Page 11 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

I wipe at my eyes, catching a glimpse of her retreating figure as she vanishes into the maze of steel and concrete. Her boots scrape against the gravel, and her hoodie billows behind her like a cape.

"You’re not getting away from me!" I shout, but she’s already gone.

I grit my teeth, claws flexing at my sides. I should’ve tied her up better. I should’ve seen that coming. But no, I let my guard down because she’s human, because she’s small, because she’sjusta street artist with a grudge.

Next time, I won’t make the same mistake.

The water from the spigot rushes over my face, sluicing away the neon paint that clings stubbornly to my scales. I exhale sharply, the cold water soothing the sting in my eyes. My claws scrape against my cheek as I wipe at the last remnants of the paint. My vision clears, but the image of her—lithe, nimble, and utterly fearless—lingers in my mind like a ghost.

“Incredible,” I mutter under my breath, shaking the water from my face. No human should move like that. She’s too fast, too agile. There’s something…otherabout her. Maybe she’s gotVakutan blood somewhere in her lineage. It would explain a lot. Or maybe she’s just one of those rare humans who push their limits beyond what’s reasonable. Either way, she’s not like anyone I’ve ever encountered.

A pang of guilt hits me as I think about Raven. I shouldn’t be this fascinated by another woman. Not when I’ve already felt the pull of attraction toward her. But Raven’s… different. She’s not some masked vigilante defacing my office and leaping off buildings like she’s auditioning for a cosmic circus. She’s real. Grounded. And yet, there’s something about this Blackbird that’s impossible to ignore.

I let out a low growl, frustrated with myself. It doesn’t matter. The woman in black is gone, and I’ll likely never see her again. She’s just another anomaly in a city full of them.

Then it hits me like a plasma blast to the chest.

“Damn it,” I hiss, my claws clenching into fists. She saw me. My true form. No hologram, no disguise. Just golden scales and sunset eyes. If she talks—if sheexposesme—Giscard will know exactly who Kirk Stevens really is. The entire mission could be compromised.

I storm back to my office, my mind racing. The security system beeps as I enter, and I ignore the defaced portrait on the wall, focusing on the task at hand. I pull up the Veritas database on my compad, my claws tapping rapidly on the holographic interface. It takes only moments to find the file I’m looking for.

Blackbird.

Alias:Unknown.

Activities:Graffiti artist, activist.

Threat Level:Low.

Assessment:Minimal disruption to timeline. No direct action required.

“Low threat, huh?” I mutter, my lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Well, you’re a threat now, aren’t you, my little bird.”

I open the bottom drawer of my desk, rifling through the assortment of Vakutan artifacts until my claws close around the familiar leather of the Vakutan Love Harness. The supple material feels cool against my palm, and I run my thumb over the intricate stitching. It’s a relic from a different time, a different life. But right now, it feels… fitting.

“Next time,” I say softly, my voice low and dangerous, “you’re not going to get away from me so easily, Blackbird.”

The thought of her—slippery, defiant, and utterly infuriating—bound in the harness sends a bolt of heat racing through me. My cock stirs, pressing against the confines of my scaled skin. I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s a threat, a liability. And yet…

And yet, the image of Raven in the harness flashes through my mind, and the heat intensifies. Her dark eyes wide, her lips parted, her body completely at my mercy. The thought is intoxicating, but it’s also dangerous. I can’t afford distractions, not now. Not when so much is at stake.

I close the drawer with a sharp click, forcing the thoughts from my mind. Focus, Karc. Find Blackbird. Stop her before she exposes you. Everything else is secondary.

But as I sit back in my chair, the harness still in my hand, I can’t shake the feeling that this little game is far from over.

CHAPTER 5

RAVEN

Iburst through the apartment door, my lungs burning, sweat dripping down my spine. My hoodie clings to me like a second skin, and I’m pretty sure I left my dignity ten stories up on a scaffolding. Madison’s perched on the couch, controller in hand, but she freezes mid-button mash when she sees me.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asks, her eyes wide. “You look like you just lost a fight with a gym and a dumpster.”

I slump against the door frame, gasping for air. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” She drops the controller and gets up, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge. She hands it to me with a raised eyebrow. “Start talking.”

I twist the cap off and down half the bottle in one go. The cold water hits my throat like a lifeline. “Okay, so. Remember how I went to Kirk Stevens’ office?”

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