Alien Breeder

by Honey Phillips

  She looked oddly relieved. “Okay. I think I’ll go see about a change of clothes. I wonder if they are in as good a shape as the rest of the house. It’s actually remarkably clean.” Frowning, she ran a finger over a nearby surface. “No dust. I guess the cleaning service just kept coming.”

  “Everything looks well cared for,” he agreed, then handed her a small communicator. “If you need me, press this button. I will return shortly.”

  Sarah looked down at the small device in her hand and shook her head. Did he really think she was in danger in her own home? Still his protectiveness gave her a warm glow—it was nice to be taken care of for a change.

  As she walked back through the formal living rooms and up the main stairs, she noticed that the rest of the house was in equally excellent shape. The payment for the cleaning service was drafted automatically but it felt oddly creepy, as if she had never left.

  When she opened the double doors to the master bedroom, the first thing she saw was a picture of Jeff sitting next to the bed. She could have sworn she had put all of his pictures away when she had finally decided to move on with her life, but it seemed so long ago now. Perhaps she didn’t remember correctly. As she went to remove it, a wave of affectionate sadness swept over her. She would always remember him fondly, but the wound had healed. She took another look around and realized she didn’t want to sleep here with T’gana. This room represented her past; he was her future. Although only for the next month, she reminded herself once again.

  As she walked into her closet, she considered the options. The guest room on the first floor had never been used. Located at the back of the house, it too opened out onto the garden. It would be perfect.

  After pulling on her favorite pair of jeans and a cute tank, she gathered an armful of clothes. She had just made it to the top of the stairs with them when she heard an outraged squawk.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my son’s house?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sarah froze as she recognized her former mother-in-law’s voice. Suppressing a cowardly instinct to hide, she dropped the pile of clothes and hurried down the stairs. T’gana stood at the foot and she could tell by his rigid posture and pallor that Mae had startled him. She brushed a soothing hand across his back and stepped up next to him.

  “Mae.” She forced a pleasant smile. “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  The older woman perched in the doorway, one hand clutching the knob. The past nine months had not been kind to her. The hair pulled back into a stiff bun had turned completely white and she had gone from slender to gaunt. Her sunken eyes burned with outrage.

  “What is that…that thing doing here?”

  Sarah felt T’gana flinch at the high-pitched voice.

  “This is T’gana. He is a… friend of mine.”

  “A friend?” Outrage drove Mae’s voice even higher. “How can you be friends with one of them? They took you away from me!”

  “I broke the law,” she said quietly, reaching for usual calm patience. “But I’m back now. Would you like some tea?”

  “Not while he’s here.”

  Sarah took a deep breath. “He’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

  “What?!”

  Even Sarah flinched at the shriek and she could feel a fine tremor running through T’gana’s body. She needed to calm Mae down. Now. She started to step forward, but T’gana’s hand clutched hers. Mae instantly zoomed in on the touch but fortunately she appeared too shocked to speak.

  “Perhaps it would be best if you come back another day,” Sarah suggested, keeping her voice low.

  “You have the nerve to stand here in your husband’s house—in my son’s house—and tell me to leave?” Mae hissed.

  T’gana’s hand tightened. She snuck a glance up at him and saw the sweat beading on his temples. For once, her patience vanished completely.

  “It’s not Jeff’s house. It’s my house. And right now, I would like you to leave.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “I can and I will.”

  “After everything I’ve done for you,” Mae sobbed. Her anger seemed to disappear, and a tear rolled down her face. A pang of guilt swept over Sarah, but she was only too familiar with the bout of hysteria that was about to ensue. She refused to put T’gana through that.

  “Mae, I’m not going to ask you again. Please leave. When you’ve calmed down, we can talk.”

  Mae opened her mouth again, but T’gana had apparently reached the end of his control.

  “Leave,” he roared.

  With a startled yelp, the older woman turned and ran out of the house. Sarah sighed and rubbed her now aching head. Mae had been like a mother to her for many years—she would have to mend that bridge eventually. T’gana’s hand left hers and she turned to look up at him. His face was rigid, as hard as she had ever seen it.

  “You have a husband? A mate?” he growled.

  “Had. Had a husband. He died before the Yehrin came.”

  “You were mated, and you never mentioned it to me? You brought me to his house?” His voice was a low angry growl, but her own temper started to flare.

  “It is not his house. It is my house.”

  “The house you do not like? The house that does not suit you? The house you had to fight to have as you desired?”

  She winced. “It’s… complicated.”

  “No, it is not.” He turned and limped towards the door. “You may stay here in your husband’s house. I am leaving.”

  “You can’t leave,” she cried. “We have a contract.”

  He hesitated for a brief second but did not turn around.

  “I dissolve it,” he said hoarsely.

  Panic rose in her throat. He was leaving her again. “You can’t do it by yourself,” she said desperately. “We both have to agree to dissolve it.”

  Very slowly he turned and looked at her. “Why are you fighting it, S’rah? You have what you want. You are back on Earth. You are free. You can find another male to father a child for you.”

