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Authors: Robin L. Rotham

BOOK: Alien Overnight
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But remembering her enthusiasm for all things Garathani, he could only hope that she would one day accept him and Shauss with the same enthusiasm. That she would have to forgive them first for mating with her prior to her acceptance was a foregone conclusion. She was as intractable as a drunken crunite miner, and despite her diminutive size, no doubt twice as dangerous. It might take years of sleeping with his dagger beneath his pillow before she finally gave herself to him and Shauss without reservation.

Of course, it would be in everyone’s best interests for him to persuade her to accept their attentions in advance, though he didn’t hold out much hope of that happening. He could try charming her when he returned to the infirmary in the morning…

With a sigh, Kellen conceded that wasn’t a promising plan. He hadn’t tried to charm anyone in recent memory, certainly not any Terrans. It hadn’t taken much exposure to their arts and entertainments to convince him that their idea of charm differed vastly from his, and now that he thought about it, his little ex-Terran seemed less susceptible to charming than most.

Then there was the fact that he was not her favorite Garathani at the moment.

Perhaps he should let Shauss try his luck with her.

*

“The little Sparnite witch tried to gut me!”

Shauss swore viciously as Ketrok painted the ragged edges of his belly wound with regeneration gel and pressed the accelerator to it. “And with my own dagger, no less!”

“What precipitated her attack?” Kellen demanded.

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Alien Overnight

“Only the Powers know,” Shauss replied. “I’d barely sat down and expressed my pleasure in her recovery when she struck.”

“Has she been confined?”

“Yes, Commander,” the doctor replied without looking up from his ministrations.

“She was too weak to put up much of a fight after her initial assault.”

Although Shauss’ discomfort eased almost immediately, Kellen’s did not. He paced the surgical bay, brimming with fury, and not just at the homicidal little doctor. Hadn’t it crossed his mind that she might resort to violence? He should have cautioned Shauss more strongly.

“Calm yourself, Commander,” Shauss said with a rueful grin. “That was a lesson I needed to learn for myself. I’ll never be caught off guard again.”

“Nor will I,” Kellen assured him, still frowning ferociously. “But her actions cannot go undisciplined.”

“On that we agree, my friend. Did you have something in mind?”

“Several things,” he said with a nasty smile. “But most of them wouldn’t be appropriate for a convalescent, not matter how feisty she’s feeling.” Ketrok’s ferocious frown widened Kellen’s smile. “No, Doctor, as tempting as it is, I won’t spank her. Or fuck her,” he added. “Though she deserves both, and more.”

“I’d fuck her,” Shauss said darkly, “
while
I spanked her. If she’s fit enough to skewer me, she’s fit enough to be skewered herself. Ow! Not so hard!”

Ketrok eased the accelerator back slightly, but kept his scowl firmly in place. “Until I declare her fit, keep your penises in your pants and your hands to yourselves or I’ll see you both before the Council.”

“Killjoy,” Shauss muttered. Then his grin reappeared. “Actually, if our little GaraTer had so shamed any warrior but me, I’d be more inclined to reward her show of courage.”

“Don’t tell her that.” Kellen rolled his eyes. “She’s going to be difficult enough to master as it is.”

Shauss opened his mouth, obviously prepared to assert otherwise, then closed it again with a look of chagrin. And rightly so, as he was the one whose body would bear the scar of her intransigence.

“No,” Kellen said. “She’s made up her mind to fight us, and it’s up to us to make her reconsider her position.”

*

God, what had she done?

One minute she was losing the fight to keep Shauss from prying his blade, still dripping with his own blood, from her nerveless fingers, and the next she was 51

Robin L. Rotham

surrounded by this breathtaking blankness. It was like someone had pressed the mute button on the TV, only it wasn’t just sound that was blocked.

White noise. That was the only way to describe what she was seeing and hearing.

