Page 60 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered.

“That is fine. We do not need to speak of your ex-mate.” Vantor lifted a tentacle and stretched it toward me. He brushed it against my shoulder. I let him. He was undeniably handsome in a way. Standing there with his superhero body and wonderful face, body enhanced by amazing tentacles that could put out a fire easily.

Suddenly, I couldn’t help but compare my Alpha human ex to this specimen of E.T. kind standing in front of me. Despite the heat, he was still somehow moist. His skin had a translucent quality where the water had soaked through his clothes, and beneath it, I could see the complex patterns of muscles and chromatophores that made up his true form. His eyes had developed a second, filmy lid that occasionally swept across the surface, protection against the smoke that my human eyes lacked.

Instead of backing away, I found myself stepping closer, drawn to the alienness of him even as part of my brain screamed that I should be running in the opposite direction. His scent cut through the smoke. It was an ocean-deep smell that had affected me since their arrival, but stronger now, rawer and more authentic without the full human disguise to mask it.

"Your biochemistry is shifting," Cyro observed, his voice losing all analytical edge. "The fear markers are being replaced by... different compounds."

I stopped in place, still feet away from Vantor. I didn't need an alien scientist to tell me what my body was doing. I could feel it—the liquid warmth pooling between my thighs, the heightened sensitivity of my skin, the way my breasts felt suddenly heavy and tender where they pressed against Cyro's chest. My Omega biology was responding to their combined presence with an intensity that left me breathless. They were not human Alphas. I could not feel this way about them.

Vantor moved closer, his gaze widening as he positioned himself close to me. His large form shadowed mine. "Your scent..." he began, then stopped, apparently unable to find the words to complete his thought.

Cyro and Kalith closed the gap between us quickly, their tentacles also moving to touch me cautiously and tenderly. I closed my eyes, reveling in how their touch felt silky yet rough against my skin where the suckers brushed. Maybe I should give into this need? Jump their alien bodies right here, right now, in the middle of a disaster zone.

“We’re not from the same world,” I made myself say, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I need to figure out what to do about Derek.”

The three aliens exchanged glances, their strange eyes communicating something I couldn’t understand. Vantor was the first to withdraw his tentacle, his human disguise solidifying as he took a deliberate step back.

“You are correct,” he said, his voice regaining its steadiness. “We have allowed our biological responses to override our duty.”

“The mission is our priority,” Cyro nodded, his voice filtering into my mind and my ears at once.

“I have to fix the ship,” Kalith murmured, a river of untapped need flowing inside each syllable.

“Right.” The fight drained out of me as fast as it had come. Because a restraining order meant a police report, and a police report meant a deputy standing in my yard, asking who had rebuilt a whole barn overnight—and wanting to shake hands with three ranch hands who had no last names, no papers, and a bad habit of sprouting extra limbs when startled. I could hang Derek for this fire. All it would cost me was handing the world three aliens to strap to a dissection table. So there’d be no cops. No court. No restraining order. Just me, a shotgun I barely knew how to aim, and three squid men who’d apparently appointed themselves my security detail. “I’m going to go check on the horses,” I said, and made myself walk toward the door.

Despite my good sense, I glanced back as I walked over the stable’s threshold.

All three aliens were staring at me.

They were magnificent. Terrifying, but utterly magnificent. My Omega biology responded with a rush of wet warmth between my thighs, my scent flaring outward again. Shit, I hope they couldn’t smell this new wave of desire.

I forced myself back into motion, ducking out of sight to press my back into the exterior stable wall. The evening air kissed against the Omega heat pulsing from my pores. I needed to catch my breath and reclaim sanity. As I stood there, taking deep, steadying breaths, I heard them talking inside the flame-crisped building.

"If Derek Morgan is responsible for this attack,” Cyro’s voice floated to me, "then he represents an ongoing threat that must be neutralized.”

“That we will neutralize,” Vantor amended.

“We have many security devices onboard.” This from Kalith.

“Then we will do more than repair the fence barrier. We will fortify this place against future attacks.” Vantor’s voice was firm.

In that moment, I knew that whatever psycho switch had flipped inside Derek wasn’t about to turn off anytime soon. This was just the start.

Because he wasn’t going to give up on me. I’d had this silly hope that, after a while, he’d find someone new. I’d be that crazy girl who abandoned a good thing—the big ring, the pretty dresses, the designer shoes—and bought a shithole ranch with no future.

I should have known better.

Derek didn’t like losing what he thought of as “his”. And I’d been his for a long time.

That crushing weight pressing down on me grew even heavier as I pushed myself away from the building and slowly walked through night shadows toward the training paddock.

20

VANTOR

If Tammy’s ex-mate returned, we would be ready, and he would soon discover why I held the Andromeda Belt for immobilizing hostile lifeforms.