Guardian Alien: a sci-fi alien romance (OtherWorldly Men Book 1)

by Susan Grant

  “Try.” Tight-lipped, she exited the highway, the patrol car in pursuit. “I’m running out of English cusswords.”

  He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Yenflarg is, as best I can describe it, the foul interior walls of a large, muck-eating creature’s ass.”

  Jana made a strangled sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter, but almost immediately, worry turned her pink little mouth into a pout. He immediately thought of kissing that mouth, suckling on those plump lips, and…His body tightened. He made fists and willed the distracting heat to pass. It wasn’t the time or place for such carnal thoughts.

  Jana stopped the car at the bottom of the entry ramp. “Shut off the motor.”

  He did. The police car pulled up behind the Chevy and stopped, lights flashing. “Yenflarg,” she said with feeling, then: “It’s not working, Cavin. This is such a nightmare. Two more exits and we’d have been back to the Safeway. So close and yet so far.”

  “This will not be a problem.”

  “How can it not be a problem? Okay, I’m working on excuses and coming up empty here. ‘Sorry officer, it was only one gun battle and three carjackings.’” She frowned at Cavin. “Do you think that’ll make him more or less likely to overlook the reckless driving?”

  Cavin frowned. Charm and persuasion had long been talents of his, and it had always been so with the female sex. But how was he going to get Jana to trust him when at every turn he led her into trouble? Or worse, danger.

  She sat rigid in the driver’s seat, squeezing the steering wheel. He brushed a finger over her bloodless knuckles. “It will be okay, Jana. Wait and see.”

  “He’s going to know this is a stolen vehicle.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  You will see. Cavin simply smiled. She’d learn to trust him, yes, she would, one small technology-enhanced act at a time.

  The uniformed warden sauntered over to the car. Jana rolled down the window. “Yes, Officer?”

  “Good evening, ma’am. License and registration.”

  He dipped his head and peered inside the car. “Costume party,” Jana said, poking a thumb at Cavin, who nodded politely at the officer.

  Before she could hand over her identification, Cavin subtly brushed his wrist over the cards. The warden took them and returned to his car.

  “What did you do?” she whispered.

  “I altered the data. Your identity will now come up as the legal owner of this vehicle.”

  She smiled. “I like you more and more by the minute.”

  “Love me, you mean.” He’d meant it to come out smug, but instead it sounded tender. Quietly, he added, “For your information, I never stopped loving you, either.”

  She smoothed her bangs away from her forehead and pondered him with an expression of intensity and surprise that took him all the way back to the night he’d kissed her for the first—and what he’d assumed would be the only—time. It had been a very different kind of kiss from the one they’d just shared. It had been his first kiss, innocent and sweet. The expression on her face that night was one he’d selfishly held close through so many years: Her small heart-shaped face pale in the moonlight, her hair parted down the middle, bearing waves on each side from pigtails even after being brushed out.

  Our daughter will look like that.

  He couldn’t imagine anything he desired more than having a child with Jana, except bedding her, yes, definitely that, but that was a more immediate wish as opposed to long-term, but Cavin cleared his mind of all of it. Before he could consider any such blessings from the gods, he had a world to save and a woman’s trust to win. Neither would be easy, no matter what their feelings for each other.

  He’d never dreamed Jana wouldn’t be immediately and thoroughly convinced by him, or that she’d have obligations she’d need to think of first—career and family obligations. In his mind, she’d always recognized him right away. They’d fall into each other’s arms and soon after, of course, he’d make love to her. That very night, they’d approach Earth’s leadership. The leaders would listen to his plan and act immediately. And when it was over, when the fleet was turned away, Cavin would get his girl.

  He’d have to leave for a while, he’d tell her, to honorably resign his posting with the Coalition military. The Coalition would wonder at his decision. He’d never tell them, of course. “I’ve grown weary of war,” was all he’d have to say and it would be enough to seal his fate. Of course, there was the complication of the woman he’d been promised to marry, a woman he’d never even met, but once he gave up his position, he’d no longer fit into her plans. Then he’d find his father, bid him farewell, and return to Jana. She’d agree to be his mate. They’d make a life, make a family. And when the nights were warm in midsummer and the moon was full, he’d let Jana think he was magic all over again. He had it all planned out.