In that first instant, she’d wondered if she was about to pass out. Before Kellen’s little shocker, she’d only come close to fainting once in her life. It had happened at the end of a taxing double shift at the hospital and she’d heard that same hissing sound and thought it was one of the unused oxygen valves leaking, until the edges of her vision started to darken. But her vision was fine now—she could see her legs, crossed tailor-fashion under the blood-spattered covers, and her hands in her lap, wringing the edge of the blanket. Yet the noise and the whiteness persisted and it was as if the world had been reduced to her body and this bed. She reached out to the side with her fingers, stained with Shauss’ blood and shaking like nobody’s business, then jerked them back when she encountered a barrier that sent fierce tingles up her arm.

Her fingers… Monica stared at that hand, front and back, like she’d never seen it before. And maybe she hadn’t. It didn’t look like her hand. The nails were long and sturdy, and the fingers seemed even longer and certainly bonier than before. For God’s sake, they looked like talons!

What had she done? Monica wondered again, fear curdling in her belly. She drew up her knees, wrapped her arms around them, heedless of the blood, and rocked. She’d just tried to kill Lieutenant Shauss, had grabbed the wicked-looking dagger from his belt and buried it to the hilt in his gut. And why?

Because she’d smelled the spice of his Garathani pheromones.

After the commander had left her the previous evening, she’d lain on her bed, the very bed that was now the only object left in her world, and tried to digest all that he’d revealed. Their parting shots had chased round and round in her thoughts.

Fuck you
,
Commander
.

Believe me
,
you will
.
Just as soon as you

re declared fit
.

Commander Kellen intended to mate with her. There was no other way to take his reply, and the very idea of it boggled her mind—and scared the living shit out of her.

He was an alien. He was over seven feet tall. He was larger than life in places she didn’t care to think about and would only get larger.

And she herself was…what? Did she even know what she was anymore? All her life she’d been different, set apart from the world by a deformed and undeveloped body. Now, instead of flowering gently into womanhood, as she’d always dreamed, she’d burst violently, almost overnight, into…

Pain. Terror. Confusion.

Alienhood?

Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t feel like womanhood. Her body might have undergone some sort of freaky maturation process, but the rest of her had yet to catch up and it was hard to imagine that her deformities could have magically disappeared.

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Alien Overnight

Although these days, nothing seemed quite as impossible as it used to. She’d checked the impulse to feel around down there—the temptation was strong, but her awareness of possible unseen observers was stronger.

If the commander didn’t realize that she’d been born with congenital defects, he might be in for a nasty surprise when he reached between her legs. And if her body had somehow miraculously transformed itself into a more acceptable form, she could be in for a nastier surprise. Because although she was well-versed in the mechanics of sex, she had no firsthand experience of it. None. She’d never even been kissed, for God’s sake!

She’d tossed under her blanket for hours, agonizing over the possible scenarios she faced. Then Shauss had stepped into the infirmary first thing this morning, and she’d seen his possessive look, the not-so-subtle anticipation in his gaze, and that’s when it had hit her like a boot to the head that necessity, along with Garathani law, required all males to share their mates. Possibly with more than one partner, depending on their rank and circumstances.

Shauss intended to mate with her, too.

A whimper sounded deep in her throat, muffled by the strange field that separated her from reality. It was the lightning realization of what these two mountains of alien flesh planned to do to her, coupled with the insidious aroma of Shauss’ pheromones, that had triggered her ill-advised attack. Monica shuddered at the memory of Ensign Hastion plowing into Carrie Ray from behind, reaming her vagina and anus simultaneously, and a tear streaked down her cheek. That couldn’t happen to her. She would die before she’d become the impersonal receptacle for their lust, their desire for children.

On some level, she was aware of the irrational and absurdly hypocritical nature of her reaction. She’d been more than happy to plan this very fate for hundreds, hopefully even thousands of other women, to accompany them across the galaxy while they eased the needs of these mighty beings, and to monitor and nurture them while they carried their alien babies. It had seemed like a calling then, like the true reason for her existence had finally been revealed.

