by Tamsin Ley
A truck rumbled along between the warehouses several blocks away, and she held her breath until it passed. Checking behind her to make sure he followed, she said, “Come on.”
They managed to avoid detection until a bay door rolled open, spilling bright yellow light onto the drenched asphalt along with the voices of two bantering men. Angie yanked Sten toward a tiny church nestled between the warehouses, a remnant of some long-ago era when this land had probably been nothing more than a mining camp. “In here.”
The door was locked, but Sten forced it open with a shove. They ducked inside, leaning against the door behind them. Angie’s gaze darted around the tiny foyer. God, please let it be the pastor’s day off. The church smelled like cleaning products and wood oil, and the dark wood paneling and decorative scrollwork had been well maintained.
A nearby coat rack held several bright yellow choir robes, and coffee supplies sat waiting on a folding table next to the sanctuary door. She scanned the bulletin board, hoping to learn the church’s office hours. Almost buried beneath the community service announcements and a huge flyer for the upcoming Fall Festival, she spotted a little plaque with the church’s office hours. She breathed a sigh of relief. “It looks like we have a few hours. The office doesn’t open until ten.”
Sten moved toward the sanctuary. “Still, we must seek seclusion.”
Angie’s stomach rumbled, and she eyed the coffee urn with longing. Any chance it might be full? Her insides were gnawing at her in a way she’d never experienced before, and while coffee wouldn’t exactly fill her up, it would be better than nothing. She toggled the spigot as they passed, but it was empty. Pausing only long enough to tear open several packets of dry coffee creamer and upend them into her mouth, she hurried after Sten, who was already halfway down the aisle between the pews. The creamer did little to stop the biting ache taking over her middle. Why was she so unbearably hungry?
A side door behind the altar led to a small office with a tiny window looking into an alley. Sten peered around the dim interior. “This is satisfactory for now.”
She took off her soaked bathrobe, flexing her shoulders as she wrung it out. She felt like her entire body had turned into a prune in the rain, the itching, tingling sensation she’d felt since the fall still rippling over her in sporadic waves. Although her skin was covered in goosebumps, she felt strangely warm, as if whatever changes were happening inside her were heating her blood. She hung the robe on the back of the desk chair. “How long do you need to heal? Can I do something to help?”
Teeth bared, he stretched his injured wing forward and attempted to grasp the clawed tip. “I am afraid I will not heal on my own from this. And I cannot achieve the correct angle to readjust the joint on my own.”
She’d never had to deal with an injury like this, but she’d seen a few movies where the hero had suffered a dislocated shoulder. Was a wing similar? “What can I do?”
He turned around. “You must pull hard enough to move the joint back into place.”
Apparently it was the same as the movies. This was going to hurt like hell. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the end of his wing just above the claw. It felt more fragile than she expected, the membrane like buttery-soft buckskin. What if she did it wrong? Was it possible she’d do more harm than good? She swallowed, knowing she had no other option but to try.
While he braced himself, she pulled, but her hands slipped. Her mouth was filling with the salty-sweet flavor of her dassa, but she pushed it aside. How could she even be thinking about sex at a time like this? But the feel of Sten’s skin was making her pussy tighten with desire.
He grunted and adjusted. “Again.”
Where was her super-Khargal strength when she needed it? Or had she only imagined it when she’d punched the lab guy in the face? Summoning all her will, she tried again. No success. But Sten turned to her, his emerald eyes gleaming. “You are driving me crazy, Hondassa.”
She licked her lips, trying to keep her gaze on his face and not his rippling abs. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”
“Not that.” His nostrils flared. “I can smell your arousal. It is distracting.”
Her glance slid down to his waist, and she gulped. His cock was bulging against the fly of his wet jeans, actually moving as if it had a life of its own. “I can’t help it. What’s wrong with me?”
He took a step forward that in any other situation would’ve been menacing, but right now felt like a promise. “Unfulfilled lust can interfere with Khargal healing.”
She licked her lips. “We’re in a church. The pastor could come back at any moment. Or the Syndicate.”
He flexed his hips. “Then we must be quick.”
In another step, he was against her, his arms circling her waist. She arched into him, looping both arms around his neck and lifting her face to his kiss. His tongue slid along her lower lip, turning the heat between her legs into an inferno of need. One big hand flattened against her lower back, then slid lower to cup her ass before delving lower, until his fingertips met her pussy, probing against the fabric. Against her belly, his erection throbbed insistently as his tongue probed her. She opened her mouth wider, tangling her tongue against his, tasting her dassa mixing with his in an elixir more potent than any aphrodisiac on Earth or any other planet.
She dragged her hands down his front to open the robe. The crotch of his jeans bulged, straining the zipper, and the moment she’d released the button, the tip of his cock appeared above the waistline. Fuck, he was huge, and she loved every inch of him. She shimmied out of her panties while he jerked his fly the rest of the way open. Lifting one leg up around his waist, she pressed herself against him, rolling her clit over his hard length. “God, that’s good.”
