Page 4 of Alien Attachment
Which should be terrifying. Instead, it’s the most arousing thing I’ve ever experienced.
“This is insane,” I whisper, but I’m not pulling away anymore.
“Yes,” he agrees, his voice dropping to a purr that makes me shiver. “Gloriously so.”
Before I can figure out how to respond to that, Lila’s voice cuts through the moment like a plasma cutter: “Warning: Hostile vessel approaching. Weapons lock detected.”
All the heat and confusion in my body transforms instantly into cold dread. “ApexCorp?”
“Vessel signature matches ApexCorp security division. They are hailing us.”
“How the hell did they know I opened the crate so fast?”
“Unknown. However, ApexCorp containers are equipped with advanced monitoring systems. It is likely they received an automated breach notification the moment the seal was broken.”
Shit. Shit shit shit. I look at the alien, who has gone very still, his tentacles pulling back to wrap protectively around his body—except for the one still firmly attached to my wrist. The warmth I felt from him moments ago is replaced by ice-cold fear.
“They come for me,” he says, his voice flat but his eyes wide with terror that resonates through our connection. “Will take me back. Will hurt you to break bond.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, though part of me already knows the answer. His fear is too specific, too detailed to be hypothetical.
He touches his temple with his free hand, and I catch a glimpse of memory through our connection—sterile laboratories, pain, cold voices discussing him like he’s equipment. “Know things. About them. About what they do to... assets... who bond without permission.”
The word “assets” tastes wrong in my mouth, clinical and dehumanizing. Looking at him—this magnificent, terrifying, strangely compelling being—I can’t imagine anyone thinking of him as just a thing to be owned.
“Incoming transmission,” Lila announces. “Accept?”
I look at him again, at his alien beauty and the tentacle wrapped around my wrist like a living promise, and make a decision that will probably get me killed but feels more right than anything I’ve done in years.
“No. Prep for emergency jump. Get us out of here, now.”
“Warning: Jump drive not fully charged. Success probability sixty-three percent. Failure could result in catastrophic—”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
“Acknowledged. Emergency jump in ten seconds.”
The alien’s eyes widen. “Jump... dangerous. Ship not prepared.”
“Yeah, well, ApexCorp shooting us is also dangerous,” I mutter, bracing myself against the wall. His concern for me through the bond is almost overwhelming, protective and fierce. “Hold on to something.”
He looks around, confused, then simply wraps more tentacles around my arm and waist, anchoring us both to the floor. The touch sends another wave of that electric warmth through me, along with a flash of something that feels distinctly like possessive satisfaction.
“Emergency jump in three... two... one...”
The ship lurches violently as the jump drive engages, the familiar sensation of being turned inside out and stretched across space washing over me. But this time, there’s something else—a strange doubling, like I’m feeling not just my own disorientation but his as well. His tentacles tighten around me, holding me secure as the universe reshapes itself around us.
When reality snaps back into focus, we’re both on the floor, his tentacles still wrapped around me, our faces inches apart. His black eyes are wide, pupils now visible as lighter circles in the darkness, and I can feel his breath against my lips.
“Safe?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
“For now,” I reply, trying to ignore how his proximity makes my heart race—and not just from fear this time. This close, I can see the intricate patterns in his skin, the way they seem to pulse with faint bioluminescence. “But they’ll track us. We need to move again, soon.”
He nods slowly, reluctantly unwinding his tentacles from around me but keeping the one on my wrist. “Will help,” he says, his voice gaining strength. “Know things about them. Their ships. Their hunting patterns.”
“Great.” I push myself to my feet, acutely aware of how his gaze follows the movement, lingering on the curves of my body. “First, maybe you could put on some clothes? It’s... distracting.”
He looks down at himself, then back at me, head tilted in that alien way. When he meets my eyes again, there’s something that might be amusement in his expression. “Distracting in pleasant way?”
