Page 20 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

“Do you want this?” His voice is low, dangerous.

“Yes.” The word is a whisper, but it’s enough.

His lips crash against mine, fierce and demanding. I kiss him back, clinging to him as his hands explore my body. His scales are smooth and cool under my fingers, a stark contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He pulls back, his eyes blazing. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I breathe, the words pouring out of me like a prayer. “Always.”

His growl is fierce, victorious. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider. I feel the blunt pressure of him at my entrance, and I whimper, my body trembling with anticipation.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough.

I open my eyes, meeting his crimson gaze. And then he’s inside me, filling me so completely I cry out, my back arching off the desk. He grinds into me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice like a vow. And I believe him.

CHAPTER10

SHOMUN

The briefing room hums with the low thrum of machinery embedded in the translucent walls of Veritas Base Alpha. Pyke stares, his crimson scales gleaming under the artificial light, arms crossed over his chest. His brow ridges raise slightly as he waits for my report. I’ve barely started when my compad buzzes in my pocket. The screen lights up with a text from Claire:"Miss you. When are you coming back?"

I clear my throat, sliding the compad back into my pocket. "Grolgath activity in New Orleans remains minimal. A few sightings, but no base located yet. They’re laying low, which makes me uneasy."

Pyke’s eyes narrow. "They’re laying low because they’re planning something. You remember what happened the last time they focused on New Orleans, don’t you?"

The memory hits me like a tidal wave—black water surging over the city, the screams of humans drowned out by the roar of the flood. My fists clench involuntarily. "I still have nightmares about it. We can’t let that happen again."

"Agreed." Pyke steeples his fingers, the sharp tips of his claws tapping together. "I’ll dispatch a couple of scout teams to keep watch. We can’t afford to be caught off guard."

My compad buzzes again. This time, it’s a photo. Claire’s honey-blonde hair frames her face as she lifts her skirt, revealing a pair of lace panties. My throat tightens, and I force my expression to remain neutral.

Pyke’s gaze sharpens. "Who in the Precursor’s name keeps texting you during a briefing?"

"Just my assistant," I say, my tone deliberately casual. "Humans are… easily distracted."

"Don’t let yourself get distracted, Shomun." Pyke’s voice hardens, his red eyes locking onto mine. "The Grolgath are clearly up to something in New Orleans. It’s your job to find out what it is."

I nod, slipping the compad back into my pocket. "Understood, Captain. I’ll stay focused."

Pyke holds my gaze a moment longer, then nods. "Good. Dismissed."

I stand, my mind already divided between the mission ahead and the image of Claire that’s burned into my thoughts. Focus, I remind myself. But even as I walk out of the briefing room, I can’t shake the tug of her.

The Ancestor’s Shrine at Veritas Base Alpha is a quiet corner of the base, tucked away from the chaos of command. The pedestal is worn smooth from centuries of supplicants’ hands, the surface stained dark with the blood of Vakutans who came before me. I kneel in front of it, the ceremonial knife cold in my hand. The air is thick with the faint scent of incense, a reminder that this is a place of reverence, not comfort.

I press the blade to my palm, the sharp edge biting into my scales. Crimson blood wells up, and I clench my fist, letting it drip onto the altar. The droplets sizzle faintly as they hit the stone, a whisper of connection to those who came before.

“Ancestors,” I begin, my voice low but steady. “I come to you not as a warrior, but as a man. I have faced grolgath fleets, infiltrated their strongholds, and never faltered. But this… this is something I cannot fight.”

The words feel foreign in my mouth, but the emotions behind them are raw and unrelenting. “Her name is Claire. She’s human, and she’s… different. She doesn’t see me as a weapon or a tool. She seesme. And I’m afraid. Afraid of what it means to let her in, afraid of what will happen if I don’t.”

I close my eyes, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “Every time I’ve let myself care for someone, the galaxy has taken them from me. My parents, my brothers-in-arms, even my closest friend on this base—gone. And now there’s Claire. She’s here, and I can’t stop thinking about her. But if I let myself love her, if I let her see all of me, what then? Will the galaxy take her too?”

The silence of the shrine offers no answers, but the weight of my confession hangs heavy in the air. I clench my fist tighter, watching as my blood pools on the altar. “I don’t know what to do. Do I push her away to protect her? Or do I let her in and risk losing her? I need guidance, ancestors. I need… something.”

I sit back on my heels, the knife still in my hand. The shrine remains silent, as it always does. The ancestors don’t speak, not directly. But I can feel their presence, a quiet, watchful force. I don’t expect a clear answer, but the act of asking helps clarify the questions in my mind.

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