  Had, he reminded himself. One day cycle on Jana’s infuriating little world had taught him that plans meant little.

  He sighed and briefly touched her hair, letting his hand fall. Her unruly blond hair looked soft to the touch. It took all he had not to wrap it in his fingers and pull her to his mouth and kiss her senseless, as he had fifteen minutes ago.

  “Cavin, stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asked innocently.

  “Like you want to kiss me.”

  “And what if I did kiss you? Just one more kiss. Would it be so—”

  Jana pressed a warm finger against his lips. “Stop.”

  “Wrong?” he finished in a mumble. Holding himself very still, he watched her react to the feel of his mouth, the prick of his barely surfaced whiskers, the intensity of his stare.

  The heat between them crackled.

  She let her finger slide to his chin and leaned closer, her eyes closing. “I’m beginning to wonder if resistance is futile,” she whispered against his lips.

  The warden returned and rapped on the glass. They jumped apart before completing the kiss.

  Jana sighed. “Yenflarg,” she muttered.

  Cavin chuckled. “Such language would make a space-dockworker blush.”

  “Thank you. I wish my grandfather could hear that.”

  With a perplexed expression, the warden returned Jana’s cards. “Is there a problem, Officer?” she asked him innocently.

  “I’d pulled you over for speeding. But my radar says you were driving well under the speed limit.”

  “We wanted to be careful in the fog,” Jana said brightly.

  “I wish more folks were doing that tonight.”

  She nodded with sympathy.

  “Say, you’re not the Jana Jasper are you?”

  Jana’s laugh sounded high-pitched and false. “People keep saying that. Actually, I think I look more like Drew Barrymore.”

  “The actress?” He squinted. “Hmm, yeah. But you look more like John Jasper’s daughter. My partner didn’t think so. ‘Senator Jasper’s a real fashionable lady, smart and classy,’ she said.”

  As he walked away, Jana said, “Was I just insulted?” She pushed her tangled hair away from her face. Her clothing was soiled, and her bare feet dirty. Only her brightly colored toenails appeared unscathed. Noticing her condition for the first time, Cavin felt the heat of shame. He was supposed to be protecting this woman. “In the heat of battle, I didn’t think of what you’d suffered. It was either this, or risk losing you. I hope you can understand.”

  But Jana had no ear for his apologies. She clapped her hands together. “He didn’t think I was me!”

  “Unfortunately, our assassin friend will not be so easily fooled. We’ve outmaneuvered him, for now, but we’ll need to take cover.”

  Reality rushed back into her expression. “You’re right. We’ll go to my apartment—no, that’s not a good idea. My doorman will wonder who you are. And my neighbors are very social, very curious. Look at the way we’re dressed; they’ll ask questions.” Jana tapped her chin. “Must avoid questions.”

  Then she sna
pped her fingers. “Evie’s house. My sister. No questions there. She’s gone for a week, but she wouldn’t mind us staying the night. Start the car, Cavin. I’m getting you inside before you make me break any more laws.

  “Private as well as public,” she added under her breath and, with a screech of tires, roared up the entry ramp to the highway.

  Chapter Six

  AFTER RETURNING to the Safeway and exchanging the Chevy for her Jeep—where the only evidence of the halved SUV was a charred stain and some broken glass in the parking lot surrounded by yellow crime scene ribbon—Jana sped up Evie’s quiet street and into her empty garage before anyone who happened to be up could see the man in body armor sitting in her passenger seat.

  She parked and shut off the engine. The garage door rolled down, sealing them off from the street. And then it was quiet. Jana was acutely aware of his presence next to her in the car—his quiet breathing, his body heat, his scent. The memory of that explosive kiss. He, too, sat silently, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Her. Cavin. Alone together. Ay yi yi. What about that man-vacation? Hadn’t she sworn off men for a while?

  No, you swore off dating.

  Same thing, Jana thought. Or did childhood imaginary friends count?

