In that low super sexy voice of his, he says, “Serena, look at me.”
Why can’t I disobey him? I look up. He knows I’m wary. Why shouldn’t I be? He’s fucking ET on steroids! I pinch my arm to make sure I’m not dreaming. Does he truly look like this or is he using one of his super duper techie devices that make him look overly attractive to me? He rests his hands, his very large hands, on my shoulders.
Please don’t crush me.
“Serena, you’re awake, not dreaming, and I look like this all the time. I’m not using anything to alter my appearance. This is the real me. And I promise I won’t crush you. Or hurt you. My men, along with myself, are protectors. We only hurt and destroy when the times call for it, such as what you saw on the screen a little bit ago. The Shaurok, the beings who tried to kill you, are also after Judgment Day. They will stop at nothing to get it. You saw their eyes. They are conscienceless beings. They have one thing on their minds, and that is following orders. They will do it to the death. I swear to you that no harm will come to you while you are under our guard.”
What he says is supposed to offer me comfort, but it doesn’t. The fact remains that I’m not sure if I can trust the man.
“I will have to earn your trust then, won’t I?”
“You’re a mind reader. Can you just quit with that? It’s rude and it makes me even more uncomfortable than I already am.” It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the alien thing, but the fact he knows everything going on in my head is beyond awful.
“My apologies. I’ll stay out of your head. Sometimes your thoughts are quite loud so they’re difficult to ignore.”
“Do you have a space ship?”
He laughs at me. “No. We haven’t had them in years. I’m not exactly sure for how many. Hundreds most likely.”
“Oh. That’s disappointing. Do you use a transporter like on Star Trek? Beam me up, Scotty, and all.”
He laughs again. “I’ve seen that Star Trek show. And no, we use what we call a Transcender. It’s similar I suppose, but it’s much more convenient than a ship.”
“So, not human.”
His lids drop shut, closing me out, but only for a few seconds. Then he opens his eyes and says, “We are much the same, you and I. There are a few differences.”
“You won’t tell me, will you?” I ask.
“Is it important? And what purpose will it serve?”
The reason I want to know is to satisfy my curiosity. Nothing more. And it will serve no purpose at all.
“May I?” I ask.
He doesn’t know what I want, so he nods. I take his hand in mine, feeling the bones in it, then I move to his wrist.
“You will find you and I are anatomically the same, as I said before.”
“Everywhere?”
He grins. “Everywhere. Minor differences here and there.”
“But yet, you came back here with such serious injuries and survived. It baffles me.”
“I am strong.”
“Your skin doesn’t feel different, more dense, perhaps?”
“Would it matter?” he asks.
“It may explain some things.”
“Yes. It is denser. The molecules are more tightly woven, for lack of a better explanation.”
“You breathe oxygen?”
“Yes.”
“Then what was that wire I attached to you?”
“My lungs were both punctured. They collapsed and I couldn’t breathe. It healed them.”
It sounds reasonable.
“It’s the truth, Serena.”
“The damned mind reading.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So, how do you feel?”
“Good as new.” To prove it, he stands and stretches. The remnants of his shirt are on the floor, and his muscles flex and move beneath his skin that is wrapped tightly around them. Before I know what I’m doing, I touch the places he was wounded. They are wide, pink lines in his flesh, left behind as a reminder. I imagine they will fade into thin scars eventually. Then I notice how perfect he is. What is it with these men?
“They don’t hurt?”
“Not a bit.”
It comes to me then, how he risked his life for my friend. And that’s what they did for me, while I was diving. Is this what they always do? Is this what he meant by protectors? My fingers seek out all his scars, and there are dozens. As I examine the skin on his torso, I wonder how many times he has risked death. I lift my eyes to find him staring at me. Now it’s my turn to find it difficult to breathe. But there’s more. I want to feel his lips on mine. I want to know his taste.
My hand reaches out to touch the scar on his face, the one that runs from his eye to his mouth, but before I get the chance, he murmurs, “Bloody hell,” and his lips find mine as his arms pull me roughly against his body. If I thought I felt a zing when his hands touched mine, it was nothing compared to this. A current races along my spine and heat settles into my core, fanning out across my body. One of my arms coils around his neck as I stretch against him while the other hand presses into the muscles of his back. His tongue is like satin as it plays with mine, dancing, and teasing me. He tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before. Spicy and exotic. And then his scent wafts over me, looping around my brain, and I know I want more of him. My body throbs with need like it never has. I find myself spreading my legs and grinding myself against him, trying to get closer.
All of a sudden he pushes me away. “Christ, woman. What are you doing to me?”
Did I just hear him correctly? What am
I
doing to
him
? I’m breathing so hard my brain has difficulty processing. I touch my lips because they’re scorched from his kisses and my heart thrums with such force I can hear it pounding in my ears. I rub my face, trying to make sense out of this. It has become painfully awkward. But oddly enough, I can’t stop staring at him. He’s so irresistible. And I want more of his kisses. He tilts his head and scrapes his lower lip with his teeth. His right front tooth has the slightest chip in it; I suppose it happened when he was fighting. It makes him look sexier than he already is. I want to lick it, along with his lip. And that scar. Hell, I want to lick every inch of him. And he smells so damn good.
