Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,34

corner of Broxen’s mouth tilted up. “And what’d I sound like?”

“Kiiiind of like a wolf. Like this.” She bared her teeth, scrunched her nose, and let loose a rolling growl from the back of her throat. Her expression was made more adorable by the gaps where her mini, human fangs should’ve been.

Broxen laughed and shook his head. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Yeah, you do,” she replied, brows falling low. “Just, you know, deeper and quieter.”

Amusing as this was, he couldn’t ignore the implication of her being there—he’d lost his edge. In the past, he never would’ve slept deeply enough for anyone, especially this little girl, to get so close to him without waking. He never would’ve been caught off guard. He needed to do better now that he had these females under his protection.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was one of those circular clocks with arms, leftover from the previous owners of the house, and he’d seen no reason to take it down—but he still wasn’t accustomed to using it. His lips moved as he soundlessly counted off the tick marks between the numbers. Seven sixteen. That explained the faint gray light outside that was struggling to penetrate the blinds.

Were it a school day—and were things normal—Broxen would’ve been waiting at that window now to get a glimpse of Gabriela as she went out to start her car.

“Where is your mother, Ana?”

“She’s still sleeping.”

My mate is in my bed.

A growl built deep in his chest at that reminder, but he held it back. Instead, he cleared his throat, looking down at Ana. “You hungry?”

She sagged. “Starving.”

He chuckled, flattened his hands on his knees, and pushed himself up. “I’m sure you are. Give me a minute and we’ll get some breakfast going.”

Ana stood up and tilted her head back to keep her eyes on him. “Can I help?”

“Can you make toast without burning it?”

Ana gave him a flat look. “I’m nine and a half. I know how to use the toaster.”

Broxen lifted his hands, displaying his palms in surrender. “My mistake. I shouldn’t doubt your toasting skills. I’ll be back.”

“You sound like the robot in that movie when you say that,” she said with a smirk.

“What robot in what movie?”

“The Terminator. It’s a very grown-up movie, and I’ve seen it. Mom let me watch it. It’s one of her favorite movies. I love it, too.”

Broxen walked toward the guest bathroom in the hallway. “Oh? Guess I’ll have to watch it sometime.”

“I should warn you. It has kissing.”

He paused as he opened the bathroom door and looked back at Ana, lifting his brows high and widening his eyes. “But it’s still a good movie?”

“It’s awesome!”

Smiling, he stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and closed the door. He unwound his tail, letting it flow freely behind him. This was likely the last time he could have it out until tonight. After emptying his bladder, he washed his hands and glanced at himself in the mirror.

His hair was a tangled mess. Not unusual for having just woken, but with his mate in the house, he couldn’t leave it like that. He ran his claws through it quickly, tugging it all back and working out the knots. The result was still a bit unruly, but it was decidedly better than how it had started.

He would’ve preferred to brush both his hair and his teeth, but his toiletries were in his bathroom, and he dared not disturb Gabriela. If anyone needed rest, it was her.

Broxen washed his face with cool water before seeing to his tail, tucking it into his sweatpants and coiling it around his leg. Though the position was never comfortable, it was necessary, and he’d grown accustomed to having to do it all the time.

Someday I won’t have to hide it. When she knows what I am. When she accepts it—when she accepts me.

For now, he needed to prepare food and feed his humans.

He rejoined Ana, who was more than eager to follow him into the kitchen and get to work on breakfast, practically skipping along behind him.

“Hand first,” Broxen said as he took the first aid kit down off the fridge and set it on the counter. “How is it?”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” Ana replied.

Broxen crouched before her, holding one of his hands out to her, palm up. She placed her bandaged hand atop his, and he delicately peeled away the bandages. When her hand was exposed, he lifted