Saved by the Alien Crime Boss (Aliens Among Us #4)

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Something is wrong.

Sevik squeezed the steering wheel and clenched his jaw.

Nothing was wrong. He was fine, he was calm, he was in control.

Yet each beat of his heart came quicker than the last, and the restlessness coursing through his limbs grew stronger as the distance between him and The Bookish Bean increased.

As the distance between him and Mina increased.

Enough of this. Enough!

But that sense of wrongness only intensified. He shifted his weight on the seat and eased his grip, hardly noticing that he immediately began drumming his fingers on the wheel.

His chest fluttered, brimming with anticipation, as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

In the reflection, he saw only a snowy, forested road, cloaked in the shadows created by the still-rising sun.

That fluttering became a heaviness that sank into his gut, pooling there—cold, dense, and unsettling.

“ Leskahn tor lesk , what did I expect?”

Expectation was one thing, desire another. He’d wanted to see The Bookish Bean behind him, with Mina out front, smiling and waving. But she was long behind him.

Sevik’s heartbeat only continued to quicken. It echoed through his body, steadily gaining volume and force.

He pressed down on the accelerator pedal. The truck roared and lurched forward, carrying him toward his residence that much faster.

Leaving the café—leaving Mina—had been a test of his willpower, but he’d met the challenge. He’d walked out of his own accord not long after choking down the last of the drink she’d given him. The cloying taste of the coffee still clung to his tongue, fouling his every inhalation.

He’d chosen to leave. So why this reaction?

Sevik had dealt with danger throughout his life, had looked his own potential death in the eyes more times than he could count, and had faced the deepest betrayal and loss, all without flinching.

Why was leaving Mina causing this escalating physical response in him when nothing else had? All the nervousness and anxiety he’d never felt was piling atop him now, burying him.

You have a lifetime of pain behind you, Sevik. And now that you’re stuck here with nothing else to do, it’s all catching up to you…

No. He refused to believe that, just as he refused to believe this was merely the result of being separated from Mina. He hadn’t imprinted on her, and though she was more tempting than any female he’d ever encountered, this reaction wasn’t natural. This was entirely unlike Sevik.

As he turned onto the long driveway leading to his cabin, his mind raced with theories, each more outlandish than the last—and all interspersed with intrusive thoughts of Mina.

Was Earth’s atmosphere adversely affecting him?

Why now, after he’d been here for so long?

Would Mina tremble as he undressed her? Would her eyes smolder with lust?

Was another nonhuman being hacking into his neural transceiver, disrupting his mind?

But his holoshroud remained active, and the interface had remained hidden all morning. Plus, given the nature of his particular implant, someone would have had to get pretty damned close to even attempt accessing it.

Would the sounds of Mina’s pleasure be as enthralling as her laughter?

Would her moans be light and airy, or would they be breathy, husky, primal?

Was his body revolting after a year with no sexual release?

That seemed more likely than the rest, but some part of him recognized it as untrue. No, this was something more recent, something he was overlooking…

He pulled in under the carport, turned off the truck, and reached for the romance book lying on the passenger seat. His hand shook in the air.

He felt like a fucking inexperienced youngling on the comedown after the adrenaline rush of his first brawl.

Sevik snatched up the book and exited the truck, pausing on his way to the cabin’s entrance when the coffee flavor struck him anew. Wincing, he muttered a curse, turned his head, and spat into the snow.

Sevik froze, brow furrowing.

From what he’d seen, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that some humans drank their own body weight in coffee every week. He’d thought it a cultural tradition, a morning ritual, but there was another bit of information rattling around in his mind, drifting amidst the things he’d learned about these alien people and their world during his time here…

Caffeine .

That was why they drank that bitter sludge. Caffeine woke them up, got their minds moving, chased away the grogginess of sleep.

And like any other drug, there was no telling how caffeine would affect nonhumans.

No telling how it would affect a korasi.

Sevik held up his free hand, palm down. Tremors coursed through it and along his arm as though it were overloaded with energy that had no outlet.

“The fucking coffee,” he growled.

He stomped into the cabin, tore off his boots and coat in the laundry room, and stormed into the kitchen.

“Had to drink it all, didn’t you?”

Asking himself that question out loud only fueled his anger; he already knew the answer.

