Page 121 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Alien tentacle sex followed by property damage.

Maybe that would be how our future always played out: breakage often following something joyful. Honestly, I was okay with that.

We moved to the bedroom, leaving the busted ceiling fan behind, a problem for tomorrow. Vantor carried me, because my legs wobbled too much. I was fighting sleep yet again by the time he lowered me onto the bed, and they wrapped their bodies around me.

“Tell me again,” I murmured, fighting the drowsiness that threatened to pull me under. “Tell me you’re staying.”

Their tentacles tightened around me in unison, and in their arms, I felt safer than I had in my entire life.

“Until our hearts stop beating,” Vantor promised.

“Until the stars burn out,” added Kalith.

“Until molecular entropy claims the universe itself,” Cyro concluded.

Their promises wrapped around me like their tentacles, sealing me in warmth and security as I gave into dreamland. They had traveled across the stars, abandoned their home world, chosen to fake their deaths—all for me. And I had given them Earth, given them Sunflower Hills Ranch, given them myself. I didn’t know if it was a fair exchange. I hoped they wouldn’t regret it.

No. They wouldn’t.

They were home. I was home. We were home.

43

TAMMY

Sunflowers, tentacles, and all the time in the universe.

Iwoke to find the bed empty, the space beside me still warm where three bodies had been. Almost a year later, and I still couldn’t quite believe that they’d chosen me, chosen this place, over the oceans of their home world. So, whenever I woke up and they weren’t with me, I had a moment of panic even now.

Morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, glowing across the rumpled sheets, still damp from our late night lovemaking. We didn’t ruin ceiling fans nowadays, since Kalith had set large, weight-bearing eye hooks into the ceiling above my bed.

I smiled despite still feeling exhausted, stretching muscles that still ached pleasantly from being torn apart, and put back together again, by my three mates. Even so, after climaxing repeatedly, I hadn’t slept very well. The ranch, our livelihood, hinged on Sassafras’ pregnancy continuing to do well. And it was going beautifully so far, but I kept waiting for everything to fall apart. The bank had nearly beaten me to it. But a confirmed pregnancy changed the math—twins, no less, out of champion lines—and I’d taken the vet’s report straight to First Kansas and walked out with a reprieve. A reputable buyer, hungry for a piece of the comeback the whole county had suddenly started whispering about, wired me a deposit: half down on a foal not yet born. It was just enough to drag the mortgage current and carry me to the auction. Barely. That razor-thin margin still visited me at three in the morning.

Sitting up, I tossed away the covers and swung my legs over the bed, letting my feet dangle above the hardwoods. A large lump pushed up one butt cheek uncomfortably. The mattress wasn’t holding up very well with all of us sleeping—and doing far more active things than sleeping—on it. Even if it wasn’t indenting and lumping, springs losing their shapes, the bed wasn’t built for four. I mean, we’d figured out the logistics through trial and error and an embarrassing number of late-night spills onto the floor, but it wouldn’t work forever. I should buy a bigger bed, or maybe a twin to butt up against the queen, but I also didn’t relish the idea of there being more space for us to spread out. I liked falling asleep wrapped in tentacles, legs, and arms. I liked the pressure, and the heat, and the sound of their many hearts beating.

Speaking of sounds, the house creaked with familiar ones, despite being rebuilt and alien upgraded. You can remodel all you want, but “old” is a state of mind when it comes to a home.

There was water running in the bathroom, soft voices from the kitchen, the gentle hum of our Wi-Fi router that Kalith had “optimized” last week so I could finally watch all my shows out here in the middle of nowhere. Standing up, I grabbed an oversized t-shirt from the floor that belonged to Cyro and put it on. The tee had ragged holes in various places where his tentacles pushed through. Earth clothing constantly presented challenges, so we kept a closet of good-condition outfits for when we needed to go out in public and have them look wholly human. At the ranch though? They were always walking around in their full hybrid glory.

I padded barefoot through the hallway, shimmying a little to stop the panties from giving me a wedgie, then skipped down the stairs toward the kitchen.

The scent hit me first—rich, dark coffee with that hint of vanilla Kalith always added. He’d made some horrible combinations at first when he’d taken over prepping our morning Joe. Cayenne. Lemon. Mashed raspberries. Even mustard one morning, because he thought it might compliment the breakfast blend. He had down pat now though.

After the glorious smell of coffee, came the sight of Vantor leaning against the counter. I stopped in my tracks to stare at him. His human face always made me do a double-take. No one had any right to be so handsome. Of course, when you can craft your face anyway you wish through sheer will, why would you choose to be average looking? His tentacles trailed behind him, tips brushing the floor, and his muscular arms were crossed over his chest as he watched Kalith carefully measure the perfect amount of creamer into a mug. I glanced to the right, finding Cyro standing by the window, his face turned toward the rising sun, three tentacles emerging from his back to grip separate mugs while a fourth welded a spoon, stirring the liquid inside each vessel one-by-one.

Their tanned bodies rippled with subtle colors wherever sunlight hit them—crimson waves chasing across Vantor's forearms, lavender-tinged silver dancing along Cyro’s back, and forest greens pulsing through Kalith’s neck as he concentrated on his task. The colors were brighter now than when they’d first arrived, less controlled, more expressive. It had taken them months to stop hiding their emotions, to understand that I wanted to see everything—their true selves, not the masks they thought I needed. I’d even told them they didn’t need to keep up the human guises in the house, but apparently, they’d gotten used to looking human.

“Good morning,” I said, leaning against the doorframe, cocking one leg up to rest the sole of its foot against my other leg’s calf. I scratched absentmindedly at my side, the shirt hem lifting high enough to show off my panties. Six alien-man eyes flicked down, and the kitchen air clouded with scent. My Omega nature stretched, wanting them, but I wanted something else more—coffee.

“It is always a good morning, Tammy,” Vantor reasoned, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to exist without bad days interrupting anything good. But with them around, that was becoming my new reality.

“I guess I should stop being surprised when I wake up and everything’s right in the world,” I mused. Vantor always put things plainly. He didn’t exaggerate or undersell things. I appreciated that. It was easy, sometimes, to wonder if he didn’t feel things as deeply as the rest of us, but I’d found he cared every bit as much, just in a quieter way.

“Everything’s right,” Kalith agreed, walking toward me with the now-ready fourth cup of coffee he’d been making, “and it will keep being right.”

“As soon as I have my coffee, I’ll believe that.” I gave him a warm smile, standing up straight and reaching for the mug. He lifted it too high for me to grab, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Hey, you know the rule, we don’t mess with Tammy before coffee.”

I raised an eyebrow at Kalith, arms crossed over my chest, tapping my foot against the floor in mock impatience. “You know how I feel about mornings. I need my coffee, or all you get is a grumpy rancher who won’t be able to focus on anything but how much she hates life.”