Page 54 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

I’d basically sexually harassed the man in my sleep. And to top it all off, before I’d woken fully and realized what was happening, I’dlikedit. In that dreamy state of near-wakefulness, I’d relished the warmth of his body against mine. I’d felt safe and cozy and happy.

And horny. Terribly, terribly horny.

I was a horrible person. It was a good thing I didn’t believe in hell. If I did, I’d be depressingly certain I was headed there.

But no, now I was just depressed in a much more general sense.

Lucky me.

On the slicer, we made what I assumed had to be good headway, considering our impressive speed. The dry, dusty landscape grew more and more dotted with trees, until we were traveling alongside thick forest. I tried to focus on the changing land, the alien beauty of it all, but it became harder and harder to ignore the press of Warden Tenn’s belt hook against my belly. I began shifting on the seat, as well as I could at these speeds, anyway.

Not only did it not help, but Warden Tenn noticed.

Abruptly, the slicer slowed, then lowered to the ground. He twisted around to give me a hard look from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Do you need to urinate?”

“What?” I cried, rearing back at the intimacy of the question. “No!”

“Then why the blazes do you keep wiggling so much? You’re throwing the slicer’s balance off.”

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“What is it?” He dismounted and stood beside the slicer so that he could stare me down without cranking his neck. “Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s…” The words clogged up my throat. I’d never been good at this. Never been good at expressing my pain, or asking for things. It never got me anywhere in foster care, or in the factory, or with Gerald. And here? Now? In front of this unfairly hot alien warden, I was supposed to tell him that his belt was poking my stomach roll too hard?

Fucking mortifying.

But…

This wasn’t foster care. This wasn’t the factory. And this sure as hell wasn’t Gerald.

This was Warden Tenn. With those warm orange eyes, so intense on me, rimmed not with impatience, but with concern.

“It’s your belt hook,” I cried before I could chicken out. “It’s…” I gestured at my stomach. “It’s poking me. Really hard.”

He went very, very still. His eyes blazed bright white.

“Are you injured?” He sounded like someone had their fist wrapped ’round his throat.

“No, nothing like that! I don’t think it’ll even leave a bruise.”

He flinched at that word.Bruise. Like I’d jumped off the slicer and slapped him right across the face.

Then, his hands were flying. His fingers wrenched apart the buckle, and he yanked his belt from his hips like he was trying to punish it.

Oh, lordy. He was mad. His hard jaw worked. His eyes were still that mystifying white that seemed to accompany bouts of surprise or negative emotion.

Was he angry with me?

“What… What is it?” I asked as he slammed open the storage compartment on the slicer and threw the belt in like he never wanted to see it again. When he closed the compartment, he took a moment to stare blankly down at the lid.

Then, his white eyes seared a laser-like line up to mine.

“Next time something’s hurting you,” he said on a guttural growl, “you don’t go wiggling around, ignoring it, or trying to solve it yourself. You tell me. You tell meright away.” He released the closed lid and came around the side of the slicer. His calloused fingers found my chin. My entire body spasmed at the firm yet tender touch.

“I don’t care what’s causing it. I don’t care if it’s me. You tell me.” A raw, raging emotion tore through that white gaze. “Especiallyif it’s me. You tell me, Tasha.”

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