New Species 05 Brawn (4 page)

She had to give him a lot of credit for taking the news
better than she expected. “Good. I’ll leave you to cook your meal now. I’m
going to return to the family room and get shit-face drunk. You’ll discover
that I do that after I have a blowout with my dad. He drives me to drink.”

She spun and walked away before he could question her
further. All that talk about her husband left her feeling sad and vulnerable.
Intense pain squeezed her heart as she walked into the family room, sat at the
bar and poured another drink.

The shit part was that her father had been right about
Bradley but she couldn’t ever admit that aloud because her dad would never
allow her to forget it. He’d rub it in and use it as an example in every
argument they had. That would be so often that it wasn’t funny. She downed
another shot, closed her eyes and hissed from the burn of the booze sliding
down into her belly.

Brawn watched Becca leave the kitchen and sighed. He knew
what shit-faced drunk meant. She planned to drink to excess, get completely
inebriated and he hoped his new house mate wasn’t one of those humans who did
it often. He hated the smell of alcohol and he’d seen movies of drunk people
enough to wish to avoid them.

This was not going the way he had thought it would. Not at
all. He’d been promised a secluded home, privacy, yet instead he lived with a
human woman. Worse, he found her attractive. The memory of her bent over the
bed he’d sleep in later would stick with him for a while. She had a curved,
lush body, very unlike Species women. She appeared supple, fragile and would
probably scream if he ever unleashed his desire on her.

Her hand had been small and very soft when he’d held it
after their introduction. The idea of having her touch him with them made his
cock twitch. Of course the thought of pinning her under him only made it worse.
He’d probably crush her under his weight or accidentally break her somehow.

He softly growled as he moved around the kitchen to familiarize
himself with it. He pulled out a few steaks, heated the skillet and found a
plate, then got the tongs to turn his steaks as he seared them.

He sat at the island eating while thoughts of Becca Oberto
plagued him. She was a complication he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with. He
could ask her father to allow him to live in the bigger house near the road. It
would simplify things but that would be cowardly. He lifted his gaze to the
fridge, studying the photos that were stuck on it—Becca with different humans.
She smiled in all of them and appeared happy. It was a confusing contradiction
if she had turned to drinking a lot of alcohol. He wasn’t too sure of his human
facts but it implied she had serious issues. Her mate dying would do it.

He finished his dinner, cleaned up the mess and washed his
dishes. He heard music when he turned off the water and dried his hands. It was
too early to go to bed and his room didn’t have a television. He’d need to ask
for one, he missed his cable channels already and regretted volunteering to
take the mission for his people.

Someone needed to work with the human task force though. A
Species female would have been perfect for the job but he hadn’t wanted to
expose any of them to human males. Everything he’d learned so far about them
made him believe they’d harass her. It was a man’s world outside the NSO gates,
or so he’d been told. Females were to be protected at all costs. The idea of
allowing one to go into danger made his entire body stiffen. He’d tough it out
and would deal with whatever came his way. Better him than one of the females.

He worried about Becca as he put his foot on the bottom step
to return to his room. She wasn’t a big female and a memory of a movie he’d
watched made him turn back. She could drink enough to become violently ill and
he wanted to check on her health.

He followed the rock music and paused in the archway to the
family room. Becca sat at the bar with a bottle and a tiny glass in front of
her. She seemed to sense him and turned her head. The wide grin she gave him
and her overly bright, blue eyes assured him that she’d drunk too much. She
waved him over, her movements clumsy.

“Hello, handsome. Wanna drink?”

Her voice slurred a little and it shocked him that she’d
called him that. “My name is Brawn. I don’t know of any Species who chose to be
called that.”

A giggle made her shoulders shake and she snorted softly. “I
know your name. You’re good-looking but you know that, right?”

She found him attractive. That fact left him speechless.

She patted the seat next to her. “Wanna drink? It doesn’t
burn going down anymore.”

He inched into the room. “I don’t drink alcohol but thank
you for the offer. How many have you had?”

“I don’t know.” She nearly slipped off the chair as she
adjusted on the seat. “Not enough. I’m still conscious.”

