Page 63 of Rizzed Up By My Alien Neighbor
He steps back. “I’ll… just be gone. For now.”
He turns and walks to the Ford without a glance back. It roars to life and lunges away, backfiring through sputters.
Nessa exhales, voice whisper-soft. “Thank you.”
I nod. I shift back into Richard—my stance relaxes. I watch the truck disappear down the street, dust trailing in its wake.
Sammy emerges from behind Nessa and leans forward. “That was epic.”
I swallow warmth. The shield drops.
She races ahead and scoops me into a fierce hug. I hesitate—then cradle her.
Nessa crosses her arms, eyes flicking between us and the street. I catch her gaze. I sense gratitude—but also the firewall she’s maintained. I won’t violate it.
The morning birds resume their chatter. Hurricane calm sweeps the lawn.
I release Sammy. She bounces away. Nessa approaches.
“Thanks,” she says again.
I nod, voice quiet. “Always.”
She meets my gold stare, hesitation lingering, but filled with trust I didn’t earn fully—not yet.
I stand down. Battle sensor deactivates.
I’m here to protect. But more than that—I’m here to stay.
I don’t retaliate. My claws remain retracted, muscles relaxed, breathing even. I hold back the warrior’s desire to fling him through the fence—or worse. Instead, I step into the front yard, meeting Buford’s retreating gaze with calm determination.
He halts mid-step by his sputtering Ford, the engine idling like an angry creature. Dirt smudges his camo shirt, and his eyes narrow. He’s sizing me up again—maybe expecting me to flinch. Instead, I offer him a polite nod, Earth-style. “Good morning,” I say, voice measured, clipped to avoid misunderstanding.
Buford squints. He smirks. “You that weird-ass accountant?”
I nod again. “I am an accountant of war. I mean, taxes. Earth taxes.” I pause. The tension twitches through the air like a taut wire—waiting to snap.
Nessa’s glare narrows across the lawn, her posture radiating “stop helping.” I lift my shoulders in a small shrug, maintaining composure. Buford cocks his head.
“You don’t look like no accountant. You look like a cartoon wrestler.”
My lips twitch into a slight smile and—just for a heartbeat—a single fang glints at the corner of my mouth. “Thank you.” My tone is light but firm. I allow his insult to float by unchallenged, redirecting his aggression.
The temperature of the moment changes. Buford shifts— his entitlement flickers for an instant, uncertainty pressing at the edges of his swagger. He’s used to being the alpha, the one who owns a girl simply by biology. Now he’s facing someone who isn't cowed by his presence. Someone who glows with a quiet, contained power.
I can feel the moral gravity pulling me to maintain civility—for Nessa’s sake, for Sammy’s sake, for the delicate truce we’re building. If I give in to violent retribution, I lose more than control—I compromise her trust.
He clears his throat. “Alright, accountant. Just keep your distance. Back off, or I’ll get the courts on my side.” His voice is a quiver wrapped in bravado.
“I respect the legal frameworks of this territory,” I respond, voice smooth, almost conversational. “But I also respect this home. It is not yours to enter without invitation.”
Nessa exhales sharply, her shoulders relax slightly. She steps forward, not protective but protective in a way that shifts the energy—a reminder that the frameworks of Earth include boundaries, not just laws.
Buford snarls like an animal losing his lead. He steps back to his truck, the engine sputters to life once more. He glances at Nessa, sees resolution in her eyes and strength in mine. The message is clear: we will not back down. The truck lurches forward and crawls down the street like a wounded beast making its last stand.
Nessa and I stand on the lawn—neighbors bound together in some fragile alliance. Sammy peers out the window, adrenaline flaring in her eyes, and waves. I raise my hand lightly. She smiles—grateful for a father figure who doesn’t just physically block threats, but embodies restraint and respect.
I turn to Nessa. Sunlight dances off my scales—even my hidden identity shivering behind the veil of skin. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she steps closer, their boundaries now intertwined.