Now it seemed like some monstrous plot to…

Hysteria edged her laugh at the idea someone might plot to get her into bed. Her!

Monica Teague, the original oddball. Like the commander could have planned her love of the stars or her strange fixation on his name. Like he could have arranged, somehow, for her neighbors to be transferred overseas, giving her their cute little border collie named Kellen. And her first major crush on Aidan Kellen, her undergrad humanities professor, who’d inspired her to doodle
Mrs
.
Monica Kellen
in every notebook margin for two full semesters. And her house in Kellen Gardens.

Her house.

The thought of it crushed her chest, made a sob of longing erupt from her throat as her tears rained down, creating big wet circles on her knees.

53

Robin L. Rotham

*

“Do we have to do this now?”

The doubtful inquiry made Kellen sigh as he observed Monica’s abject misery from outside the field. She was still such a child…

“You know we do,” he said resolutely. “To put it off would only frighten her further.”

“She’s little more than a child.”

The echo of his own thoughts made Kellen’s gaze slide to Shauss.

“So you don’t want to mate with her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“She has no choice in this, Shauss, and we can’t let her imagine that she does.”

“I know!” Shauss bit out. “Sorry, Commander. I just didn’t expect to grow so fond of her so quickly.”

“Tell me, Shauss,” Kellen asked blandly, “is it her foul mouth or her handiness with a blade that’s endeared her to you so completely?”

The barely restrained rumble of Shauss’ laughter made the commander grin.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

54

Alien Overnight

Chapter Seven

“I take it you figured out who my second is.”

Kellen’s wry comment made Monica look up sharply. The world was back. Or at least the infirmary was back, along with the two objects of her fevered, if not downright hysterical, imaginings. Wariness kept her silent as she stared at them, leaning further into the wall, drawing her knees even closer.

They were out of uniform.

Their expressions said they were out of patience.

And they were out of their fucking minds if they thought they were going to have her now. Monica steeled her jaw, looking away. But not too far away.

“Do you know the meaning of the word discipline, Monica?”

She didn’t even blink, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, but her pulse skittered anxiously. She’d known she would be punished for harming the lieutenant, had been trying to brace herself for whatever was coming.

“Look at me when I address you, little one,” Kellen demanded softly.

Name, rank and serial number. Wasn’t that all prisoners of war were allowed to give up? But this supposedly wasn’t war and these men already knew all that about her, and more. Much more. So she simply ignored them, ignored
him
, even as that act of blatant defiance made her breath turn choppy. The man did have a history of charbroiling people who pissed him off.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kellen and Shauss draw up two contoured chairs beside her bed and settle themselves in them.

“I feel like I should have popcorn and a box of Milk Duds,” Shauss said in a conversational tone.

Annoyance raised her hackles, which admittedly was a step up from cowering in fear. The asshole was mocking her!

“Do you even know what popcorn and Milk Duds are, ET?” she sneered.

“Refreshments available for purchase at a show,” he answered promptly. “And frankly, you look like you’re about to put on quite a show.”

Kellen’s low chuckle was just as infuriating. “I doubt she intends to put on quite the show she’s going to.”

Unable to stand it, she let her angry gaze fly to his. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were nice!”

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Robin L. Rotham

Slouched low in his chair with his fingers laced across his belly, Kellen replied, “I can be very nice. But right now you require disciplining, as much for your own safety as for ours. Can you define discipline for me, Monica?”

She glared at him, heart thumping. “Look it up yourself.”

“Unnecessary. In your case, discipline will involve training you to submit to my authority without question.”

His subtle emphasis on the word
submit
robbed her of breath for a long minute, and she looked away again, dismayed to feel a fierce, dark tingle in her belly. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost swear it was…anticipation.

“Ha! Like that’ll ever happen.”

“Oh, but it will.”

Monica’s chest constricted at that quiet promise and it felt like every cell in her body was being sucked toward him. She tensed against his magnetic pull, furious that this new and improved body was just as weak and defective as the old one. She
would
not
desire such a controlling bastard.

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