“Drinking alcohol inebriates you, slows your response time
and makes logic difficult to practice.”

She laughed. “You are so cute.”

His eyebrows lifted. No one had ever called him that before.
Ferocious, a bastard and other choice names but never something that implied
that definition. Worry ate at him more over her mental state.

“Perhaps you should go to bed and sleep. I’ve heard a saying
that things always look better in the morning.”

“It’s early.” She patted the barstool next to her. “Come
over here. I won’t bite.”

“Aren’t you afraid I will?” He couldn’t resist opening his
mouth and showing her his canines, curious why she didn’t seem to fear him.
Human women always did.

“Nope.” She patted the barstool again. “Come closer.” Her eyes
narrowed. “You’re kind of blurry.” She giggled. “I don’t drink often but when I
do, wow boy, do I do it right.”

He’d never heard that phrasing before and approached her
cautiously. It was a bad idea, he should go to his room, but worry kept him
there. She needed someone to look out for her. Her mate wasn’t around anymore
to do it and her father wasn’t living inside her home. It was up to him to make
certain she didn’t have any misadventures in her defenseless state.

He sat on the barstool, too close to her in his
estimation—and hoped she didn’t throw up the way he’d seen women do in movies.
“I don’t understand why you would purposely do this to your body.”

“You mean the calories?” She glanced down. “I could lose
some weight. I sit on my butt too much at work but it’s not as though I have to
impress anyone anymore.”

“Calories?”

“You know, because I’m a little overweight.”

He studied her body. “You’re very small. You can’t weigh
much.”

“I’m a hundred-and-sixty pounds.” She laughed then clasped a
hand over her mouth and giggled before lowering it. “I usually lie.” She leaned
closer to him. “I say I weigh twenty pounds less than I really do.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Lie?” She reached out and pressed her palm to his chest.
“It’s what women do. We lie about our weight, our age and our sexual history.”

Confusion gripped him again and he tried to ignore the
warmth of her hand soaking through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Why would you
do that?”

“You want to know about humans? They lie. We’re sneaky
bastards or bitches sometimes. If our mouths are moving, well, expect some
bullshit. It’s just human nature. In my case, I hate admitting that I’ve only
slept with two men. It sounds pathetic and I lie about my age because I’m
coming up on the big three-o. Thirty. That’s a bad thing to women. As for the
weight, we wear stuff, trying to hide the flab.”

“Flab?”

“You know, those extra little unsightly bulges.”

He glanced down her body, paused on her breasts and frowned.
His gaze lifted. “There is nothing unsightly about you.”

Her free hand reached for his and he allowed her to move it
to her side. She pressed it against her waist. “Squeeze.”

He gently did as she bid, amazed at how soft she felt
through her clothes and the give in her skin. She smiled at him.

“Feel that? Love handles. I’ve got them.”

He opened his hand and released her. “You feel nice.”

“It doesn’t look so hot.” She patted his chest. “You’re so
nice. I hope the guys on my dad’s team don’t rub off on you. Men can be real
lying jerks but you’re different.”

“I’m honest.”

Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips—her pink tongue
darted out to wet the lower one and her hand slid a little lower to press over
his heart. “Stay that way.”

“I don’t like deceit.”

“Me neither.” She inhaled deeply, leaned back, removed her
hand and faced the bar. “But it’s necessary.”

“I don’t understand. You have secrets you need to protect?”

She wrapped her hand around the glass, lifted it and took a
sip. A grimace twisted her features and she put it down. “The burn is gone but
it tastes like shit.”

He inhaled, the vile smell of alcohol there, but nothing to
indicate it would taste of excrement. “Don’t drink it.”

“It helps.” She stared at the bar. “Sometimes I want to
forget stuff and when I’m hurting it helps numb me.”

Worry gripped him. “You need medical attention?” He sniffed
again, leaned a little closer and tried to get an in-depth take on her scent.
She smelled of strawberries, oatmeal and laundry detergent but he didn’t pick
up any trace of illness.

She turned her head and smiled. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have the chemical smell of humans who take
medications. It sweats out of the pores. You’re ill?”