Yes. Every fucking drop.

Gritting his teeth, he moved to the living room, sat on the couch, and opened the book. His eyes roved over the page. But the words seemed skittery, evading his understanding like vermin fleeing a beam of light.

Heat coursed both under his skin and over its surface. The fireplace was dark, but the cabin was almost unbearably hot.

Mina had said this book was one of her favorites. What else did she enjoy? Did she have favorite music, a favorite food, drink, or color?

He forced his attention back to the top of the page and tried to read again.

What was her favorite scene in this book?

Images again flashed through his imagination—Mina in place of the book’s female character, being undressed by Sevik’s hands, being pleasured by his mouth and tongue, his fingers, his cocks.

With a frustrated grunt, he snapped the book shut and tipped his head back onto the couch’s rear cushion. It was only then that he realized he’d been bouncing his leg incessantly since he’d sat down.

Shouldn’t have gone there today.

And yet he couldn’t find any regret for having done so. Not even a sliver.

Their encounter today replayed in his mind’s eye, over and over, and a smile crept onto his face. Mina was his opposite in so many ways. Even had she lived on Vabos, their paths never would’ve crossed due to his old life. She was that rare sort—honest and innocent.

Without someone to look out for her, someone to protect her, Sevik’s homeworld would’ve devoured Mina. Alone…she would’ve had to sacrifice all of who and what she was to survive.

Sevik bared his teeth and growled, irritated by his own dismissal of her strength and perseverance. That steel at her core was part of what drew him to her; how could he have forgotten it?

It’s not like she’s unfamiliar with hardship. She’s suffered. She’s struggled.

Giving in to his body’s need to move, he shoved himself up off the couch and walked to the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth and tongue, finally ridding himself of the coffee flavor, and then set about cleaning the bathroom. Seeking relief from the stifling heat, he tore off his shirt and tossed it aside. Once done, he moved on to the rest of the cabin, scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, and wiping everything down. Before long, he’d also removed his pants, socks, and underwear.

Even naked, sweat beaded on his skin, and he was only more aware of the heat.

And all the while, Mina dominated his thoughts.

His body moved of its own accord, still jittery, still off, desperate for relief from the unending restlessness. More than once, he had to press a hand firmly over his slit to keep his throbbing cocks from emerging as his thoughts turned to rutting Mina.

That ache low in his belly grew deeper and stronger each time.

The day wore on that way, sometimes dragging, sometimes blazing past. He paced throughout the cabin, convinced he’d soon wear the rugs down to threads or erode grooves in the hardwood floor.

He knew there were other things to occupy him, other topics to consider, but he could not turn his thoughts away from Mina. A few times, he felt compelled to grab his keys and drive back to town. Fortunately, he convinced himself not to do so for a multitude of reasons—not the least of which being that he was still wholly unclothed.

No task could hold his interest for long before he moved on. When snow began to fall late in the afternoon, part of him envied the big, slow-falling flakes, which seemed completely unbothered by anything.

What did Mina think of snow? Based on what he’d seen, humans weren’t particularly tolerant of the cold, insulating themselves against it with heavy coats, hats, and gloves. She seemed especially sensitive to it. Did that mean she hated the cold, hated the snow, or could she find beauty and wonder in it?

Sevik had never seen it before coming to Earth. Vabos’s urban centers were highly industrialized, and though there was seasonal cold, it was never cold enough to produce ice and snow. But the korasi came from a world where both had been prevalent. He’d always enjoyed the cold. It was in his blood, an ancestral tie to his people that hadn’t been taken away by circumstance.

In an odd way, that made this place—a remote lake in the mountains on a remote planet—feel more like home than Vabos ever had.

He watched the snow fall from the living room, walking back and forth along the windows like a beast trapped in a zoo display. Once he couldn’t bear watching any longer, he pulled on his pants and stepped out the back door to shovel snow off the deck.

Snowflakes lighted upon him and melted, and the droplets ran down his bare flesh, sharpening the bite of the cold. Yet though the chill was refreshing against his heated skin, it couldn’t cool the fires raging inside him.

Thanks to the fresh layer of snow blanketing the land, it was even quieter outside the cabin than it had been within, making Sevik’s thoughts louder in comparison.

