Duration of Stay (The Department of Homeworld Security Book 6) Read online

  His ship was destroyed, his supplies gone. He could try to negotiate with one of the groups of sentients on Earth that he’d been sent to hunt, offering an exchange of resources for the use of their communication systems. But if he managed to send a signal requesting help, his reputation would be ruined.

  The greatest assassin in the galaxy, taken down by a pair of Lyrians who’d adopted an Earthling, of all things.

  He’d known he was off his game. He had been ever since he’d taken on the DNA of Eric Peterson. Something in the Earthling’s genetic makeup had troubled Zemanni since the moment he’d sampled it. Strange impulses and distracting thoughts he couldn’t explain.

  He’d never questioned what he did before. Never wanted more than to be the best at taking out targets and gathering power.

  Now, he wanted… Zemanni didn’t understand what.

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  “What?”

  “Coffee.” She arched an eyebrow at him when he just stared at her. “Hello? What we were just talking about? It’s an Earth beverage that many of us enjoy.”

  “I know what coffee is.”

  “Oh my God. Did you use your shapeshifting abilities to become a giant asshole, or is that part of your natural form?”

  He glared at her. She met his gaze and held it. It wasn’t something he was used to.

  More strange stimulation coursed through his body—this time, primarily affecting his skin. It tingled, especially in his hands. His groin was also starting to feel…tight.

  “Do you want some or not?” she said.

  He needed to get more fluid into this form. With all the quicksilver he’d lost, he felt desiccated.

  “Yes.”

  She turned toward the door, but stopped suddenly. “If I leave, are you going to try to drown again?”

  “I wasn’t trying to drown in the first place.”

  “Right.”

  She reached for one of the silver handles above the bathtub and turned it. Cold water started spraying from a nozzle high above, like rain. The droplets stung where they struck his flesh, but the cold was soothing. She reached into the tub and pulled out a stopper that was keeping the now-warm water in place.

  She smirked at him and said, “Just in case.”

  As soon as she’d left the room, he muttered, “Infuriating Earthling.”

  He didn’t even know her name yet.

  Why should he care? He’d be gone as soon as he could manage it. Though being able to call her by name might be helpful while he was in her care.

  He shivered. Help and care. Help and care. Words that came to his consciousness with increasing frequency.

  “Eric Peterson.” He spat out the words. “Of all the DNA templates to be stuck with, why yours?” Zemanni struck the water in front of him, sending it splashing up along the tile.

  He heard the woman’s voice from another room. “Everything okay in there?”

  “I’m not drowning,” he shouted back. His lungs still burned, but yelling released some of the energy coiling inside of him. The emotional energy, anyway.

  The other—the quicksilver—was starting to fade as well, what little he had in reserve going dormant.

  “What’s your name?” he called out.

  “Brooke. And if we keep shouting like this, someone’s going to call the cops. Not all of my neighbors are at work.”

  He let himself fall silent. Knowing her name soothed him for some reason. But the very fact that it did agitated him once more.

  How the hell was he going to get out of this one?

  Cygnus X, he was even starting to think like an Earthling. His people had no notion of hell—or heaven. There was only each commission—gaining rank, and watching his back as he tried to get in position behind other people’s to strike when they least expected it.

  A shiver passed over him. If a rival Scorpiian found him like this, unbelievably vulnerable, he was fairly sure what they would do. His kind had no pity, but they did have what Earthlings might call a mean streak accompanying their avarice.

  Zemanni had resources that many would envy. Resources that could only be accessed by a shapeshifting Scorpiian. Of course, if they didn’t use the right codes, they’d be in for a most unpleasant surprise.

  He was thinking in circles. He needed to focus. Heal. Replenish himself. Then come up with a plan.

  His tissues were settling into his new form, the high temperature of his body subsiding thanks to the Earthling’s help. It didn’t take concentration to make his form stay together anymore. The glow from the quicksilver seams had dimmed, leaving behind small lines of white scar tissue.

  He had delved deeper into his shapeshifting abilities than any other Scorpiian he’d ever heard of. He would test the limits of how much of himself he could change internally. As long as he had quicksilver in his system—even dormant—he’d always been able to change back.

  But most of his quicksilver had poured from his body during the Lyrian’s attack. His emergency supply had been on his ship, which was now utterly destroyed.

  Being human would be challenging, but he knew he would be able to adapt to the needs of this new form as they arose. Food. Sleep. Air. Eliminations.

  A disgusted grunt escaped him—a low booming sound from this ridiculously huge chest cavity. Even his thoughts sounded like the specific human whose form he had taken. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Zemanni took a deep breath to check and see how well his lungs were functioning now. The smell—the amazing smell—was stronger.

  He sniffed the air like an animal—and barely managed to care. What he’d smelled on the woman was a pale shadow of this.

  He stood and stepped out of the tub. The floor was cool and slippery against his feet. He carefully made his way out of the room. There was carpet in the hall, and the absorbent material made keeping his footing much easier.