“No. I just had horrible taste in men and my father drives
me nuts. I think my grandfather left me the guesthouse because he knew I’d
never talk to my dad otherwise. We don’t get along.”

“Is having a parent challenging?”

She released her drink and turned to face him. “You have no
idea! He drives me nuts.” She put her hand on his thigh near his knee and he
glanced down to see it curved over his jeans. “He’s such a dick sometimes, so
controlling and judgmental. I always had to be perfect or he lectured me about
it. He’s not, but I’m supposed to be.”

His gaze lifted. “Are humans always so into touching people
when they talk?”

She looked down, laughed and squeezed his leg. “Sorry.” She
lifted her hand and peered up at his face. “Your eyes are really amazing. Did I
tell you that? I think they are so beautiful. Can you see colors and
everything?”

“Yes. My vision is perfect.”

“My dad thinks you’re mixed with a lion or a panther. Do you
have a tail?”

It shocked him that she’d ask. His lips parted but nothing
came out.

“It’s okay if you have one. I’d still think you were hot.”

“My skin is warmer than yours naturally but I don’t have a
tail.”

That set her off into giggles. He liked the sound and the
way dimples appeared in her cheeks. She licked her lips again. “You are so
funny. Do you dance?”

“Yes.”

“I bet you do.” She openly stared at his chest, taking him
in, and sighed. “Off-limits. It figures. I’ve got really shitty luck. Did I
mention that?”

“Would you like to dance?” The alcohol had affected her
logic since she wasn’t making much sense. “You asked if I can and I enjoy it.”

“I don’t have any dollar bills.” That set her off into a fit
of laughter and she nearly slid off her barstool.

He reached out and gently wrapped a hand around her waist to
make certain she didn’t lose her balance. “Dance with me.” He stood and gently
eased her to her feet. She swayed on unsteady, bare feet, her shoes on the
floor under her barstool, which he hadn’t noticed until that second. “The slow
motion might lure you to sleep. I won’t allow you to fall.”

“You want me to go to sleep?” She leaned in to him, her body
lax against his and she felt small in his arms. “That figures too. Most guys
would want to strip a woman and fuck her blind if she were blitzed.”

“You’re inebriated and not logical. I would never engage in
shared sex with you.”

“Damn shame,” she muttered and turned her head, resting it
against his chest. She gripped his biceps. “Show me what you’ve got, hot
stuff.”

He ignored the fast beat of the rock song and adjusted his
hold to make sure she wouldn’t fall if she passed out. He moved his body just
enough to keep her swaying on her feet.

“You smell really good.” Her fingers brushed his skin. “And
you’re really big.”

“Thank you. I’m not a danger to you.”

She snuggled closer and as he looked down, he noticed her
eyes closed as they danced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her fingernails raked his outer arms and he bit back a growl
as his cock stiffened even more at the light caresses. It was a really bad idea
to share a house, especially with a woman who drank alcohol and admitted to
being deceptive.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Brawn?”

“No.”

“Someone is missing out. You’re a sweetheart to dance with
me.”

“That’s another term I’ve never heard when I’m discussed.”
He smiled. “You are amusing when you drink, Becca.”

“Thanks.” She released his arms and stretched up to grip the
top of his shoulders. “Did I insult you when I asked if you have a tail or
could see colors? I didn’t mean to ask that. It just blurted out of my mouth.
Were those taboo questions?”

“Not at all. You’re curious about me and I’m curious about
humans.”

She lifted her head and her eyes opened. She stopped moving
against him so he held still, holding her gaze. “Are you a lion or a panther
mix?”

“I don’t know. My records weren’t recovered.”

“Can I touch your hair? It’s so long and beautiful that I
wanted to ask earlier. It’s a shame you pull it back.”

The request surprised him. “It keeps it out of the way. Go
ahead. It grows really fast. I need to cut it again soon.”

She leaned into him and he flipped it over his shoulder to
trail down his chest. Her fingers brushed his long ponytail and she smiled.
“Please don’t. It’s as silky as it looks and it would be a crime if you hacked
it off.”