Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,44
as they walked along the sidewalk, kids playing and laughing, a bouncing basketball, barking dogs. But no one had heard her. It was like she’d ceased to exist, like she’d become a ghost.
She growled, smacked her knuckles against the headboard, and immediately regretted it. She winced. The pain was sharp and radiating but slowly mellowed to a dull throb.
It was no worse than the pain she felt at her wrists, which also happened to be her own fault for fighting her restraints for so long. While she was still, her bindings were as flexible as silk ribbons, snug but not painful. Yet when she tugged against them, they became hard and firm, more like bands of steel—and the degree of that change seemed proportionate to the strength of her struggle.
There was nothing for her to do but sit there and stew.
Zevris’s room didn’t offer much in the way of scenery, and she was annoyed that she found that a little disappointing. The queen bed was draped with a plain blue comforter, the pillowcases were a mixture of white and blue, all tied together by the oak slatted headboard and a matching nightstand beside the bed, the latter of which had a small lamp set atop it. Even the dresser had the same oak finish. The walls were white, the carpet beige. There was a large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall, apparently hiding a secret compartment full of all sorts of alien devices that she didn’t want anything to do with.
The decorations were minimal—a trio of smooth glass balls in varying shades of blue sitting atop a small granite slab on the dresser and two paintings on the walls, both of which were the sort of generic, almost abstract still-life paintings that could be found in the wall décor sections of most department or thrift stores.
His bedroom was neat and clean, but in a way that screamed model home.
Which made sense, really, considering he wasn’t human. Of course he would’ve decorated based on some idealized version of the modern American home. But after a few minutes, it was boring to look at.
Couldn’t he have at least turned on the TV or something?
With a sigh, she lay down and stared up at the textured white ceiling. Volatile emotions swirled within her, making her chest and throat tight.
I am not going to cry. Nope. It’s not going to happen.
Except those damn tears escaped the corners of her eyes, anyway, and slid down her temples to dampen her hair.
She blinked rapidly to clear her vision.
Damn it, why’d it have to be Logan?
No, not Logan. Zevris. An alien.
Tabitha had never imagined a scenario in which she’d be taken against her will and tied to a bed, much less by an alien. Aliens weren’t supposed to exist!
At least…at least he’d promised not to hurt her.
She snorted. “No, he just wants a womb to fill with his baby batter.”
But even as the words passed her lips, she knew they weren’t wholly true.
I want you, Tabitha. I crave to know your touch, thirst for your taste, and yearn to make you mine. I have chosen you to be my lifemate, and it is my mission to make it so.
She couldn’t deny the spark of surprise, hopefulness, and, strongest of all, desire his words had kindled within her. Zevris had chosen her—her—out of hundreds, thousands, millions of other women, many of whom were thin and pretty. Many of whom would’ve looked like the perfect partner standing next to him.
Because Zevris was gorgeous. How could he really want someone who looked like her, someone who’d made such a mess of everything?
He’d wanted to court her.
He said I was beautiful…
If only she’d been adult enough to have walked to his front door, if only she’d been brave enough to have just told him what Dexter had done and apologized for it, none of this would have happened.
But it would have eventually. Well, not exactly like this, but it would not have changed the fact that Zevris was an alien. An incredibly, mouth-wateringly, heart-throbbingly hot alien. She’d just found it out earlier than he’d intended.
Tabitha closed her eyes and groaned. She’d been reading romance books since she was a teenager, hundreds and hundreds of them, and some of her more recent favorites had involved alien abduction tropes. Like many women, she’d place herself in the role of the heroines. She’d fantasized about those heroes, about those males so obsessed with their female that they’d obtain her by whatever means necessary whether