  “I don’t want another male,” she yelled, and then the tears spilled over. “I want you.”

  For one long horrible eternity, she stood there alone with the tears running down her cheeks and then T’gana’s arms were around her, his scent surrounding her, and she wasn’t alone anymore.

  “My S’rah,” he whispered. “Do not leak water.”

  T’gana stood with his arms around S’rah, hearts aching at her obvious distress but his own feelings a jumbled mess. Every instinct he possessed rebelled against occupying a domicile where S’rah’s mate had resided, but he knew his reactions were not entirely to be trusted. His nerves still thrummed from the unexpected encounter with the shrieking female. Although his monitors had detected her approach and he had been about to alert S’rah, he had not expected the female to simply enter the domicile.

  “Why does that female have a key?”

  She sighed, her voice weary. “She was my mother-in-law. I have a key to her house also, although I would never use it without talking to her first.”

  Keeping one hand firmly tucked in his uniform as if she was afraid he’d disappear, she moved away a little and looked around at the spotless domicile.

  “I suppose that explains it. She’s been making sure that everything was still being done. I’ll bet that’s why the photo was back and—oh, no.” She looked up, her beautiful eyes still reddened. “I want to take a look at something. Will you promise not to leave?”

  “I shall accompany you.”

  “You might not like it,” she warned.

  “I want no more secrets.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She smiled ruefully. “We really didn’t talk very much before, did we?”

  They had talked frequently, but of nothing important. Every second they had spent together had been a torturous combination of delight in her presence and the agonizing knowledge that six months would have to pass before he cou
ld claim her. So they had wandered around the grounds together and she had told him small things about knitting and flowers. Only once had their conversation gone any deeper. She had been telling him about a job caring for small humans and water had fallen from her eyes. For a brief second, he had seen how much she longed for a child of her own.

  Now he wondered if she knew how unlikely it would be for the breeding contract to succeed. He was about to broach the subject when she opened a large pair of wooden doors to one side of the entrance hall.

  “Damn her,” she said furiously, and he followed her gaze to a large portrait over the fireplace. A male, a human male dressed in white, occupied the painting. He was not large, and his brow was bare and defenseless, but he had a smug, human smile and T’gana could all too easily picture him with S’rah.

  “Is that your male?” Despite his efforts to remain calm, it came out as a growl.

  “Was. Was my male, but yes. I had removed the portrait, along with all of the photos—” She gestured at a set of cases filled with photographs and framed documents. “Mae must have found them and put them back up. She just can’t let go of him. Her house is the same way—his pictures, his trophies, every inch is devoted to him.”

  Unable to look at the smug face another instant, he ushered her out of the room and shut the door firmly behind them.

  “I will change the locks,” he promised, “but first I believe it is time for that talk you mentioned.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “At least she probably left the wine cellar intact. Let’s open a bottle and sit on the porch.”

  A short time later they were seated in the rear area overlooking the gardens. As soon as they were out of the house he felt better, more able to breathe. By tacit agreement they sat at opposite ends of a piece of furniture. He missed the warmth of her body and wanted to pull her closer, but he was still disturbed by the revelation of her former mate. He knew that human males did not claim their females the way a warrior claimed his L’chka, but the thought still troubled him. And yet, what right did he have to be jealous? He did not even have the courage to claim her.

  S’rah leaned back against the cushions, cradling a glass in her fingers and he found himself mesmerized by the sight. The extra digits only served to accentuate their differences, yet his shaft unexpectedly thickened as he remembered those small fingers stroking his cock. Shifting uncomfortably, he returned to the subject.

  “Why is this house yours but not yours?”

  Small white teeth fastened on her delectable lower lip as she stared out at the gardens. He suspected he was not seeing them.

  “My husband, Jeff, and I practically grew up together. His mother worked for my father, and after my mother died, I spent most of my time with them.” A shadow crossed her face. “My father worked all the time and he was rarely around.”

  Another male who did not care for his offspring. He shook his head—he did not understand human males. S’rah tucked a leg up under her, the snug fabric drawing his attention to the soft curve of her hip.

  “My dad approved of Jeff. He was happy when we started dating, even though we were only in high school. He even helped out with his college tuition and medical school.”

  “Your mate was a scholar? A healer?” The old feeling of inadequacy tugged at him.

  “Yes, I suppose you could say that. He was always good in school and he became a surgeon. So anyway, when he set up his practice, he and my dad decided we needed a house befitting his status.” Her brows drew together. “Neither one of them asked me. They just thought I would be thrilled because it was so big and fancy, even though it was all the way across town from the daycare where I worked.”

  Another reminder of his failings. He would never be able to provide her with such a domicile, although if he could, he would consider her wishes of the utmost importance.

  “The ironic thing is that even though it was Jeff’s taste rather than mine, Dad was the one who actually bought it and he gave it to me. It’s in my name.” She looked at him, eyes troubled. “So it is my house but not my house. I had been thinking of selling it and going back to college when I was… detained by the Yehrin.”

