Page 6 of Adored By the Alien Warlord
He leaned over and lowered me onto the bed. I’d expected him to be sticky, as sweaty as me. He’d worked the bar all night and from what I could tell, his job was quite physical. He hadn’t seemed to take a break, let alone step out for a shower. Not that I’d seen a shower in this place since I arrived. He should stink like me, but he didn’t. His spicy scent reminded me of cloves. Totally disconcerting. I squirmed away from him, not enjoying having him this close for many reasons, the primary one being that I liked the feel of his hands on my body.
If he discovered that fact, he’d take advantage of me.
“Thank you.” My voice came out shriller than I liked. “You can go now . . .” I didn’t know his name.
I didn’t want to know his name.
“Davon. My name’s Davon.”
“Thank you, then, Davon,” I said grandly, sitting up on my bunk and swinging my legs around to stand.
He lifted his finger. “Wait.”
I blinked up at him, grateful not to see lust or meanness on his face. “For what?”
“Would you remain there for a moment?”
If he hadn’t given me a crooked smile that made his face crack as if he didn’t deploy smiles very often, I would’ve ignored his request. There was no harm yet in seeing what he was talking about.
He ripped his shirt up over his head.
“Fuck,” I snarled, leaping to my feet and backing into the stone slab wall on my right. Where was a weapon when I needed one? “We’re not humping.”
“Humping?” A frown filled his too-handsome face. He was an alien. Utterly foreign. And strangely attractive in a way I couldn’t define.
We were all people inside, right? I got that. I didn’t judge him for his alienness. He must have his own hopes and dreams, the same as me. Things he feared, like I did what might happen to me next.
“We’re not doing the sideways tango,” I said.
He shook his head, his silver hair brushing across the tops of his shoulders. When he first arrived at the bar, it had been secured at his nape, but it must’ve come undone during his first tussle. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re not making me have sex with you.”
His face cleared, and one corner of his mouth crooked upward again. He should stop doing that. It messed withmy equilibrium. “I don’t . . .” His face darkened to a richer blue. “I would never steal something like that from you. From anyone.” He pressed his big fist against his chest. “You’re safe with me.”
Sure, that’s what they all said. I hadn’t yet found anyone in this wretched place who made me feel secure.
“Never,” I said. “Practice that word. Never.” I wasn’t sure where my spunk came from. I should be dropping onto the bed. Curling into a ball and sleeping except for when the upstairs cleaners brought me my meals.
“You . . . You’re safe with me,” was all he said. He started ripping his shirt.
I stared at the play of muscles across his chest and shoulders. Did he work out? I realized that was a foolish thought. Survival seemed to be the game here, not leisure time filled with going for a run or to the gym, assuming anyone here ran a gym, something I doubted.
He truly was gorgeous, from his silver hair swaying around his shoulders to his rich, blue skin. A few old scars dissected his perfection here and there, but they didn’t detract from his appearance. It was too easy to picture myself running my hands across his chest, stroking his shoulders and arms. Gliding my fingertip along his scars and asking him to explain how he got them.
Stop gaping at the god-like alien,I chided myself.He’s not performing for your view. He’s busy doing . . .I wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing.
I watched the odd ritual as he tore the shirt into palm-sized squares, stacking them neatly on the foot ofmy bed. After he’d created a sizable pile, he took some to the sink and wet them, wringing them out before returning to stand beside the bed.
“Lay down,” he said.
A pang of disappointment shot through me. I’d begun to think he was different. “Never, Davon.Never.”
“I’m going to wash your feet.”
Totally not what I expected. I sputtered a moment. “Why?”
“Because they’re dirty.”