  You already kissed him once, almost twice. You’re on the downhill slide.

  She shook her head. No. She’d made a promise to her family, and she’d stick to it. Cavin was a friend. If he came with benefits, well, she didn’t want to know about them.

  “Let’s go inside,” she said and limped to the interior garage door that led into the house.

  “I go first.” Cavin slid past her, his body in a protective stance. Muffled yipping echoed from the other side. Yarp. Yarp, yarp. Cavin tipped his head, his hand going to his weapons belt. “What is that noise?”

  “Don’t shoot. That’s Sadie. Well, sometimes we feel like shooting her, but really, she grows on you.” Jana unlocked the house. “After you, sir. You’re the one packing heat.”

  “Heat?” He glanced down at his body.

  The man had good instincts, if not perfect translation. “Heat as in a weapon. If REEF is waiting for us, I might fare better if you’re the one to say hello first.”

  He gave her a slightly dismayed, trust-me-not-to-lead-you-into-danger look. “The REEF is not here.”

  “Not yet. But the way my night is going…” At the entry panel, Jana flipped on all the lights until the house was blazing bright. “There, I feel safer now. Even if it’s an illusion, I’ll take it. My nerves are shot.”

  But Evie’s house was the perfect antidote for stress.

  Just for a moment, Jana let herself breathe it all in, the photos everywhere, the houseplants and flowers; the candles in scents like vanilla and pumpkin pie, cinnamon and apple, which, in Evie’s absence, replaced the usual sweet aroma of her baking. A pair of old tennis shoes sat by the door leading to the garage. A dust bunny took up space in another corner. On the railing by the stairs, someone had tossed a Stanford sweatshirt. It all cried out that a family lived here, one held together with love.

  “When my sister’s not here, it’s like the house is missing its heart,” she said, turning around.

  Cavin’s green eyes had gone very dark and soft. He’d never looked at her that way before, and especially not as a boy. It was a look she felt all the way from the butterflies in her tummy to her bare feet. “When I am not with you,” he said quietly, “it is as if I am missing my heart.”

  “Wow…” If she were a candle, she’d have spontaneously melted into a puddle of wax. And if he weren’t wearing platform boots that put his mouth safely out of reach, she’d have spontaneously kissed him, too. “I’m trying to resist you. You’re not making it any easier, talking like that.”

  He lifted his hands. “I will behave. On the gods, I swear it.”

  “And on my God, too.”

  “You have my word.”

  Yarp, yarp, yarp!

  “Sadie, it’s me! Where’s my little sweet girl?” Jana let go of Cavin and hobbled on her sore feet to the kitchen in search of Evie’s dog. Locked behind a baby gate in the kitchen, a little tan dog with a barrel chest jumped up on spindly legs. “There you are!”

  A full bowl of water and an empty one for food reassured her that the pet sitter had been by earlier. Twice a day Patti stopped by to take care of the animals and to let Sadie in and out of the kitchen.

  Jana spread her arms. “There you are!” The little pooch reminded her of a dog on ice skates, slipping and skidding in her frenzy to greet Jana and simultaneously shred Cavin. Her huge watery brown eyes looked downright mean. Foam dripped from her tiny muzzle. Nails clattered on the maple floor, tapping out a deadly warning to the alien intruder.

  Cavin stopped and stared at Sadie, “What is this creature?”

  “It’s a Chihuahua.” Jana lifted up the wriggling dog. “A beautiful little wuhvee-duhvee,” she cooed, kissing her. But Sadie would have no part of any soothing ploy. She wanted Cavin with a fanged, descended-from-wolves viciousness that transcended her tiny barrel-chested body. “I’m going to let her down. Is your armor pretty secure?”

  Cavin snorted. Jana set the little dog on her paws. In a frenzy of scraping nails and barking, Sadie ran to Cavin, who stood there in his interstellar body armor, regarding Sadie with a hint of amusement curving his mouth as the little dog told him who was boss in the house.