He continued working as the gray sky darkened, plowing a path around the side of the cabin, knocking icicles from the eaves, and clearing snow from the driveway.

Despite the cold, he was only sweating more when he was done. Tremors still coursed through him, his heart still beat too fast, and he was still overly warm. The ache behind his slit was constant now, flaring and fading in rolling waves but never going away.

By then, the sun had been down for some time, and the frozen lake was like a mirror beneath the night sky, striated with veinlike snowdrifts created by the wind.

Sevik scanned the shoreline. There were only a few other residences around the lake—of which only two were occupied—and they were out of sight of his cabin.

He allowed himself no time for further consideration. Tugging off his pants, he tossed them onto the floor mat just inside the back door before walking down to the water’s edge.

The ice groaned beneath his feet as he stepped onto it. He knelt, closed his fist, and hammered at the surface until it cracked and broke away. With hands and claws, he expanded the hole so it was more than wide enough for him to fit through.

Sevik dove in.

The frigid jolt awoke his every nerve, making his skin hypersensitive.

Zekt’al , what he wouldn’t give to have Mina’s lithe little hands running over him right now. What he wouldn’t give to have her warmth contrasting the cold, to have her soft, smooth skin caressing his, to feel every tiny movement, every faint brush, every wicked stroke.

His cocks pushed against his slit, parting it. The chill of the water only increased the uncomfortable pressure in his shafts, only heightened his need for friction, for release.

He ignored them for a long while, focusing on the water and the motions of his body as he swam, surfacing when he needed air and ensuring his opening didn’t freeze back over. He had no idea how long he stayed in the lake. Much longer than it would’ve taken for a human to be killed by the cold, most likely.

But not nearly long enough to freeze that inner heat.

Only when his muscles burned with exertion did he pull himself out of the water. His ragged breaths emerged in clouds of steam as he trudged back to the cabin.

“Should’ve set out a fucking towel,” he muttered before entering through the back door. Even with his body radiating heat, the moisture on his skin had begun to frost.

He walked to the bathroom and showered, again finding himself battling the primal urge for release as he imagined Mina in the stall with him. He imagined her naked form, lathered with soap, pictured their hands upon each other’s bodies, cleaning, teasing, soothing, pleasuring…

The water very quickly became too hot for him. He finished washing himself, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist—primarily so he didn’t have to see his cocks poking out through his slit.

Sevik mopped up the water he’d trailed from the back door with another towel, collected his discarded clothing, and tossed it in the washing machine.

Without bothering to get dressed, he went into the kitchen to cook a couple steaks. Despite the long swim, he couldn’t stand still; his legs demanded movement, his fingers tapped and fidgeted, and his tongue swept back and forth over the points of his fangs.

He grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the faucet. “Never fucking drinking coffee again.”

Tossing his head back, he drank quickly and deeply.

And if Mina were to offer me more?

He slammed the empty glass down hard enough to nearly shatter it. “ Fuck .”

If she were to offer him more coffee, he’d drink every drop—but he would ensure she was there with him, so he could use her delectable little body to rut this energy out of himself. Consequences be damned.

Sevik devoured the steaks and guzzled more water, hoping it would leave him less time to think. Less time to dwell on Mina.

That night was a restless one. He spent most of it tossing and turning in his bed, kicking off the covers, dragging them back on, turning from his back to his side to his front until he scarcely knew which was which. Every time he found a comfortable position, some part of his body would soon protest—a twitch of his leg, an involuntary jerk of his hand, a twinge in his back or a kink in his neck. Comfort became an impossible to obtain dream.

Not that any dreams were fucking possible, since sleep refused to take him.

Whenever Sevik closed his eyes, he saw her. Whenever he inhaled, he smelled her. Her scent lingered on his bedding, which he’d refused to wash after she’d slept here.

When he glanced at the clock, it read 5:47 AM.

Sevik groaned and turned onto his stomach, burying his face against his pillow.

His next inhalation was more laden with Mina’s scent than any since he’d entered his bed, and his memory was more than happy to fill in what was missing—the allure of her arousal.

She’d wanted him. The proof had perfumed the air of her café the other evening. Had he chosen to pursue her then, they’d have rutted. He’d have filled his nose with that sweet, sensual scent, would’ve lapped up her essence with his tongue, would’ve worn it on his cocks.

