Page 42 of Havik: Warlord Brides
Water beaded on his broad chest, trickling down.
She looked down.
She blinked and quickly looked back up. “I’m so sorry. The door wasn’t locked and…” She glanced down again becausewhat was wrong with her?
“Leave! Can a male have no privacy?”
“I’m really sorry.” She scrambled to pick up her towel and hairbrush, backing up and dropping the damn brush again.
Thalia hustled back to her cabin. Safely behind a closed—and locked, thank you very much—door, she collapsed into a chair. She buried her face into the towel and screamed in frustration.
Why did she act like such a perv, and why didn’t she feel worse about it? She was gross, leering at the gorgeous muscular alien with an ass that wouldn’t quit. She wanted to get her hands on that tail andtug.
She was so gross.
Danger B was built, which was no surprise because he liked to wear pants so tight, they could be painted on. The surprise was what hung between his legs.
Or didn’t.
His dick wasn’t there. Sure, a bulge suggested something internal, and she really hoped that something was comparable to a penis. It had to be. The Mahdfel came to Earth to make babies, and everything she had read and seen in the media suggested those babies were made the old-fashioned way.
Okay, okay. Dick crisis over.
She just wished she knew more about alien biology and that she wasn’t such a creep.
Havik
“Who’s a pretty sand demon? You are. Yes, you are,” Thalia cooed, applying a clear coat to the painted design on the kumakre’s back.
“What have you done?”
Clutching the small bottle of paint, Thalia stared at him with wide eyes. Before she could say something clever and make his ill temper vanish, he swooped in and grabbed the kumakre.
“Be careful. You’ll smudge the nail polish,” she managed to say.
He touched the design, finding it tacky. He shook his finger to rid himself of the sensation. “What do you call this?”
“Mile High Blue Sky. We match. See.” She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers, drawing attention to the blue paint on her nails.
“Why?”
“It’s the only color I have. I think it looks nice,” she answered.
“No, why did you adorn the kumakre with this—” He waved a hand.
“Insignia. To denote his rank.”
“He is a wild predator. He has no rank and this folly is undignified,” he said.
“His name is Lieutenant Stabs, and he deserves your respect,” Thalia said in a breezy tone, as if unfazed by his displeasure.
“You named my kumakre?”
“You’re just upset because Lieutenant Stabs outranks you,” she said.
Havik sputtered. “I am the captain.”
Thalia leaned down. “What’s that?AdmiralStabs?” The kumakre’s mandibles played with the loose strands of her hair. “Congratulations on your sudden and unexpected promotion, Admiral.”