He growled low in his throat and carried her two steps to press her back against the closed office door. The rough wood scraped her shoulder blades, and she wriggled finding a slight relief to the itch that had consumed her since her fall. Sten’s wings shuddered behind him and he grunted, but kept his hold. Whatever pain he was feeling didn’t seem to diminish his hunger. With both hands under her ass, he picked her up, impaling her with a single plunge. She moaned, throwing her head back and reveling in the fullness while clenching and unclenching her muscles around him.
Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and began driving into her, each ridge along his shaft stroking her most sensitive inner spots. Every slam drove her against the door, and she clawed her fingertips into his shoulders, gritting her teeth as wave upon wave of pleasure rose within her. Never had sex been like this before. Her body burned. She hooked her heels around him and strained to meet his thrusts. As she crested the wave of her climax, her spine stiffened. Something inside her seemed ready to break loose. She couldn’t catch her breath. But she couldn’t stop the momentum. Her orgasm rocketed through her, rolling up her spine and across her shoulders until she felt as if her heart might explode. She clung to Sten as if her life depended on it, feeling his return release fill her.
After a moment of heavy breathing together, Sten pulled back to look into her eyes. His mouth was slightly open, and a look of pride swept over his face. “My Hondassa.”
She smiled languidly in return. He lowered her back to her feet. Her legs felt like rubber bands, but her shoulder blades burned, and another sensation reached her, something altogether unfamiliar. She turned her head to the right and yelped.
A delicate claw-tipped wing trembled against the doorframe. Her claw-wiped wing. “Is that… is that a fucking wing?”
Sten reached out and gently stroked the pinion. The sensation of his touch rolled through her. “Remember how we discussed my dassa, and that it would likely strengthen you and extend your life? It has also apparently strengthened your latent Khargal attributes.”
“But wings? I mean, where did they come from?”
He reached beneath her arms and touched her shoulder blades where the wings emerged. “I imagine they have always been there. You just did not know
how to extend them.” He leaned in and kissed her before closing his fly. “Have I mentioned I like your underclothing?”
How was he taking this so well? This was freaky as hell, even if it was kind of cool. Wings! Did this mean she would be able to fly? She stepped away from the door and looked over her shoulder at the trembling wing tip. She concentrated and was delighted to watch it spread wide, fanning the air strongly enough to force her to reestablish her footing. “So, does this mean I can fly? Maybe I can fly us where we need to go.”
Sten shook his head. “No, my little Hondassa. Learning to fly takes time. For now, you need to learn to retract them.”
“Oh.” She blinked at the outstretched pinion. With concentration, she could make it fan the air, but hell if she knew how to fold it up and make it disappear. “How am I supposed to do that?”
A crash from the alley outside made her jump, and she realized the garbage truck was here for pick up. Fuck, what time was it? She had to figure this out, or they’d never get out of here. Sten once more reached around her and placed his fingertips on her shoulder blades. The sensation of his touch against the base of her wings made her giggle. He chuckled. “Ticklish, huh? I’ll have to remember that.” Turning serious, he gripped the joint where it emerged from her back. “You must focus on retracting from here, not the wing itself.”
That made sense. Angie closed her eyes, focusing on the spot his fingers had touched. A strange curling sensation rolled through her, making her insides clench. She gasped and reached out to steady herself, finding Sten’s solid chest a welcome comfort. “Did I do it?”
He flattened his hands against her shoulder blades. “Well done. Now just remember not to let them unfurl on instinct.”
“Great.” Still unsteady from both her orgasm and the revelation she had wings, she picked up her panties and stepped into them. “So how are we going to get out of here if we can’t fly?”
He let out a long breath. “We must continue our journey on foot.”
On foot? “On foot isn’t really an option. You stick out like a sore thumb.” She glanced around the office again, hoping for a miraculous set of keys to the church van or something. Her gaze fell on the office phone. “I think we should call Mae for help.”
His brows drew together. “That would be unwise.”
“I doubt they’re watching her. York said he was shorthanded, and he believed he’d already captured you.” She picked up the phone. Calling Mae would be the smartest thing they could do. “She’s a doctor—a nurse practitioner. I bet she’ll know how to fix your wing.”
He rubbed his jaw. “If you do not believe she is being watched, then it is worth a try.”
Sighing with relief, Angie dialed. Mae picked up on the first ring. “Mae, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank God! Sten came looking for you last night—”
“I need your help. We have people after us and Sten’s hurt.” That last part emerged half choked as reality hit her in the gut. She would never see her house or garden again. Letting out a shaky breath, she gave Mae the address off the church’s letterhead. “Would you also please bring me some clothes? And whatever you do, make sure no one follows you.”
“Of course. Give me an hour.”
“Thank you, Mae.” Angie hung up. According to the clock on the wall, Mae’s arrival would be cutting it close for the church’s office hours. The rain outside eased enough to allow the morning light to penetrate into the alley along with the noise of a city fully awake. Every passing truck had her on edge. Her stomach growled loudly in the quiet office. “I can’t believe how hungry I am.”
“It is part of the healing.” Sten pulled open a desk drawer, revealing a half-empty family-sized bag of M&Ms. “These smell edible.”
“God, yes they are.” She snatched up the bag and poured out a handful. “Want some?”
