Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us, #1)

by Tiffany Roberts

I need only complete this mission, and I am free. My service will be over, and I may find peace…

The phrase I want you to carry my offspring was not one that human females found endearing.

The first minutes of his initial face-to-face meeting with Kindra had consisted of her pressing her body against his, as though they were already a mated couple, while she held her phone high to capture a maddening number of still images of the two of them, repeatedly checking the results and trying new angles until she’d found one she was apparently satisfied with.

The only thing she’d said to him by the time they’d been seated at their table was, “You’re even hotter than in your pictures.”

I did u a favor goin out with u U selfish prick

All he needed to do was find a human female who he was drawn to enough to form a mating bond—and who was willing to enter that undying bond with him. A simple, straightforward objective.

Zevris had a feeling he was going to be on Earth for a long, long time.

Humans consider staring rude.

They complemented her golden hair and pink lips perfectly.

Damned fool is far too weak a term to describe me. Nearly destroying my cover twice in a single morning?

You are the one,

It’s worth it just to have met you.

As she washed her hands in the sink, Tabitha looked out the window that faced the house of her out-of-this-world, unbelievably sexy neighbor.

It wasn’t like she’d had a chance in hell with him to begin with.

Logan was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. He was tall, tan, and clearly well-built beneath his clothes. His dark hair was shaved on the sides and longer on top with a couple rogue strands dangling over his bright, piercing blue eyes to give him a rakish appeal. He had thick, arched brows, a long, narrow nose, and some dark stubble along his strong, square jaw. And those lips… Those full, sinfully sculpted lips were made for kissing. Or biting. She wanted to do both. Definitely both. But guys like him didn’t go for girls like her. They preferred women who’d choose a salad and the gym over those who’d grab a pint of ice cream and plop down on the couch with a blanket to binge watch a TV show.

Could always invite the neighbor over…

She recalled Logan’s eyes; they were so intensely, impossibly blue. They’d been focused on her so solidly that for an instant she’d almost made the mistake of thinking he couldn’t see anything else. It had been a moment out of one of the many romance books she loved to read. And it couldn’t have been anything but her imagination.

“It’s the same mailbox. And I am really good with my hands.”

“Are your videos about making soap?” he asked. “Um, yes. And candles, but mostly soap.” Why did he have to smell so damn good? He moved infinitesimally closer. “And you are in them?” “Well…yeah.” “Perhaps I should watch them.” Is he…is he flirting? No. No way. He…he’s just playing with me.

If her cheeks weren’t already red, they certainly became so in that moment. Tabitha lowered her gaze.

“I may not learn much about soapmaking in the process”—he raised a hand and hooked the pocket of her hoodie with one of his long fingers, pulling it toward him slightly—“but I would be lying if I said I would not enjoy watching you.”

Because he makes me feel things way too strongly, and I…I can’t get hurt again.

After almost a year of wondering what it meant, he finally understood one of the human phrases he’d heard so often. That ass, though.

As his eyes trailed down her legs and back up again, a firestorm ignited within him. He very nearly dropped a hand to his groin to squeeze his shaft, desperate to alleviate the pressure, to address his growing discomfort. Only his military discipline stopped him; he was on the street in daylight, and humans frowned upon such public displays.

I’ve many things to do today,...

He knew it was a leap in logic, but that lack of male scent could very well have meant Tabitha was without a mate, that she was unclaimed…that she was single. I will mark her.

He couldn’t risk his mission—his entire species—based on the small chance that Tabitha was single, that she was interested in him, that she was…that she could be, his mate.

He needed to be certain that she was unclaimed by another, that she was seeking a mate and not a fling like so many of the Earth females he’d met.

Because that approach has been so successful thus far, right?

So, SO sorry about yesterday. Please use this for boots and mailbox.

Not purely guilt. She has integrity. That’s what drove her to this.

The paper smelled of vanilla and lavender. It smelled like Tabitha.

The warrior in Zevris told him she was his to claim, told him to take her. To stride up to her, pull that luscious body against his while staring fire into her lovely green eyes, and slam his mouth over hers in a kiss. To tell her that she was his mate—that she was his. Yet even though he did not fully understand human courtship rituals, he knew that was certainly not their way. Tabitha was not a female to be forced into submission, but a female to be wooed.

If only the instructional videos humans called pornography weren’t so sorely lacking in terms of courtship. Every one he’d watched skipped almost immediately to mating and had no information on building a relationship.

Why do I continue with these thoughts as though she hasn’t already fled from me twice?

And yet she’d also shown signs of interest in him. She’d looked at him with heat in her eyes, with desire, and he’d scented her arousal when she was near. Even when she’d run, some primal aspect of Zevris had taken it as a challenge, as an invitation, to give chase.

His instincts seemed to recognize some unspoken message—she wanted him to claim her. All of it was enough to drive him mad. It was a wonder ...

I am but weary. This final mission was simply one too many to undertake.

I am your male, become my mate.

Research and preparation, just like any other mission.

Karak’duun, I’m acting like a human adolescent pumped full of hormones and self-doubt.

I suppose being a member of a highly advanced species is no guarantee of intelligence.

“This is why you have not found a mate here, Logan,” he muttered. “Who wants any male foolish enough to get a cactus stuck in a cupholder?”

Tabitha’s lips were pink, too. Perhaps not as vibrant as her nails, but their pink was softer and infinitely more enticing. What other parts of her were that color? Her nipples, her—

Despite those intense sensations, all his focus was upon Tabitha, who stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. His mouth watered as he took her in.

He wanted to tear off everything she was wearing, wanted to reveal her soft, pale skin and large breasts, wanted to shove her to the floor so he could thrust between her legs and rut—

Don’t just stare, Zevris. Speak, damn you.

He struggled to find the word. It was somewhere in his head, currently buried beneath a thousand half-imagined images of Tabitha in various states of undress, many of which had her positioned tantalizingly as he rutted her.

“You caught me in the middle of something, and I kind of had a spill. I know what this must look like, but I was definitely not making drugs.” Her lips quirked in an uncertain smile.

“Are you spoken for? Do you have a male?” “A male? Do you mean…a boyfriend?” Was he truly being that unclear? “Yes. A boyfriend. Husband. Mate.” “Oh!” her cheeks flushed. “No, no I…I don’t have anyone.”