by Kiersten Fay
No doubt, if the government found out there was an honest-to-god alien living among them, she would be strapped to a gurney for the rest of her life while they dissected every inch of her.
But despite all this, Kyra had allowed herself to form an attachment to Zoey that she knew would only end in a sorrowful departure. She’d been living in New York for far too long now. Soon it would be time to move, change her last name, and become someone else. L.A., London, Paris. She had domiciles all over the world.
The door chimed. Angelo had arrived for his shift. Kyra looked at the clock, amazed at how quickly the day passed.
“Gurl, did you see Project Runway last night? Those outfits were hideous! I’d be sendin’ all those mofo’s home.”
Kyra couldn’t help but chuckle. Angelo had on a pair of bright green skinny jeans and a black and white patterned top that was painful to look at.
Zoey laughed. “You’re just mad ‘cause you applied and they rejected you.”
“Hello, they called me vanilla!” He motioned from his stylish, burgundy Mohawk to his brightly decorated combat boots. “Is thisss…vanilla? I don’t think so.” Chin lifted, he sauntered past them into the back room, to change into the standard black on black work attire.
Zoey called after him, “Just so you don’t hear it from somebody else, and get mad at me for not telling you, I dumped Kevin.”
Dramatically, Angelo poked his head out. “Whaaat?”
She rolled her eyes and showed him the mark. The previous incident hadn’t exactly been a secret.
“Gurl, you just send him my way. I’ll strap him to my bed and teach him a thing or two about how to treat a lady. Okay?” He snapped his fingers.
When Angelo disappeared again, Kyra asked, “So where are you staying?”
“Well, I was wise enough, at least, to keep my old apartment.”
“Okay, good.” She hesitated. “But if you needed…you know, for a couple of nights or something…you don’t even have to ask.”
Zo’s head snapped up, and her lips pressed into a grateful smile. “Thanks.” She looked at the clock. “Where is Joe?”
“You know he’s always late.”
“Grrr. Well, do you mind if I go get changed now?”
“Go ahead. I think I can handle making a cup of coffee by myself if I need to.”
Twenty minutes later, Joe was tapping his code into the register. He had his usual California surfer haircut in perfect disarray.
“Hey Jo-jo-cup-a-joe,” Zoey greeted as she traipsed out of the women’s restroom. Her straight black hair fell over a tight, strapless, glittery dress.
A gurgling sound bubbled out of Joe’s gaping mouth.
“Aw, thanks, Joey.”
Kyra clocked out and retrieved her satchel. The bathroom light flickered a dull blue.
She pulled out her black heels and set them aside, then traded her plain black T for a gauzy top that stayed with nothing but a thin tie in the back and happy thoughts. Her jeans sat low on her hips and were factory torn in all the right places, making them look effortlessly sexy. After strapping her shoes in place, she fluffed her long hair and applied a touch of make-up.
“Voilà,” she said to the mirror.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she found Zoey on her cell phone, frown in place. She was muttering so no one else could hear—or so she thought. Joe and Angelo were scowling.
“No…I don’t want to see you again…I’ll manage…I don’t care if you’re…just stop…I won’t be treated like that…it’s over…No…”
Kyra stopped listening. When Zoey finally hung up, she asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. If I didn’t answer he would have just kept calling all night.”
“Zo, you could just turn the phone off.”
Zoey frowned. “The hospital might call.”
“Hospital?”
“Yeah, I haven’t told anyone yet. Mom went into surgery yesterday.”
“Why?”
“They said the tumor was spreading so rapidly that if they didn’t try to get it now, it would be too late.”
“And she’s still in the hospital?”
“She hasn’t woken up yet. They found a second tumor, wrapped around her spine. They said it was too advanced to…” Zoey’s jaw clenched, her eyes glistening.
Kyra put her arms around her while Zoey silently shook. “We don’t have to go out if—”
“No, please. If I don’t get out, I’ll just sit at the hospital and lose it.” She wiped her eyes. “They said they’d call as soon as she woke up.”
Kyra nodded, knowing what it was like to want to forget your problems for a night.
Outside, they scarfed down a couple of fully loaded dirty-water dogs from a nearby vendor and then hailed a cab.
The club was already packed when they arrived. Zoey headed for the bar to order their first round of drinks, while Kyra found the dance floor. Music blasted from the surrounding speakers. Each harsh beat vibrated through her feet, making it impossible not to move.
It wasn’t long before a small group of guys were inching closer, testing the water. Others looked on to see how they fared. All she’d need to do was smile, and they would be putty.
She didn’t smile.
Not that she wasn’t interested. She’d had her share of temporary relationships. A couple of guys had caught and held her interest for a time. She thought of them fondly now, but she had never found a deep connection with any of them.
Zoey joined her on the dance floor and handed her some kind of orangy-red drink. It tasted fruity. They danced a couple of songs, club-whispering about which guys they thought were cute.
Unfortunately, Zoey had the absolute worst taste in men. Though not when it came to looks. When it came to looks, she was a spot on hottie detector. But when it came to personality, the girl was intuitively-challenged.
