Page 24 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

He swallows hard, his face flushing. “Of course, of course. No harm in asking, eh?”

I snort, gathering my documents and snapping the briefcase shut. “Asking and demanding are two very different things,” I say, turning toward the door. But as I reach for the handle, I pause, glancing back at him. “By the way—what’s with the bikers outside? Cold Slither, isn’t it?”

Hoag’s face lights up like I’ve handed him a lifeline. “Oh, them? Just extra security. You know how it is these days. Can’t be too careful.”

“Extra security,” I say, my tone dripping with skepticism. “For a government building? In Coldwater?”

He chuckles, but it’s a nervous sound. “They’re not causing any trouble. Just, uh, keeping an eye on things. Making sure everything runs smoothly.”

I narrow my eyes, my fingers tightening around the briefcase handle. “They better stay that way. If they step out of line?—”

“They won’t,” Hoag interrupts, his voice too loud, too eager. “They’re professionals, Gary. Nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “Because if they do, I’ll handle it. Personally.”

I don’t wait for his reply. I stride out of the office, my boots clicking sharply against the polished floor. The Cold Slither bikers watch me as I pass, their eyes cold and calculating. I meet their gaze, my jaw tight, , the air feels charged, like the calmbefore a storm. But then I’m out the door, stepping into the cold Montana air, and the tension snaps like a taut wire.

For now, they’re just bikers. For now.

The limo’s interior is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint static of the autopilot system. I lean back in the leather seat, my fingers brushing against something sharp on the cushion beside me. A shard of glass, no bigger than a fingernail, glints in the dim light. I pick it up, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. Sunrise on Vakuta. Or what’s left of it.

My chest tightens, a wave of anger and grief crashing over me. I was supposed to punish her. Reily. She destroyed the only thing I had left of my parents, my home, my past. And yet… Instead of breaking her, I let her in. I let her see me,trulysee me, in a way no one has in centuries. She slipped past my defenses like they were nothing, like I was nothing. And now, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she felt beneath me, the way she looked at me when my image inducer faltered, the way sheknewme.

I hate this. I hate the vulnerability, the helplessness. I hateherfor making me feel this way. My fist closes around the shard, the sharp edges digging into my palm. I should cut her out of my life, tell her to stay far away from me before she burrows any deeper.

The thought makes my stomach twist. No. I can’t let her go. I won’t. She’s mine, and I’ll remind her of that—remind her who’s in charge.

I grab my phone, my fingers moving quickly to her contact. My thumb hovers over the call button, but I hesitate. No. Text is safer. Less revealing.

Come. Now.

The response is almost instantaneous. Those three dots taunt me, mocking my impatience. Who is she talking to? Anotherman? My jaw tightens, jealousy flaring hot and sharp in my chest.

I’m sorry, MASTER but you’ll have to put in more work than that. Earth women can’t just have orgasms on command.

The emojis she adds—a laughing cat, an eggplant—irritate me further. I growl low in my throat, my thumb jabbing at the screen.

I mean come over. Immediately.

Can’t. There’s no one to watch my mother.

My teeth grind together. Of course. Always something standing in my way. But I’m not a man who takes no for an answer.

Then I will provide staff to stay with her.

Are you showing off,she replies,or was it reallythatgood?

I smirk despite myself. Both, little human. Both.

The staff will arrive shortly. Come over once they arrive and you have briefed them on your mother’s needs.

Okay.

The single word sends a jolt of satisfaction through me. But then she adds,My apologies. I’ll be there as soon as I am able—Master.

Good. She’s learning. But it’s not enough to quell the storm raging inside me. Anger, desire, loneliness—they collide in a chaotic mess, churning in my gut. I arrange the mom sitters through my assistant, my fingers moving quickly over the screen. It’s done.

I lean back in the seat, my hand resting on the growing bulge in my trousers. Soon. She’ll be here soon. I’ll have her, and I’ll remind her who she belongs to. My fingers tighten, the fabric straining. Soon.

---