Wanted by the Alien Warden (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides, #4)

by Ursa Dax

“Yes!” A massive smile split his face, and it was so big and so pure that I almost didn’t even notice the sharp glint of fangs there. “I am eternally grateful to be able to say that I am, indeed, Darcy’s husband!”

“Yes,” Fallon breathed, his eyes now very, very bright white. “Without you and your most illuminating guide, I would not know about the wonders of the clitorosaurus.”

“‘Speaking of murder?’” I repeated in disbelief. “What sort of segue is that?!”

“Jeez,” Cherry whispered to her husband. “Who pissed in his breakfast?” I whirled on her, nearly dropping my hat. “Who pissed where?”

“I think,” she went on, “that Tasha isn’t going to be worried about things like how good your uniform looks. She’s mostly going to be making sure that none of us humans have married legitimately homicidal maniacs. That we’re healthy and safe and getting our three square meals a day. That sort of thing.” I did not know that human females ate meals shaped into squares. This was good, if odd, information.

I opened my mouth to tell him that oh, yes, other parts of me had a problem with him. Starting with my brain, thank you very much. But, unfortunately, some other parts of me had decided to stage a mutiny of the highest order. My heart, nipples, and, Jesus fucking Christ, the tingling place between my legs, apparently had no problem at all with the swaggering, orange-eyed warden.

“You guys,” I said, stopping to close my eyes and rub my temples. “Please. I am begging you. Be so real with me right now.”

No wonder the man didn’t get away with murder. Not a subtle bone in his big alien body.

“They wear pyjamas!” Fallon said cheerfully as I pulled him through the kitchen and past Silar. “That cannot be a real word,” I grumbled, finally releasing him. “Oh, it is! Although, sometimes I believe they are instead called ‘jammies.’” “That also cannot be correct,” I snapped, “because that is translating into something akin to a sweetened, puréed fruit spread. Although, Tasha also called me a ‘nacho man’ earlier, and my preliminary research tells me a nacho is a type of savoury, crunchy human snack. Often topped with cheese.” “Humans do love cheese,” Fallon agreed sagely,

Fallon was easily one of the kindest men in this province, if not the entire colony. I had not, however, ever considered him to be one of the wisest.

Every sign was currently telling me that a pair of alien convict cowboys were better partners than my non-criminal, human ex-boyfriend could ever dream of being.

Clearly, my hormones were going absolutely haywire in the presence of seven-foot-something of pure muscle and masculine Zabrian energy. Maybe I’m ovulating.

No one had ever told me I deserved anything pretty before.

Incoming Tablet Communication Cherry Dawson: OH MY GOD. Incoming Tablet Communication Magnolia Jones: What??? Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois: AHH CHERRY I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO SAY!!! Incoming Tablet Communication Tasha Wallace: ? Incoming Tablet Communication Cherry Dawson: That vegetable dick… The dickplant, if you will… Is a very nice shade of purple… Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois: AND WE KNOW SOMEONE ELSE WHO’S PURPLE!

But perhaps that was a good thing. Because if another male was imagining doing to Tasha’s skin what I was now, there was a good chance I’d have my stunner aimed at his heart before anyone – including my own good sense – could stop me. Which, frankly, did not say good things about my current mental state.

This was going to be a very long month, if I was going to get hard every time I noticed her bare neck or she deigned to touch something even remotely phallic in shape with those pretty fingers.

I was sensing a rather pathetic amount of masturbation in my future.

Masturbation. That is truly how I would have to survive. Masturbation and suffering.

I was dazzled by the muscle-popping, vein-throbbing sight of his exposed forearms as he gripped the handlebars and steered the slicer with practised ease.

As if I wasn’t tortured ENOUGH with regular ass bikers she had to go and throw an alien one at me

“What would it take,” he asked quietly, “to get you comfortable enough with me to simply call me by my name?” “I… I don’t know. Time, I guess?” He chuckled softly. “Perfect,” he said, throaty and warm. “I’ve got nothing but time out here, Tasha. And if you want it, I can give you it all.”

Her leg was not very heavy. Tell me, then, why it suddenly became so difficult to breathe? Perhaps this was punishment for the information that was withheld from her before. And she now meant to torture me with snuggles.

Masturbation and suffering, Tenn. That truly is your new lot in life.

I was a horrible person. It was a good thing I didn’t believe in hell. If I did, I’d be depressingly certain I was headed there. But no, now I was just depressed in a much more general sense.

“Next time something’s hurting you,” he said on a guttural growl, “you don’t go wiggling around, ignoring it, or trying to solve it yourself. You tell me. You tell me right away.” He released the closed lid and came around the side of the slicer. His calloused fingers found my chin. My entire body spasmed at the firm yet tender touch. “I don’t care what’s causing it. I don’t care if it’s me. You tell me.” A raw, raging emotion tore through that white gaze. “Especially if it’s me. You tell me, Tasha.”

“When you’re hurting, you tell your warden. That’s your most important duty. That’s your job.” He lowered his face so that I felt his next words against my mouth more than heard them. “Fixing it is mine.”

“Where do I put my hands?” he panted against my mouth a few seconds later. “Where… Wherever you want,” I whispered shakily. “Don’t tell me that,” he groaned. “You might not like the places I’d put them.” What places? What places?!

Jesus take the fucking wheel. Unfortunately, I remained in control of the wheel

“Could… Could I see?” White fire flared in his gaze. “You want to see my cock?” Cock. Oh. That’s… That’s a word.

“Rivven?” I asked, suppressing a sigh. “What are your thoughts?” He rubbed the blunt end of his right wrist with the clawed fingers of his left hand, hesitated, then haltingly said, “I would try to find out why she was upset.” “Very good,” I said, impressed. “And then?” “And then I’d fix it.” OK. I like Rivven.