Like something out of Night at the Roxbury, two dark haired guys presented themselves, separating the girls with their bodies. Zoey gave a thumbs-up and went with it. Kyra rolled her eyes and snorted, which couldn’t be heard over the music.
The song changed into something a little more rhythmic, and she let it speak through her movements, allowing the guy his chance to impress her. At least he had the guts to try—a rare quality these days.
But when he started mentioning cars and going for rides, she’d had enough. She wanted to make sure Zo wasn’t getting the same sweet talk, but she saw Zo smiling, and her partner keeping his hands in the safe zones, so she decided to head to the bar for a refill instead.
While waiting for the bartender, she took in the euphoric atmosphere. Multicolored lights snaked over gyrating bodies. On the balcony, a DJ watched over the crowd, manipulating them through melody like a puppeteer.
Next to him, a man caught her eye. His stance was bored, his manner cool. Arms crossed in front of him, he leaned on the banister, looking down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. His biceps weren’t huge but there was obvious power in them. His eyes were piercing, and even from where she was standing, she could tell they were steely blue.
But all this wasn’t what had snared her attention. It was the familiar black hat and tank top, and the fact that he didn’t look away when she’d caught his gaze.
She swallowed, realizing the scrutiny unnerved her. But why should it? Another quick sweep revealed more than half a dozen men sneaking glances at her. It was not unusual. She understood that her features appealed to humans. Usually it was flattering. But she couldn’t shake the sudden sense of alarm.
Maybe it was his riveted, unwavering gaze, when anyone else caught staring would have pretended to look elsewhere.
Glancing back at him, she met his gaze once more, curious how long his would linger. Then his lips quirked in an amused grin, and he raised a brow at her. She narrowed her eyes, instantly irritated. A strange reaction, but she didn’t fight it.
“Can I get you something?” The bartender broke her focus.
“
Yeah, a hurricane, please.”
She paid the outrageously bloated price and sipped the sweet beverage. Then she glanced back to the balcony. The man was no longer there. A couple of women had taken his place, dancing as if they were on a stage rather than a crowded balcony.
Kyra chewed her straw, surveying the rest of the club. She told herself it wasn’t for that mysterious man, but she knew it was a lie.
Zoey continued to dance. She’d managed to catch the attention of both Roxbury brothers. As long as they didn’t start bumping their chests against Zoey, Kyra would leave them be.
The music transformed again, and she pushed back onto the dance floor, letting it take over. Each beat was like a physical pulse to the crowd, making them all move as if of one mind. The songs played out, morphing smoothly from one tune to the next. When its story became a little more frenzied and sensual, the dancers responded in kind.
The feel of a hand on her hip surprised her. She spun around to find the man in the dark hat, amused expression still in place. He didn’t give her much time to react before pulling her into his personal dance space with a palm to the small of her back.
Unused to the show of aggression, she froze, but not for long. He expertly maneuvered her. An outside viewer would probably not recognize her awkward stiffness.
He stood only slightly taller than she, but seemed to loom over her nonetheless, his eyes just as intense as before. She could tell that his blond hair was cut short under his hat. His jaw was smooth and shapely, and…nibble-able. He was too handsome for his own good, and obviously knew it.
She sensed there was something different about him. This man was in no way unsure of himself or deterred by her stunned reaction, and there was an undercurrent of danger. Her instincts were going haywire.
Despite herself, she smiled. It wasn’t often that someone took her by surprise. And as unusual as his actions were, they were a welcome relief from the stagnant repetitiveness of her life. She could use a little excitement for a change. Even if it was just an insignificant dance with an overconfident stranger.
She relaxed as the music changed again. There had been a little gap between them, but as soon as he felt her relent, there was no gap at all. The heat of his body and smell his masculine scent appealed to her, and she leaned closer. His breath on her skin tingled, and she shivered.
She turned in his arms, so that her back was to his chest, and rolled her hips to the beat. His arms came around her stomach as their bodies crushed together. They were both now at the command of the puppet master.
Zoey caught her eye with a look full of implications and fake fanned herself. The guy Kyra had been dancing with gave her new partner a disdainful glare. The man either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She could practically feel his attention on her alone, even though she wasn’t facing him.
Stirring her hips, Kyra lifted her arms around his neck, and he buried his nose in her hair. His hot palm found the front waist of her jeans, and he ran the tips of his fingers under it, while his other hand trailed down the underside of her arm. The sensation was drugging.
Then he moved aside her hair and chuckled.
Her body reacted on instinct, breaking away and twirling to face him. For the second time, he’d caught her off guard. But then, how would she have known he would go for the ears?
She was ready with her usual explanation, but he didn’t ask about them like most people would. But why? She knew he’d gotten a good look.
Her heart pick up pace as it registered something that her brain was only now figuring out.
His stance was too casual and relaxed. He didn’t look confused or curious. In fact, he didn’t look surprised at all by her sudden movement. The way he stood said he’d expected it, and she didn’t like the knowing curve to his lips.
