Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,118

only imagine how tired and sore she’d truly been.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet Nykasha,” he rasped, sweeping his finger down to her chin.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave the bed. Everything was perfect while he was here holding her. All the troubles of the universe were far away and out of mind, all the dangers had been chased away, and the darkness was warm and sheltering rather than mysterious and threatening.

But he knew it was time. He’d known it all day—well, all yesterday—and had done his best to put that knowledge aside for as long as possible. There’d been no need to delay this, no need to avoid it, but he’d done so regardless. Perhaps it had been out of some notion that it would maintain this amazing situation between himself and Tabitha—the longer command had to wait for the news, the longer Zevris had with her undisturbed.

With even greater care than he’d exercised with his touch, he extracted himself from their mutual embrace. Several times, he paused, breath caught in his throat, as she made a little sigh or shifted infinitesimally, but in the end she did not wake. She simply curled the blanket around herself tighter and slept.

Zevris didn’t allow himself to linger, knowing he could easily have spent hours just watching her sleep. He swung his legs off the bed, stood up, dragged on a pair of boxers, and walked to the wall-mounted television.

He eased the television aside and opened the secret storage compartment. Just as he’d expected, the comm disc had that blue light glowing. Command was ready for his report. In a few hours, it would have been exactly thirty days since Khelvar had informed Zevris of his looming extraction.

Plucking up the disc, he closed the compartment and exited the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. Though the walk downstairs couldn’t have taken more than ten or fifteen seconds, the thoughts suddenly swirling through his mind made it feel like an eternity.

The uncertainty hanging over Zevris and Tabitha was more troubling than anything he’d ever faced. They both knew better than to bet everything on hopes and dreams, they both knew that life exceled at finding ways to be cruel and ruin plans. There were no guarantees.

Except that last sentiment no longer seemed correct. Even if nothing else in the universe was guaranteed, his love for Tabitha was. He knew that with a certainty he’d never believed possible. It was seared into is heart, his soul, his entire being.

But he could not be sure of his superiors’ plans. As far as he knew, he was the only faloran to have formed a mating bond with an alien female. This was historic, unprecedented. None of that had mattered to him, yet it was true all the same. Zevris and Tabitha were likely the first mixed-species couple in faloran history with a chance to produce offspring.

What did it mean for his people, for their society, their civilization? What did it mean for Zevris and Tabitha?

He walked into the living room and sat on the couch, placing the comm disc on the coffee table.

Dexter, who’d been lying in his dog bed near the back door, stood up and padded over to Zevris. The dog hopped onto the couch, curled up against Zevris’s legs, and rested his head on Zevris’s thighs.

Smiling, Zevris patted Dexter’s side and scratched between his ears. Dexter kept his head down, but his tail wagged happily. Zevris’s tail was in motion too, but its movements were erratic, jerky, and stiff, born of agitation rather than excitement.

This should have been an easy report to make, one in which he could pride himself. He’d made significant progress. Yet it was difficult to be anything but worried when he had no idea what Command’s next step would be.

Releasing a huff through his nostrils, Zevris combed his fingers through his hair, leaned forward, and activated the comm disc.

The ultricar’s holographic likeness appeared moments after the disc scanned Zevris’s identity.

“Zevris.” Khelvar’s eyes flicked up and down, and he said in Faloran, “You look exhausted.”

With a soft, amused snort, Zevris shook his head. “You look a bit worn out yourself, ultricar.”

“I’m older than you, althicar. That gives me an excuse to look like shit. What’s yours?”

This was almost too much like a pair of old friends catching up after a long time apart, and it didn’t make the situation any easier. Zevris considered Khelvar his closest friend—and in many ways, even a father figure—but that was not the