  Jana wondered how much exposure he’d had to things like families and homes and pets. Probably very little if he was a career military man for a society actively at war. Judging by the look on his face, he liked the experience. He’d given her so much. She was glad to be able to give him this one small thing, the taste of a home, of family. In his grown-up features, she saw a strong resemblance to the boy Peter: the love of mischief, the ready smile; but there was something new she hadn’t noticed in the chaos of the last few hours: a hint of loneliness and longing that made her want to hold him until she’d melted it away.

  Or she could just be searching for an excuse to touch the body encased by all that armor.

  “There are three cats, too, but they’re probably sleeping,” she said as Sadie’s barking subsided to a steady, high-pitched growl. “They have a bearded dragon, a chinchilla and a parakeet. The last two are locked up in cages. I’d warn you about the two teenagers who live here, but they’re away with my sister in Disneyland.”

  “An amusement park.”

  “That’s right. Good dictionary you’ve got there.” She moved aside the baby gate and stepped into the kitchen. From the counters of speckled brown granite to the rich tiles painted to look like cocoa beans that lined the backsplash to the group of candles in scents like white chocolate, raspberry truffle, and chocolate chip, chocolate was the theme. Unlike Jana, who seemed curiously lacking in domestic abilities, Evie was the most amazing cook. Candy was her specialty. Chocolate, in particular. She’d started selling some of her creations on the side during the holidays. Jana kept urging her to start up her own business, but Evie was still a bit down after the divorce. Maybe in time. She wanted to see Evie happy again. Her sister was her best friend, even after all these years.

  Jana used the sink to wash up while Cavin explored, supposedly checking the security of windows and doors, but out of curiosity, too, she knew.

  She looked down at her soiled suit, stained blouse, the dribbles of ice cream across her skirt, her shredded panty hose and dirty bare feet and sighed. Now that she wasn’t running for her life, the cuts and blisters on the pads of her feet stung. How was she going to wear pumps in the morning? Forget the shoes. How was she going to wake up, period? It had to be nearly 2:00 a.m. and 6:00 was the latest she could wake up to shower and get downtown to her apartment to change and still make breakfast with Mary Ann Schwarzkopf on time.

  As she wiped her face, feet and hands clean with chocolate-scented anti-bacterial soap—only Evie seemed to know where to find these things—Cavin inspected the sliding doors in the breakf
ast nook. Jana tried not to dwell on why. Evie would kill her if the assassin cut her house in half.

  Cavin returned to the kitchen looking tired. “Have a drink,” Jana said and offered him a glass of water. His gloved hand shook slightly before his fingers closed around the glass.

  He emptied the glass in a few thirsty swallows, then leaned to the left and winced.

  “Are you okay, Cavin? You don’t look so good.”

  “I believe now that the adrenaline is fading, I’m feeling the wound under the armor.”

  “You’re wounded?” Her heart started racing all over again. “But you can heal yourself, right? Like you did for me that night.” Healed her knee and so much more. Gave her the Gift of Gab.

  “If I activate the armor for the time and power level the healing would require, the REEF could quite possibly detect it and trace me here. If he does, there will be little I can do to stop him from breaking in and kill—”

  “Right. I’ve got Advil. It’s a painkiller. There are Band-Aids upstairs, and gauze pads, Bactine, Ace bandages, whatever you need. Evie’s well stocked because of the kids. They’re into about a million sports.”

  She grabbed his elbow and pushed him toward the family room. Sadie followed, ears perked. Hungry for fresh blood, the little beast. “How did you get hurt?”

  “It was a rough landing. I hit a tree.” He grimaced. “Maybe a few trees.”

  “You and trees. You really need to stay away from them.”

  “This time I had an excuse. The REEF was on my tail, trying to shoot me down. I’m not a formally trained pilot, but I do know how to fly a twenty-passenger troop transport vessel. Except, I tried to maneuver it like a fighter. I don’t think he expected that.” He made a small smile. “I saw his ship go down before I crashed. I thought it was destroyed. Apparently it was not.” He winced again.

  He flew a spaceship here. A spaceship. Cavin looked so normal, so human, that it was easy to forget he came from outer space. He was a space voyager, a galactic traveler who’d seen distant wonders that were the stuff of dreams. The realization left her bouncing between fear and fascination.