Page 16 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

She nods, settling back against me, her breathing evening out as she drifts off to sleep. I hold her close, the weight of the world feeling just a little lighter with her in my arms.

The alarm blares, jolting me awake. I reach over and silence it with a tap, then turn to see Willow groaning into her pillow. I chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling. “Time for the daily grind.”

She mumbles something incoherent, her red hair a tangled mess against the sheets. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, standing to my full height and stretching. Scales ripple across my torso as I move, and I glance back at her. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

Willow sighs dramatically, then pushes herself up, her green eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. “You’re far too chipper in the mornings. It’s unnatural.”

“It’s called discipline,” I reply, heading to the closet to pull out my suit. Tailored, sharp, and entirely human. The image inducer does the rest. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to my eight hours of beauty sleep, thanks,” she says, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear and pantyhose, and I take a moment to appreciate the view before she disappears into the walk-in closet.

I finish buttoning my shirt and fasten my cufflinks, my eyes flicking to the closet door. “Are you certain you don’t want me to hire you an assistant? Someone to manage your wardrobe, perhaps?”

Her head pops out, her expression incredulous. “Oh god no, I can pick out my own clothes.”

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Apparently not.”

She steps out, hands on her hips, still clad in her undergarments. “We have a meeting at Alpha Base today, in case you’ve forgotten. I’d like to wear something that’s not too tight, too short, or shows too much cleavage. And you’ve made that impossible with the clothes you bought me.”

I raise a brow ridge, smirking. “Impossible? Willow, your new wardrobe is professional. It would pass muster in any office building in the West.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on. You were the one saying, ‘cut that side slit on the skirt a little bit higher’ and ‘I don’t care if the corset makes the skirt an inch too short, the look is perfect.’ Admit it, Ray. You’ve turned me into your personal dress-up doll.”

I laugh, the sound echoing through the room. “Guilty. But can you blame me? You’re a vision in everything you wear.”

She gives me a look, one that says she’s not buying it, but there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you tolerate me,” I reply, stepping closer. My fingers brush her arm, and she shivers despite herself. “Now, pick something before I do it for you.”

She sighs dramatically again but turns back to the closet, muttering under her breath about “bossy aliens.” I watch her for a moment longer, my chest swelling with pride. She’s come so far since the day I found her cowering in that elevator. My little flower. My jalshagar.

“Hurry up,” I tease, heading toward the door. “We’ve got a timeline to protect.”

I guide Willow through the bustling corridors of Veritas Base Alpha, her hand gripped tightly in mine. The air is filled with the hum of activity and the occasional whir of a passing hover-drone. Her eyes dart around, taking in the high-tech marvels that surround us, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead, my mind racing.

As we approach Pyke's office, the door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing the circular desk and the holographic globe of Earth floating above it. But it's not the familiar sight of Pyke's eccentric paintings that makes my heart pound like a war drum. It's the group of Vakutan scientists, their scales glinting under the harsh office lights, and the equipment they hold—equipment I recognize all too well.

I lean down, my lips brushing Willow's ear as I whisper, "They're going to give you a test. And no matter what, you must not pass."

CHAPTER 9

WILLOW

Pyke’s office is as intimidating as the first time I stepped into it six months ago, though now the holographic globe above his desk feels more like a looming reminder of the stakes than a curiosity. The scale of everything—the size of the desk, the height of the ceiling, the sheer presence of the Vakutans towering around me—makes me feel like I’ve been shrunk down to the size of a doll. And then there’s Raekon, standing beside me, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle twitching. He’s tense, which only makes me more nervous. When Pyke steps around his desk and gestures for Raekon to follow him into the hall, I feel a jolt of panic.

“Wait—” I start, but Raekon’s hand brushes mine, silencing me with a single touch.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “Whatever they ask you to do,don’tsucceed.” Then he’s gone, leaving me with a room full of Vakutan scientists and a growing sense of dread.

I’m not alone for long. A tall, lanky Vakutan with a red glowing cybernetic eye steps forward, his movements slightly jerky, like an overgrown marionette. He’s wearing a tweed jacket that wouldn’t look out of place on a Victorian professor, andthe combination of his eccentric appearance and the way he’s grinning at me makes me want to backpedal. Instead, I stand my ground, folding my arms across my chest and trying to look less like a scared rabbit and more like someone who belongs here.

“Ah, Ms. Christian,” he says, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I’m Doctor Professor Winn. Delighted to make your acquaintance! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” I say, though it comes out more sarcastic than I intend.

Winn chuckles, a sound that’s equal parts amusement and manic energy. “Oh, indeed! But let’s not waste time with pleasantries. We have so much to discover about you.”

“Discover? Like what?”

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