The music shifted again, becoming something sinister—or perhaps that was just her interpretation—as they stared at each other.
Zoey must have noticed, because she appeared by her side with her entourage, brandishing the proper look of confusion on their faces.
“Ky? What’s going on?” she asked.
Kyra wasn’t sure how to answer that. What was going on? Instead of saying anything, she just gave Zo the signal. The one they would use to alert the other, “time to go, don’t ask questions.” A very useful tool they had borrowed from a popular sitcom, though Kyra never thought she’d be the one to actually use it.
Without question, Zo waved goodbye to the Roxbury twins and headed for the exit. Kyra tailed her. She glanced back once, to make sure he wasn’t following, but the empty space where he had been was quickly engulfed by the oblivious crowd.
In the cab, Zo inquired about their hasty retreat, but could only reply, “I just didn’t like that guy. He gave me the willies.”
“Damn. It’s always the hot ones, isn’t it?”
Later, after a few more hurricanes at their second club destination, Kyra considered that she might have overreacted. He probably hadn’t meant to scope out her ears. Or, if he had, it was more likely that he had a weird fetish, rather than some prior knowledge of what he would find.
Some guys like feet. Suffice it to say, some might have a thing for ears. She’d heard of a website dedicated to clown sex for crying out loud. Anything was possible.
Anything except for the concealed understanding she’d seen behind his eyes.
Chapter 2
Calic leaned casually against a tree across the street from her apartment building. The shadows of night kept him hidden.
He’d arrived on Earth more than a month ago, on a mission to find and protect the Faieara princess, Kyra. While searching for her, he’d educated himself on the ways of this planet.
It had been the opposite of what he’d expected. Marada’s database had detailed this planet as primitive and archaic. Instead, what he found was evidence of multiple space-culture colonization.
He’d walked the streets for weeks surprised to find dragon blood in the veins of these humans, or denaloid in their mannerisms, Serakian beliefs in their Wiccan religion, among other characteristics from the many races he’d encountered while traveling as a space merchant.
There were also signs of his own people making their mark here, which was even more interesting. However, the general consensus of demons was inconvenient. Somehow, his kind, or a race that resembled his kind, had carved their way into the worst parts of human mythology. To these people, demons were without morals, abhorred, feared. He could foresee it making contact a pain in the ass.
But, whatever events had transpired to bring so many unrelated factions together on one little planet had obviously happened ages ago. Humanity had no memory of it, and the bloodlines had become so diluted, any one human’s true lineage was no longer clear.
And there were so many of them!
The planet was practically over populated. When he’d first arrived, Cale had been shocked by their numbers, and worried that he would never be able to find Kyra.
Luckily, fate had been on his side.
By chance, he’d found her three days ago when he came across her scent in the park. It was instantly familiar to him. Kyra’s younger sister, Anya, had a similar fragrance, though not as intriguing.
He’d followed it to her apartment complex. Her location couldn’t have been any more blatant than if she’d rubbed herself over every inch of matter leading up to the entrance.
Thank the gods he’d gotten here before the Kayadon.
Fortunately, that was one race he hadn’t detected in this melting pot of DNA, although that didn’t mean they weren’t here somewhere. The land was massive.
Shortly after discovering where Kyra lived, he’d figured out which room was hers. Fifth floor, on the corner. He figured she’d chosen it because only those apartments offered balconies, and early this morning she had lounged on hers with a steaming cup in hand, gazing into the park.
Currently, her windows were dark. She hadn’t returned yet.
He’d expected
her to head straight home after their encounter, but five hours later, here he was, still waiting.
At the club, his intentions had been to verify her identity and finally present himself as her temporary protector until Marada came. But when she’d first looked up at him on the balcony, he saw a spark of intuition flash over her features. Ever so subtly, her mood had become suspicious, guarded. Any little movement on her part seemed defensive. She’d assessed her surroundings, as if expecting an ambush.
At that point, he couldn’t help but to have a little fun.
Her reactions had been entertaining and told him more about her than she probably realized. She’d gone straight into a fighting stance when he’d peeked at her cute little ear.
He thought back to Anya’s training. She had been all but helpless, and he was glad to see that might not be the case with her older sister.
Hopefully his actions hadn’t put her too on edge. He chuckled, remembering how wide her eyes had gone. They were the oddest color. For a strange moment he’d gotten lost in trying to decipher the best name for it. Coupled with her smile, she had the power to bring any man to his knees. Well, any man but him.
Pulling him from his musings, he noticed one of those yellow vehicles had stopped in front of her building. He watched her step out with a little less grace than she’d shown earlier in the night before paying the driver. Her little black haired friend was nowhere in sight.
Her step faltered, and a random giggle escaped her as she headed toward the entrance guard. Cale snorted, realizing she was drunk. She paused before reaching the guard, who patiently held the door open, and turned to adjust the strap of her bag. While she was at it, her gaze scanned the edge of the park.
Had she felt him watching her? She had never sensed him before. Not even this morning, when he had been so close. He’d followed her to the pond, where he had originally detected her scent.