  The smell grew stronger as he turned a corner and saw the Earthling standing with her back to him, humming a song. The woman who was helping him.

  Brooke.

  Another strange pang filled his chest. He rubbed at the muscles, trying to make the feeling go away. The motion made the hairs on his skin pull, annoying him.

  The aroma of the dark liquid she was brewing somehow promised healing and contentment. His mind felt more alert already.

  Humans talked about the stimulating effects of coffee. It was supposed to make their brains function better. And it smelled delicious.

  If he was going to be trapped in this appallingly sensitive form, he might was well enjoy it. He reached for the glass container of the liquid.

  Brooke turned, her eyes widening as she saw him. Her gaze slid down his body, then snapped back to his face. He wondered if she was as disgusted as he was by all of his borrowed form’s hair and bulk. Assessing her body for reactions, he noted that her pupils were dilated and her nipples had stiffened beneath her shirt, which was still damp from helping him in the bathtub.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I need to drink.”

  She looked back at the coffee, then stepped forward to intercept him. She went so far as to put a hand on his chest.

  His breath caught and his heart rate increased. A wave of extremely pleasant sensation sizzled over all of his skin. While the stimulus was strong around where she touched him, it was actually most intense in the bizarre reproductive organ at the bottom of his torso.

  Strange.

  He looked at her hand on his chest, then back to her face. Did she actually think she could stop him? She would not think so for long.

  Chapter Three

  She was touching an alien. A naked alien.

  Sure, she’d already pretty much draped his body over hers while helping him in from the car. And she’d had her arms around him while pulling him out of the tub. But this was different.

  His skin was still hot, but didn’t feel feverish like it had earlier. He was dripping wet from the bath, his dark hair plastered in
jagged little hooks around his forehead. The glowing silver lines had faded into what looked like totally badass scars all over his body.

  So much muscle. So much strength. He radiated masculine energy. Her fingers twitched as she fought the urge to slide her hand through his chest hair.

  Zemanni grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. Had she offended him somehow? Maybe he wasn’t okay with her touching him.

  She was about to apologize, but he grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back against the fridge, drawing her arms up over her head. He pinned her against the cold surface with his body so that she couldn’t move.

  Oh, damn. Was she in that kind of movie? Because with this guy, she was down with that.

  He shifted his grip so that he could hold her wrists with one huge, strong hand. Now that the other was free, he could use it to unbutton her jeans. Maybe slide it up under her shirt.

  He reached for the coffee pot.

  “Seriously?” she said. “You can’t drink that yet. It’s too hot.”

  He let out a grunt, stretching to try to reach it as she squirmed in his grasp.

  This was the bathtub all over again. She strained against his grip, but couldn’t budge him. It wasn’t nearly as sexy with him about to hurt himself. Again.

  “Listen to me, Zemanni. You just nearly drowned yourself. You obviously have no idea how human bodies work.”

  “Yes, I do.” His voice was a low rumble.

  “No, you don’t.” She managed to get one of her hands free and immediately used it to latch on to his arm and pull it away from the counter. “That coffee will burn you. Like damaging burns. If you can just wait a minute.”

  “I need liquid.”

  “Then I’ll get you some water.”

  “My body has cooled.”

  “That’s not what… Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

  “No, you are the one who’s impossible. You Earthlings with all of your differentiated nerve endings and tactile sensitivities.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  He shoved himself back against her, pressing his entire body to hers as he recaptured her wrist and pinned it next to the other above her head. Her breath caught in her throat. Part of her knew that she should be afraid. But she wasn’t.

  She could tell he wasn’t trying to force himself on her. Hell, if she thought he was interested, she’d be all over him in an instant. And she truly didn’t think he wanted to hurt her.

  Himself she wasn’t so sure about yet.

  He pushed harder, bringing more of their bodies into contact. “How do you even breathe with these solid air bladders? And almost all of your organs have discreet functions, with no backups.”

  “We get by,” she said.

  “You have no idea how precarious your existence is. How limited.”

  Now he was just pissing her off.

  “Actually, I’m the one who understands my ‘human limits’,” she said. “You’re the one who tried to breathe water and wants to drink scalding hot coffee straight from the pot. Human bodies can’t do those things, and I’m okay with it. There’s plenty that’s awesome about being human.”

  “Like what?”

  His face was inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. He was staring at her intently, like he was daring her to prove to him that being a human was a worthwhile experience. She decided to go for it.

  She kissed him.

  All of his muscles locked up. She could feel it. She could also feel the softness and warmth of his lips. He didn’t pull away.

  She moved her mouth against his, urging him to kiss her back. His grip on her wrists loosened. It was a good start.

  With her hands free, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders to hold herself tight against him and used the other to bury her fingers in his hair. She gently raked her nails along his scalp before grabbing a fistful of the dark strands to guide his head to tilt slightly to the side.

  She kept working his mouth, trying to get him to open to her, to kiss her back, to do anything but just stand there pinning her to her fridge. His hands dropped to her hips.

  Better.