He suddenly says, “Aw, fuck it.” Then he grabs my wrist and I fly back into the rigid wall of his chest. “I should be doing anything but this, except I can’t seem to help myself.”
“I don’t want you to help yourself.”
“You say that now, but you may regret it later.”
“I doubt that.”
“You said yourself I was an ass.”
“You are, but that doesn’t negate the fact I want to kiss you. And lick you. Everywhere.”
“You want to lick me?”
My eyes narrow. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that. I’m sure you’ve been listening to my thoughts.”
The corner of his mouth curls. “Yeah. I have, even though I shouldn’t. My teeth. I thought that strange.”
“That’s not the only thing I want to lick.” Damn, did I have to blurt
that
out?
He looks at me under half-closed lids. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Kiss me first.”
He bends his head until his lips brush over mine. “Bossy, aren’t you?”
“Only when I’m not getting what I want. Now kiss me.”
And he does. But this time, it’s more sensuous. More tantalizing. He takes his time, pulling my lower lip into his mouth as he nibbles, licks, and sucks. When he releases me, it’s a shock to find I’m wet for him.
“Do you always kiss like that?”
The corner of his mouth curls. “Why?”
“Because I like it,” I tell him.
“So do I. I think, Ms. Callahan, that you’re going to be trouble.”
“I want you, Sabin.” His eyes widen. The statement surprises him, but it surprises me more.
“I’m flattered, but that’s not possible. I have to go back to work.” He nuzzles my face and then sets me free. “This is a very bad idea,” he says.
“Agreed, but the attraction can’t be denied.”
“No, it can’t. But I must go. There’s still work to be done and the others need me.”
I nod. He touches my cheek with the back of his finger and then tells me to join him in the sec center if I choose. I watch him leave, thinking how far-fetched and pure crazy this whole thing is. Did I just kiss an alien? My fingers trace the outline of my lips and I imagine I can still feel him kissing me.
Get a grip, Serena.
I pack all the little devices away and put the medical kit where I found it. Then I go to the sec center to find Sabin.
He’s in the middle of a conversation with Rafe, who is inside Tara’s apartment.
“And you’ve turned it upside down?” Sabin asks.
“Yes. Tara claims it’s with another friend and that she never wore it.”
“Do you know who?” Sabin asks.
“A girl named Charity. Charity McKessen.”
“Oh, no. Not Charity!” I cry. Sabin’s head swivels to me.
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Charity has been known to sell things on eBay.”
“eBay? What the devil is eBay?”
“It’s an online shopping site where you can either buy or bid for items,” I explain.
“Great. Excellent. You humans and your shopping addictions.” Sabin is not happy.
“What? Don’t aliens like to shop? I mean non-humanoids.”
Sabin huffs, “Non-
hominid
.” The emphasis is unmistakable.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Edge looks at me and I can tell he’s holding back a laugh. The corners of his mouth are turned up and then he winks at me.
“Serena, where does Charity live? Fast!” It’s Rafe talking now. I give him her address, which is not far from Tara’s. Sabin instructs Rafe and Verus to go and tells the others to scrub Tara.
“Scrub her?” I ask. “Is she dirty?”
Sabin ignores me. I observe the men as they move around Tara’s apartment, and not much later, they leave.
“What did they do to her?” I need to know.
“They erased her memory of them,” Sabin tells me.
How did they do that? Then another thought strikes me. “Is that what you’ll do to me when all of this is over?”
He doesn’t answer but instead asks, “Serena, do you know how long Tara had the necklace?”
“Not long. Why?”
“Do you know if she wore it?”
“I don’t think so. I think she only kept it to piss me off. Why?”
“She told Rafe she never wore it, but we need to make sure. The necklace will leave a trace of it behind. If she wore it, the Shaurok may still come back for her.”
It leaves a trace behind. “So what you’re saying is even though I don’t have it anymore, they can still detect it on me? And will come back for me?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It has left its imprint on you so therefore you will be in danger for a long time to come.”
“Nice. Just what I wanted to hear.” I turn around and stomp out of the room. I don’t know why, because I have nowhere to go, other than Sabin’s bedroom or the kitchen. I choose the bedroom. At least I can stretch out on the bed.
Where does this leave me? Those creepy fuckers will be chasing me forever. Or at least for the foreseeable future. My plans to continue with my studies are now crushed. What the hell did I do to deserve this? All I did was grab that rotten necklace from the bottom of the sea. Why didn’t I just leave it down there? Why does my stupid mother have to be right? Out of everything, I think that’s what galls me the most. I can just hear her voice now.
“I told you so, Serena. You should have listened to me. Nothing good comes from being under all that nasty water.”
Ugh!
Picking up the pillow, I punch the crap out of it. But it’s not enough. I want to put my fist through a wall. Kneeling on the bed, I curl my hands into fists and begin to pummel the mattress. It’s the only thing I can think of that won’t physically damage me. Even so, I can feel my knuckles take a slight beating. I’m grunting and yelling so loud with each hit that I don’t hear the door open and close. Sweat beads on my forehead and upper lip and when I hear, “Is that making you feel any better?” I stop and turn around to see him smirking at me. Then I really get pissed.