Page 8 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

Tasha cocked her head. Her plush lips thinned, as if bitten from the inside, and I found it difficult to tear my gaze from her mouth.

Finally, she raised her hand again and placed it against mine.

Or, inside mine, really. My fingers swallowed hers. Her hand felt so incredibly delicate, nestled in my palm. Her skin so soft it made some previously unknown place inside me ache.

It also made a previouslyknownplace ache.

Namely, my cock.

I screwed my jaw shut and squeezed the hook on my belt with my tail until I felt the metal’s bite.

My fingers grew taut with tension. I was afraid if I held on too tightly, I could crush her.

But perhaps those fears were at least somewhat misplaced. Because a moment later, Tasha adjusted the angle of her hand slightly and squeezed me with a surprisingly strong grip.

I felt the tight clasp of her grip both in my hand and echoing… other places.

Like my cock. Again.

I gave Tasha’s hand a swift up-and-down pump and then unceremoniously dropped it. My hide, where she’d touched me, felt strangely hot.

Tasha’s skin must have felt dirty, I supposed, given the fact she immediately rubbed the palm of her hand vigorously on her pant leg after I let her go. My tail unspooled from its hook and lashed the ground in irritation. I could basically guarantee that I had as good, if not better, hygiene than any other male on this planet. Except for, perhaps, Warden Hallum.

My closest neighbouring warden was fearsomely regimented in everything he did, whether that be keeping his men in line or keeping his claws clean. He would not have needed to furtively polish his badge moments before Tasha’s arrival. It likely already would have been done before the sun rose. Disciplined and demanding, Warden Hallum was the perfect example of a man who’d spent cycles in the Zabrian Imperial Guard.

The very same Imperial Guard I’d once hoped to spend my life serving.

Before I ruined everything and got posted here instead.

Here, Zabria Prinar One, where I was now watching – with no amount of seething – Tasha wipe her hand on her clothing after touching me.

And with that, I knew that Cherry had been wrong when she’d tried to comfort me before.

I was just as much on trial as my men were.

If not more so.

3

TASHA

Ihoped Warden Tenn hadn’t noticed how freaking sweaty my palm was when we shook hands. Between the blazing alien sun overhead and the rough, calloused heat of his hand on mine, my sweat glands were going into overdrive.

The nerves certainly didn’t help.

Luckily, I was pissed enough to keep my anxiety mostly at bay.

I was pissed that the brides had been brought here under false pretences. I was pissed that I couldn’t protect them.

And right now, I was pissed that the warden had the audacity to be so astonishingly good-looking while he stood there, all dusty and swoony and rugged in his hat and uniform, without even a hint of guilt in his hard-jawed expression.

Liars had absolutely no right to be that gorgeous.

My last boyfriend had been a liar, too. But at least he hadn’t been seven-foot-something of rippling alien muscle, topped off with the kind of brutal perfection in his face that would probably make little baby angels sing.

Baby angels? Good God, woman. Get a grip.

I had absolutely no business comparing this big, orange-eyed slab of alien male to anything remotely cherubic.

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