  “You do not wish to live here?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not permanently. I just thought that for now, it’s peaceful and it’s private.” She took a deep breath. “But if you really don’t want to stay, we could go back to the ship.”

  He looked out over the garden, the lush greenery glowing in the setting sun. A faint floral scent drifted past and an avian chirped softly. His instincts still protested occupying another male’s domicile, but he realized that the serenity of his surroundings had already helped to ease the lingering tension from the female’s invasion. S’rah moved closer, putting a coaxing hand on his arm. “There is a bedroom down here we could share. No one has ever slept there. And it has a nice big bed.”

  Despite his doubts, his cock jerked at the vision that sprang to mind of her sprawled naked across a bed. More importantly, now that he knew she had been unhappy on the ship, he did not want to force her to return. While he could not provide for her future happiness, at least he could care for her during their time together.

  “Very well,” he agreed.

  “Oh, thank you.” She climbed onto his lap, carefully avoiding his injured leg, and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry. We’ll just use the bedroom and my room, and it will be our house within a house. And the kitchen, I suppose.” Her nose wrinkled. “I’ll miss that replicator.”

  “Your cooking facilities are not adequate?”

  “Are you kidding? I have every gadget known to man. I’m just not much of a cook. We ordered food or ate out most of the time.”

  “I can obtain a replicator,” he assured her, “but I am intrigued by the idea of creating food without one.” And it would give him another way to provide for her.

  “Maybe we could cook together,” she said almost shyly.

  “I always desire your presence,” he said truthfully.

  She reached up to kiss him again, but this time he didn’t let her escape so quickly. He cupped her head while he parted her lips, demanding that she surrender her mouth to him. She didn’t resist, melting against him as he took possession of her mouth, claiming her in the only way he could. His hand went to her waist and he growled in frustration when he could not slip his fingers under the tight fabric.

  He lifted his head and frowned at her. “I do not like this clothing. It restricts my access to you.”

  She tilted her head back, her pretty mouth flushed and swollen, and raised an eyebrow. “I feel the same way about your uniform.”

  “Your clothes conceal only beauty,” he said before he considered, then cursed silently as sorrow crossed her face. He did not want her pity.

  “Oh, T’gana—”

  He covered her mouth with his, kissing her until she was breathless and he could feel her damp heat even through her annoying clothing.

  “I believe you mentioned a bed?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarah bit back a squeak when T’gana stood up with her in his arms. She had never been the type of woman that a man wanted to carry but T’gana lifted her effortlessly. Her already needy pussy gave an impatient little pulse.

  “Through there,” she murmured, then devoted herself to nibbling kisses along his neck and shoulders.

  He opened the French doors off the porch and came to a complete stop. When she reluctantly raised her head, he was staring around in shock.

  “This is not like the ship,” he muttered.

  Sarah had to hide her smile as she followed his gaze. She had managed to restrain their designer somewhat in the master bedroom, but here the woman had reigned unchecked and turned the guest room into an ode to Versailles. The huge bed was a gilded confection of ornate carving and pale blue velvet. Pale-blue silk wallpaper, delicately embroidered with tiny white flowers, covered most of the walls but the piece de resistance was the wall opposite the bed. Designed to res
emble the Hall of Mirrors, ornate gold-framed mirrors were placed on top of more mirrors for a dizzying effect.

  When she looked up at him, expecting him to share her amusement, he was staring at the mirrored wall looking horrified.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  “I forgot that I am no longer myself.” He started to put her down, but she tightened her arms around his neck.

  “You are still the man I fell in— the man I started to care for.”

  “I am not a man,” he said stiffly, turning his head away from his reflection.

  “You know what I mean,” she said impatiently. “You are the same male, the same Yehrin warrior.”

  “I am no longer a warrior.” The pain in his voice tugged at her heart, but she refused to let her sympathy dictate her response.

  “Bullshit. If someone broke into this house right now, what would you do?”

  “I would protect you.”

  “Of course you would. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what makes you a warrior. Not your position in the fleet.”

  His head tilted as if he were considering her words and she took advantage of his hesitation.

  “Walk over to the mirror with me.” He reared back, but she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Please.”

  Obviously reluctant, he obeyed. When they were standing in front of it, she took a deep breath. Sarah the Seductress, attempt two.

  “Now tell me what you see.”

  “A beautiful female and a damaged male.”

  She pushed lightly on his hands and he let her slide down his body to the ground. Despite his anxiety, the rigid bar of his cock proved that he was still interested in what they had started outside. She turned to face the mirror, keeping his arms around her.

  “Should I tell you what I see?” Her voice came out surprisingly low and husky. Gathering her courage, she brought his hand to her breast. Long grey fingers tipped with black claws covered the generous mound.

  “I see a big, strong warrior.” He flinched, and she repeated firmly. “A warrior. One whose hand is touching me, caressing me.” She pressed on his hand and it clenched instinctively, sending a little shock of pleasure rippling through her system. When she looked at his face in the mirror, he was focused on his hand. Good.