Excerpt: Taken Unaware by Summer Devon

“No aliens in the headlines.” Clutching the newspaper and her coffee mug, Leah settled on the sofa next to the cat, Fluke, that ignored her.

She’d already performed her new ritual of checking reliable Internet news sites. Now she shook open the paper and began a search inside. Two weeks later, and still not a word about the rumors she’d heard at the bar. Good. Maybe the two soldiers from the base were just trying to scare her with their stories. The Dar targeting a town in Wisconsin? They’d be smarter to aim for Florida this time of year.

“How about it? You think there’s a cover up?” she asked Fluke. “Time to stock up on milk and toilet paper? Maybe hide in the basement?”

Every few years, tabloids screamed They’re Back! Even those covers with the blurry pictures were enough to send some people rushing for their rifles.

Leah abandoned the search for stories about space invasions and conspiracy theories and turned to the comics. Sipping her coffee, she decided not to move for at least two hours. Pure, lovely laziness in her favorite room.

As if he could read her mind, Fluke stood and shook himself. He batted at her arm with an imperious paw.

She frowned at him over the top of the paper. “Learn to use the box, dammit.”

He jumped from the couch and strolled to the kitchen, meowing the whole way. Leah put down her paper and coffee and followed him.

She opened the door and nudged his backside with her foot. “I’ve ordered a boring birthday, Fluke. I don’t need a present from you so don’t bring me any mice. The last one just about gave me a heart attack.”

He sauntered out into the bright morning air and within a minute discovered something more heart-pounding than a mouse.

One of the massive trucks rumbled up the road. Hide.

Halbrut dived behind the bushes next to the small yellow house.

As the roar of the truck died away, someone in the house opened a door, and almost immediately an animal came trotting over to his hiding place.

A cat.

It stopped dead when it spotted him. The creature’s back humped up and it inched sideways, muttering and then hissing.

Halbrut hunkered lower when he heard footsteps.

“What’ve you got? Not another skunk, Fluke, please, no.” The woman’s voice was too near.
A second later her face appeared over him. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh my Go—” the woman shrieked.

By then he was out of the bushes and on her.

“Hush, please,” Halbrut urged as he grabbed her and covered her mouth. The neighbors wouldn’t see but perhaps they’d hear her. He pinned her back against his chest.

The cat hissed again.

He paused, and with his hand clamped over her face, his other arm wrapped around her arms and slender middle, he couldn’t help remarking, “That’s a strange thing the cat’s do—Ouch.” The woman had stamped down hard on his foot. The boots he’d been issued protected him, but he was startled. Not enough to let go of her.

Any moment the big vehicle would cruise by again, looking for him and the others from his group, no doubt. He wasn’t going to stick around and flag it down.

The door to the yellow house lay wide open so he dragged the struggling woman inside. “Listen,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her through the door, slamming his elbow on the doorjamb. “I’m sorry you’re scared. But I can’t let you scream, right? I’m, ah, waiting for friends.”

The cat skittered past his legs into the house again.

The woman’s mouth moved against his hand and her warm tongue thrust against the chilled skin of his palm. His body’s response disgusted him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

An enraged muffled snort emerged from her. After he slammed the door shut he removed his hand from her face—though he kept a firm grip on her arm to keep her from running off.

She didn’t scream, thank goodness. For a moment she glared at him, breathing hard. Her brow furrowed. “You’re full of bullshit.” Her voice shook but she managed to project an air of anger rather than fear. “What do you mean you’re waiting for friends? Behind my bushes?” With a twist she tried to yank her arm from his grip. Not even close to successful. He’d inherited his sire’s strength.

He motioned at a chair at the small kitchen table. “If I let go of you, will you just sit down? And allow me to explain.”

Still staring at him as if she wished she could kill him with her eyes, she dropped down onto the wooden chair.

He didn’t want to sit. Exhaustion might claim him. So instead he loomed over her, examining her angry face, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. Nothing came to him.

“Well?” She tilted her head and the sunlight through the window caught the high cheekbones, the deep red shades in her dark hair and her green eyes that didn’t contain a hint of familiar gold. Her hand scrubbed at her mouth as if trying to remove some disgusting substance he’d left there with his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said faintly.

“Like what?”

“I’m a raw piece of meat and you’re a wolf.”

He answered without thinking. “I am hungry.”

He’d suspected the phrase was a double entendre—and her shiver confirmed it. “What are you anyway? A Peeping Tom?” She sounded less belligerent now.

“A peeping what?”

She gave a noise that might have been a moan, low, deep and, to his ears, thoroughly arousing. Once again, he remembered he hadn’t had a female in a very long time.

But his simple question about the peeping something had changed her somehow. Now she meekly clasped her fingers together and rested them on the tabletop. Those fingers trembled.

“I guess you don’t have to tell me why you were hiding out front. I don’t need to know.” She spoke hesitantly as if she didn’t want to make him angry. That was probably for the best, having her fear him. That would be the right response, if she knew who he was. Or what he was.

He didn’t want her too terrified, so he sat in a chair near her. “I was actually playing a joke on my friend,” he lied.

She shook her head. And, surprisingly, she leaned close to him. Her heat warmed his chilled body and he could smell her musky, exotic human fragrance.

Just as he decided he liked the scent, she gave another of her odd growls. Her eyes opened wide. “You smell like it. Cinnamon.” Her fair skin went even paler. “God. You’re one of them. Oh. No, no,” she whispered. “But it’s true.”

She jumped up so quickly the chair fell with a thud.

She started for the door.

As she brushed him, Halbrut grabbed her again, pulling at her until she tumbled onto his lap. While he held her tight against him, his arms forming bands around her body, he made idiotic, soothing noises. “It’s fine, no, don’t struggle. It’s fine.” But she was clearly not convinced. She twisted on his lap and her feet flailed hard against his shins. Leaning sideways, she managed to pull her arm from his grasp. With her free hand she clawed at his cheek and the arm he put up to protect his face.

Suddenly her attack stopped. She lifted her hand again only to point at his wrist. Blood oozed from a scratch she’d made. “Red… You can’t be one of them.”

He’d heard strange fiction that the Dar had green ichor in their veins. He examined the blood on his arm and considered lying. He’d tell her that no, he had no connection to Dar, that he was a human vagrant passing through. He could leave with a goodbye and an apology that he’d frightened and inconvenienced her.

He let go of her. But instead of getting up, she shifted sideways on his lap. He didn’t object. Not at all. She hesitantly touched his dark hair and stared hard into his eyes. Her weight on his legs, their locked silent gaze, made him feel more alive than he had in a very long time.

When she breathed out, the soft warm air washed over his face. She gave a quiet whimper. “Jesus. You’ve got the ring of gold in your eyes.”

Ah. He should have pushed her away but he’d done it again. He’d hoped she stared into his eyes because she wanted him. That was twice he’d mistaken her actions. When she’d leaned close to catch his scent and now when their gaze locked. He wished there was some way to turn off his extreme response to her so he could think with his brain.

“What are you?” she whispered.

“I’m a, uh, mix.” He tried smiling which he’d understood was common and not vulgar.

She continued to search his face, as if looking for other signs. “Humans and the Dar make babies? That’s ridiculous.” But she sounded uncertain.

He said flatly, “That’s what I am. Dar and humans are the same species. Basically.”

“The Dar… You’re Dar.” She gave an almost imperceptible shudder—if she hadn’t been on his lap he wouldn’t have noticed.