And so many of his questions about Mina, those wonderings to which his imagination could not do justice, would’ve been answered.

He would’ve learned the expressions and noises she made in the throes of passion. Would’ve learned all the places to touch, kiss, and lick to make her cry out in pleasure. Would’ve known the tight grip of her cunt, the softness of her flesh in his firm grasp as he drove into her again and again…

Sevik lifted his hips from the bed, slid a hand down his abdomen, and pressed his splayed fingers over his slit, parting it. His cocks emerged readily, one gliding between his thumb and forefinger, the other between his forefinger and middle finger.

He curled his fingers around the oil-coated shafts and pumped his fist.

A shudder racked Sevik. He turned his cheek onto the pillow and let out a harsh groan as he moved his hand again. Pleasure swept through him with each slide, making his hips buck and his breath hitch.

Behind his eyelids, he saw Mina. Mina in his bed, clad only in her undergarments, just as she’d been when he’d brought her here. Mina looking at him with that spark in her brown eyes, that hint of fire, that lustful ember. Mina with that warm smile turned sultry.

Mina with her hand on his cocks, squeezing just right as she pumped up and down.

“Ah, val’syra ,” he rasped, tightening his grip and quickening his strokes.

He wanted to run his fingers through those short, dark curls. Wanted those full, pink lips against his. He wanted not just her scent to fill his lungs, but her breath, her essence. Wanted that body tucked against him, moving, pulsing, grinding.

That inner pressure built, deepening to pleasure-laced pain, to delicious agony. It echoed throughout his body, consuming him.

In his mind’s eye, he dragged Mina close, pushed her face down on the bed, and climbed atop her. He pictured a flick of his claws tearing away her underwear, baring her dripping cunt to him.

The smell of her arousal flowed from his memory, flooding his brain. He saw himself draw back his hips and drive into her waiting heat.

Sevik’s free hand closed on the bedding, claws ripping the sheet and digging into the mattress beneath. He spread his knees for support and gyrated his hips, making his strokes harder, faster, deeper, trying to match the speed of his racing heart.

A strained growl tore from his throat as his cocks thickened, jerked, and spurted thick ropes of seed. His mind went black against the burst of pleasure.

Sevik’s hips bucked wildly, driving his hand and his shafts down onto the bed. He kept them moving along with his fist, using the added friction to coax everything out of himself.

When his motions finally slowed to a stop, the bedding and his hand, belly, and thighs were sticky with seed, and the ache had moved down into his bones, pulsing from his core.

Forcing his body to relax, he breathed deep and slow, ignoring the burning in his lungs. He squeezed his throbbing cocks to combat the lingering pressure.

“ Vazk .”

He’d never come so much in his fucking life.

And it still wasn’t enough. Were Mina here now, he’d rut her—again, and again, and again. This had only slightly eased his craving. What he wanted, what he needed, he would never get from his hand.

He needed his female. His mate. Mina.

Sevik had always been practical. He knew he couldn’t resist for long, knew he’d succumb soon. When that happened, when he inevitably crumbled…

Well, he’d figure out what the fuck to do when the time came.

He chuckled at the thought, though he shouldn’t have found humor in it.

I should clean up…

Sevik scowled. He was loath to wash her scent from his bedding, and he would mourn its loss.

With no small difficulty, he pushed himself up on shaky arms. His legs were unsteady as he slipped off the bed and onto his feet. Of course, now that he had to clean up, he was exhausted.

After pulling off the soiled bedding, he walked downstairs, leaning on the banister to steady himself. The walk to the washing machine felt like the longest of his life. Once it was running, he made the equally taxing trek to the bathroom.

Somehow, Sevik stayed on his feet as he washed himself off in the shower. His body was heavy now, sluggish, spent. He barely kept himself from falling over as he dried off and exited the bathroom.

But he didn’t make it to the stairs. As he collapsed onto the couch, he couldn’t recall if he’d fallen there accidentally or if he’d chosen to do so—not that it made any difference.

Sleep seized him before he could even try to rise, and he gladly sank into that abyss, where his thoughts of Mina would meet no resistance from his conscious mind.