“I must admit I am curious. These are chocolate, correct?”
She raised a brow. “You’ve been on Earth how long, and you’ve never tasted chocolate?”
He shrugged and winced, his wing shuddering. “I have not been in a situation that provided the opportunity.”
“Well, here.” She grabbed his hand and filled it with the candies. “Eat up.”
He tossed the handful into his mouth and his eyes went wide. His gaze went back to the bag in her hand.
“You like them.”
“I can see why humans speak so highly of this food.”
Laughing, she poured more into his hand. “Welcome to the dark side.”
They finished the bag, then scouted the rest of the office for more food. Two ceramic coffee mugs sat on the edge of the desk, and Sten devoured one, but Angie stopped him when he reached for the one with World’s Best Dad on it. “That probably means something to someone.”
He nodded and withdrew his hand. Angie smiled tightly, trying not to think of all the memorabilia like that she was leaving behind. She should’ve asked Mae to grab something—anything—from her house. But then that might put her friend in greater danger than she was already in. Another truck rumbled past, and an airplane buzzed by overhead. Angie’s gut clenched as she realized that meant Syndicate backup could arrive in the area at any time.
At ten minutes before ten, Angie took Sten’s hand. The last thing they wanted was the pastor calling the cops because he discovered them inside. At least they might be able to pass off as Halloween partygoers outside. She shrugged into her damp robe, suppressing her urge to let her wings free as the terry-cloth rubbed against her shoulders. “We should wait out front for Mae.”
As they exited the front doors, a skinny man was stepping out of a beaten-down Volvo parked along the sidewalk. He frowned at them, sizing up Sten’s wings. “Can I help you?”
Angie’s heart pounded frantically against her ribs. He must work here. They’d taken too long. Maybe she could beg sanctuary. Wasn’t that a thing? “Are you the pastor here?”
“I am.”
A semi rolled past, shaking the street. Behind it, Mae’s truck appeared. Angie let out an explosive breath and grinned at the pastor. “Never mind. Our ride’s here. Thank you.”
Grabbing Sten’s hand, she raced past the wide-eyed man toward Mae. Her friend gaped at them as Angie climbed into the passenger side. “You’re the best, Mae.”
Sten took one look at the cramped space, then catapulted into the bed, rocking the pickup. In the blink of an eye, he was lying flat against the bottom. “Drive,” he commanded.
Mae’s eyebrows were nearly at her hairline, but she put the truck into gear and pulled around the lumbering semi.
15
Angie watched through the pickup’s rear glass in case anyone was following while Mae peppered her with questions. As far as she could tell, no one was following them—yet. But she didn’t put it past the Syndicate to track them down. Her gaze kept drifting down to Sten lying flat in the back end, pelted by rain, his dislocated wing jouncing at every turn and bump. But until they were no longer surrounded by people, there was no other choice.
“Angie!” Mae’s sharp tone finally jerked Angie’s attention away from the window. “You’re freaking me the hell out. What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into?”
“You wouldn’t believe me.” Angie rolled her shoulders and swallowed.
Mae shot a glance over her shoulder toward Sten. “Try me.”
Letting out a long breath, Angie filled her friend in on everything. The sheriff’s betrayal, the horrible fake FBI agents, even the baby.
“Back this truck up. You’re pregnant?”
“I think so?” Her voice rose into a question on the last word and she let out a shaky laugh. “Can a doctor even tell if someone’s pregnant that fast?”
“There are tests that can tell after seventy-two hours,” Mae assured her. “But, damn, girl. I didn’t realize you could get pregnant with a statue. Good thing that’s never happened with my vibrator.”
Leave it to Mae to break the tension. Angie huffed, the pressure
in her chest easing slightly. “He’s not a statue.”
“I know.” Mae winked at her. “Seriously, though, I wouldn’t have guessed his DNA could even mix with a human’s.”
Angie cupped a hand over her belly. “I knew. I just didn’t imagine it might happen so quickly.”
Mae’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
The pressure in Angie’s chest returned, radiating toward her shoulders. Keep it together, Angie. Popping her wings inside the cab would probably make Mae crash. Swallowing down her instincts, Angie said, “I’m a hybrid. My whole family was part alien. That’s why Sten’s watched over us for so long.”
A shaky breath escaped Mae, and she shook her head. “Girl, I always knew there was something special about you.”
“You mean weird?” Angie couldn’t help smiling.
“That, too. But really, who else do you know that can pull blackberry brambles with their bare hands?”
Angie thought about how many times people had commented on her lack of garden gloves. “You’re right. I never thought about it before.”
“I think you’re the only person in town who hasn’t come into the clinic for one reason or another.” Mae took the turn onto I-15. “By the way, I still don’t know where we’re going.”
Glancing into the pickup bed, Angie met Sten’s gaze and tried to smile. “Pull off at the next exit and let’s find a back road where Sten can get out without attracting notice.”
Mae looked Angie over. “What’s with the bathrobe, anyway?”
“The sheriff arrested me this way.”
“Seriously? What the hell? I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Fucking sheriff.” Mae shook her head and took the exit toward a no-name small town.