Page 35 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

By the time I returned to the bedroom, Warden Tenn had made startling progress. The trunk of the shirt appeared nearly complete, and long strips were ready beside it, presumably to function as the sleeves.

“Wow,” I said, nodding in appreciation as I returned to my spot on the bed. “You’re fast.”

“I haven’t made clothes in cycles,” he grunted without looking up from his work. “But old skills come back quickly.”

“Just like riding a bike.”

“What?”

“It’s a human phrase. It means that things you were once good at are always sort of in there, ready to be dusted off when you need them.”

Warden Tenn made a thoughtful sound, then said, “I like that.”

My cheeks felt oddly hot at his proclamation. I cleared my throat and decided now was the time to thoroughly examine my nailbeds. Having just washed my hands, they didn’t look too bad, despite the dust.

“So,” Warden Tenn said. “What are you first thoughts?”

“About the pyjamas?”

He glanced up. His orange gaze was so warm.

“About the men. About the program’s chances of continuing.”

“Oh! Of course. Well, I must admit I’m quite happy with Fallon and Silar so far. It really does appear that they’re providing well for their wives. Cherry and Darcy seem happy, and Magnolia does, too, in the brief chat I’ve had with her.”

“I want you to know,” he said, his voice falling lower, serious and deep, “that I would not have agreed to proceed with this program if I thought any of my men were unsuitable. I believe it is the same for Warden Hallum, and the wardens of the other provinces.”

He finished with a seam, and snapped the thread off with his fangs, a surprising and bizarrely erotic action. I watched his mouth, with those flashing long teeth, as he continued speaking.

“I have been doing some research about human laws and criminal proceedings. You should know that none of my men meet the human standard for murder.”

“Cherry said something similar. But, if that’s the case, how were any of them convicted?”

Warden Tenn got to work attaching one sleeve to the body of the shirt. His stitches were even, neat, and incredibly quick, even with the slippery, satiny fabric.

“From my research, humans have legal arguments they can rely on in these sorts of cases, such as self-defence. The Zabrian Empire has no such thing. Causing the death of another, if you are not among one of the protected classes, cannot be defended by any means. If my men had been any older, they would have been sent to the mines for a lifetime of hard labour and imprisonment.”

“Protected classes?”

“The military caste, for example.”

“Does that include you?”

“It does.”

I tensed. He noticed, and used his sewing needle to gesture at his belt. “This is a stunner, meant for incapacitation. It is not a lethal weapon.”

Your whole body is a lethal weapon.

I almost said it as I absorbed the size and shape of him, his heavy, muscled body. The hands that could so easily crush a throat…

But that were currently occupied by making me delicate pyjamas instead.

“And before you get any ideas,” he said on a growl, but with mirth in his eyes, “the stunner is biometrically assigned to me. You can’t use it on me, or anyone else.”

“I wasn’t planning to!”

“That’s what you want me to think,” he smirked. “But a good warden must always be prepared for anything.”

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