerly feral kitty. Slowly, she’s been sharing it more and more.

  My jaw very nearly drops when she bumps Hotahn’s hand with her head.

  Tentatively—not because he’s hesitant, but because he’s attempting to use his big, heavy hands carefully and lightly—he places two fingertips on her apple-shaped head to stroke softly—and she presses into the pressure, and lets out a purr.

  Hotahn does too.

  His is… it’s not like a cat purr.

  He thinks it’s very reassuring, and now that we’ve all gotten used to it, it mostly is.

  Alley purrs louder. Apparently she’s adjusted to his too.

  Either that, or she’s taking motherhood to a galactic level by adopting Hotahn and teaching him how to purr properly.

  Then she stands—quite a sight in the daylight with her kitten-bloated tummy, and no less impressive viewed under the glow of Hotahn’s eyes—and shoves her head into the scoop of his palm, demanding he pet her the way she wants him to.

  “Happier since coming here,” Hotahn whispers. “It’s all in the eyes.”

  I look up, words of agreement on my lips—to see him watching me.

  “I’m glad you chose us.” The register of his husky voice makes my skin tighten and I have to cross my arms over my chest to hide my chest’s untimely reaction.

  He tips his head. “Why are you wearing different colored socks?” He eases onto his side, reclining on an elbow, and he’s so big, I know he’s got to be h
anging off the bed pretty uncomfortably. I scoot so that he can position himself more kitty-corner crossways.

  I glance at my feet, but of course I can’t see them. I know what he’s talking about though. “I think the dryer is eating socks.”

  I hear his ears slap his neck.

  “I’m serious.” It’s not even eerie now, watching his gleaming eyes above mine. It’s just Hotahn. And my, are his eyes ever pretty, especially set against the black of the room. “I lose a sock every load. I’ve checked and checked that machine—”

  Hotahn clears his throat, and I feel his tail brush against my calf. “Would you like them back? Does it upset you?”

  I reach out to pet Alley, but end up bumping Hotahn’s arm.

  My lower stomach tightens and I suck in a breath.

  Twin blue orbs form slits.

  “I’m not upset,” I manage.

  “Are you certain? I could—”

  “I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I think I’ll go to bed.” Realizing I’m already in my bed, I experience yet another—formerly rare—moment of being truly flustered.

  Hotahn’s eyes glance down, and the light cast from them reveals Alley’s curled up under his arm, just where she’d stayed tucked most of the journey here.

  I feel like I swallowed a plum, and my lower half experiences a melting sensation that is disturbingly pleasant.

  It only intensifies when Hotahn presses his warm nose into my hair.

  CHAPTER 11

  HOTAHN

  I’m relieved Jen doesn’t want me to return her socks. I hadn’t been certain if she’d approve, but now that I have her permission to continue, I wonder if she’d prefer if I collect them in proper pairs.

  I’m not sure how to ask. Although she seems to be taking my compulsion to collect her things with far, far more comfortable ease than I expected of a human who isn’t familiar with Rakhii ways, I couldn’t read what she’s feeling about it.

  But it’s not important tonight. She’s ready to rest.

  Creator she smells like my female.

  When you’re journeying and you’ve gone long without sustenance, and you stumble upon a cozy inn, where the most delicious dish is placed before you: your insides will growl for it, your shaking hands will reach out for it, and your mouth will water at the mere scent.