  Running her tongue along the seam of his lips, she ran her nails over his scalp again. He groaned, giving her the opening she needed. She slipped her tongue deeper, until it met his, caressing it with long strokes.

  She really hoped he wouldn’t accidentally bite her. Or on-purpose bite her. He might have sensed her doubts, because he shifted his hands to her ass, pulling her hips firmly against his.

  A shower and a grower. Damn. She was going to make this happen.

  She released his mouth, pulling his hair firmly to the side to give her better access to his neck and ear. His hands clenched her tight as she nipped and kissed his neck.

  Pulling herself up higher on his shoulders, she sucked his earlobe into her mouth, tonguing it, running her teeth over it. He moaned, rocking his hips against her and tugging at her jeans—which weren’t the best wardrobe choice now that she thought about what they were doing. The fabric had to be chafing him.

  She managed to tear herself away from the lust clouding her mind, and said, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I don’t give a rank about the coffee anymore.”

  Give a rank? She’d ask about it later.

  “That’s not what I mean. You’re going to hurt your dick on my jeans.”

  “My what?” He was still grinding against her.

  Why hadn’t she worn a skirt to work? Oh right, because it was freezing outside. The heat they were generating made it feel like summer in her kitchen.

  “I want your mouth on me again,” he said.

  It wasn’t a sweet nothing whispered in her ear or even a polite request. His tone was commanding in a way she’d never experienced. Sure, she’d dated guys who tried to act macho in the bedroom, but Zemanni… There was an intensity about him that made his confidence completely irresistible.

  She’d dated a string of broken men before. This took it to a whole new level.

  Rescuer and now this. Brooke wasn’t even sure how to classify it. She had better things to think about anyway.

  “Now,” he said, thrusting against her again and wincing, even as he pulled her hips tighter against his.

  She smirked at him. “You asked for it.”

  Chapter Four

  What was she planning? Zemanni had lived far too long to not know when someone was plotting against him. But she was also pressing herself against him, and stars help him, he couldn’t get enough of it.

  He’d never had cause to kiss someone during an assignment. And if he had, he doubted it would have felt like this while he was only disguised as a human. Beneath his skin, he’d always been a Scorpiian.

  The solid flesh that had felt like a prison was beginning to feel like…an opportunity. His heart beat, sending his thin human blood coursing through veins that seemed to swell in anticipation.

  His “dick”, as she’d called it, had actually grown, the sensation oddly reminiscent of shifting in his natural form. It was no longer soft, but incredibly hard. The skin had been pulled tight, bringing all of the nerve endings within the organ to full alert. He couldn’t believe how much he could sense through it.

  There was warmth at the apex of her legs. Warmth and wetness. He felt drawn to that heat, driving his dick against her, seeking.

  Her clothing was a mix of soft fabric and hard seams. Not what he wanted.

  He wanted softness and…something he couldn’t name.

  “Step back,” she said.

  “No.”

  She let out a frustrated sound, but then arched an eyebrow and smirked at him. Leaning forward again, she bit his neck in the tantalizing way she’d been doing earlier. His dick throbbed, need coursing through him along with his human blood.

  Pulling his earlobe into her mouth, she sucked it, ran her tongue around it, and again caught it between her teeth with just enough pressure to resonate through his body. She released it, t
hen blew on the wet surface, making his skin respond in yet another way.

  More stimulation. More pleasure. That was what he wanted.

  “I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you,” she whispered.

  Such a promise. For a moment, it was as though she was speaking his language. Offering an exchange—usually services for resources. But she couldn’t know how those words would affect a Scorpiian.

  What was she offering? More of this? More than this?

  And what could he offer in return?

  She pushed on his chest, and he let her move him back a pace. If her offering wasn’t sufficient, he wanted to be able to press her against the surface behind her again and resume their earlier activity. The pleasure it gave him was worth the moments of pain.

  She raked her nails through the hair covering his chest. A thrum of pleasure jolted along his nerves. The hairs caught against her fingers, heightening the sensation. Perhaps it had a use after all.

  Brooke seemed to enjoy looking at it, at least. And touching it. Her fingertips trailed down the line of dark hair, along the ripples of muscles covering his abdomen.

  “You want my mouth on you again?” she said.

  “Yes.” Hadn’t she understood him earlier?

  “What about my hands?”

  Those, too, but he was more interested in—

  His thoughts cut out abruptly at the overload of pleasure that hit his brain as she wrapped her hand around his dick. He half-fell, half-leaned forward, catching himself with his hands on the cold metal of the fridge behind her.

  Her face was just next to his ear again, and she brushed it with her cheek. She tightened her grip, pulling the flesh of his dick in a long, slow stroke.

  “Stars,” he grunted out, thrusting against her hand.

  What is this?

  While she kept up her stroking, she went after his ear and neck again, stimulating them with her mouth. So many parts of his body were giving him input that he wanted to pay attention to all at once.

  So much sensation. So much pleasure.

  It was impossible to track it all. He was tempted to just give himself over to the experience, but that would require allowing himself to be distracted to a degree that he had never allowed before.