Marcun (Sky Warriors Book 1) Page 3

  There, that was pretty civil, right? And then she’d just shove the brownie at him and run before he could make fun of her inability to say the word sex out loud.

  “Such a prude, Eden.”

  Barry had always told her that she was an ice princess when it came to sex. She’d always thought there was something wrong with her, some reason she wasn’t interested in sex, that she didn’t find Barry’s touch arousing.

  That is, until the sex maniac moved in and his moans and groans had her nipples tightening into tight buds, her pussy throbbing with need, her clit aching. She’d actually touched herself a few times while listening to him. But she’d caught herself before she’d gotten too carried away.

  Getting herself off while listening to other people have sex was dirty. And so not her. She was a good girl. Besides, she’d never actually managed to bring herself to orgasm. Her own touch did nothing for her. Normally.

  She stood there for a moment, staring at the door. This was it. She could do this. She was a grown woman and she needed to stop being such a wimp. Adrenaline flooded her body. Butterflies danced in her stomach.

  Before she completely chickened out, she raised her hand and knocked.

  Marcun scowled at the door. Who could that be? Tecan and Sacaren were not due here for another hour and they would not knock. Could it be those same people who had knocked two days ago wishing to speak of their God? He could not understand how they believed in a God they did not see.

  Faith, they told him.

  Faith was not tangible or measurable. It was a feeling. Marcun preferred facts. Something concrete.

  Another knock. Whoever it was they were persistent. He pulled his wings back and reached for his shirt. He was hungry, tired and grouchy. He did not have the patience to deal with another human right now. All day long he’d been teased by the scents coming from the female’s place of work. Even now he could still smell whatever it was that she’d carried back to her living quarters with her.

  He opened the door with a snarl. “What?”

  Eden gaped up at the angry male standing in the doorway. No, standing wasn’t the right word. He loomed over her, dominating the space, his head nearly touching the top of the door frame.

  He was huge.

  She ran her gaze over him. Swallowing heavily as she took him in.

  The first word that came to mind was terrifying. His face was breath-taking in a scary, almost inhuman way. His blue-green eyes were stormy, his face carved into harsh lines softened only by his full lips. She didn’t think he smiled often; his face was unlined, his dark hair short.

  She moved her eyes lower, her heart racing as she took in his wide shoulders, covered in a partially unbuttoned shirt. A bright blue pineapple print shirt. She blinked. That was unexpected. But her gaze soon went past the strangely cheerful shirt to his chest. His bare chest. She licked her lips.

  The. Man. Was. Ripped.

  Was it even possible for a person to be that muscular? There wasn’t an ounce of fat or a hint of weakness. His stomach looked like someone had carved it from stone, beginning at his strong chest down to his wave of abs and lower... his pants rode low on his hips and she could see the pronounced V of his hips.

  Her heart raced, her palms growing even more sweaty and the plate of brownies she held slipped through her grasp. His reflexes quick, he reached out and grabbed the plate before it could smash to the ground.

  “T-thank you,” she managed to spit out. Her manners so ingrained that even through the strange wash of heat swamping her body, she somehow managed to speak.

  Yay! Go her!

  Now if she could just remember how to speak some other words she might manage to get out of here without making a complete fool of herself.

  He didn’t help her loss of brain function. He just stood there, staring down at her with a quizzical look on his stunning face, watching her as though she were puzzle. Couldn’t he help her out by saying something? Then she might just remember why she was here, or what her own name was.

  They continued to stare at each other. Say something. Anything.

  “Brownies. Eden. Hi. Shirt.”

  Oh for fucks sake. This was ridiculous.

  “What?” he asked, his forehead puckering into a confused frown. She didn’t blame him. She’d have been better off remaining mute.

  She pointed at the plate of brownies he still held. Probably worried if he handed them back that she’d just drop them on his foot. Huh, maybe she should focus on his feet or legs. A part of him that was less...distracting.

  Really, she couldn’t be the only one struck dumb by the sight of him. Or perhaps she was. Maybe this was what happened when you reached the ripe old age of thirty-two without ever having had an orgasm. One day you just saw a cute guy and snapped.

  “Salted caramel. Double chocolate.”

  Two word sentences now. She was improving.

  He stared down at the plate of chocolate gooiness as though he’d never seen a brownie in his life. Maybe he didn’t eat them. A man who looked like he did probably lived on skinless chicken breast and salad. She sighed. That thought more than anything else brought her back into focus. She could never be with a man who didn’t eat. Like, eat eat. She loved to eat. She couldn’t bake without sampling the goods. Nope, it was obvious he was one of those clean-eating people. Even worse, he was probably the type to lecture her about empty calories and carrying extra weight.

  Yep, they’d never work.

  Too bad.

  She sighed.

  “Over before we began.”

  “What?” he repeated. His voice had grown deeper, his eyes darkening with irritation.

  Right. Because she was acting like a twit. No doubt she looked like a complete idiot staring at him like he was a triple layer chocolate cake with dark chocolate ganache and whipped cream.

  Her face grew even hotter. What was wrong with her? Like he’d even look twice at her. She was soft, round, and awkward. He was a god. Hard. Chiseled. And really pissed off if his scowl was any indication.

  “I’m Eden Summers, I live next door. I made you some brownies.”

  Whew.

  She smiled, pleased with herself for managing to actually sound normal.

  “Are you ill?” he asked.

  What?

  He reached out and placed one large, cool hand over her forehead. She should have pushed him away, should have shied back. But as soon as his hand made contact with her skin a sense of rightness fell over her. As though her body had been waiting for his touch. Which was ridiculous. But she couldn’t deny the way arousal flooded her. Her clit throbbed incessantly, cream coated the lips of her pussy as her nipples pressed against her bra.

  Oh fuck.

  “Female? Female, are you unwell?”

  Her breath coming in haggard gasps, she managed to fight her way through the need tormenting her and grabbed hold of his wrist. She tugged his hand away from her face. Then let him go. That helped. A little. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs.

  “Female? Do you need me to get one of those vehicles with the siren? Do you require medical assistance? Female?”

  Why did he keep calling her female? And what did he mean, vehicle with a siren? Oh, was he talking about an ambulance?

  “I’m not ill,” she managed to tell him. No, just horny as hell. This was so embarrassing. She forced herself to take a step back, away from him. She looked longingly over at her apartment door. It wouldn’t take much to get back inside.

  And then she’d simply never leave. Ever. Again.

  Until he moved, that was. And maybe not even then.

  “Then what is wrong with you? You are bright red and sweating.”

  What was wrong with her? Good question. She needed to get laid. That was the only explanation she had for her bizarre reaction to him.

  “I…ah…sorry, I haven’t had much sleep lately.”

  Good. Get things back on track.

  “And I…ahhh….”

  He sigh
ed. A long, drawn out affair.

  Right. Now he was really irritated. And she was acting like an idiot. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She could still salvage this conversation. And if not, well, she had her back-up plan of hiding in her apartment for the next fifty years.

  “I’m sorry. Let me start over. I’m Eden. I live next door.” She pointed over at her apartment door. He just stared at her, his face expressionless. “What’s your name?”

  “Marcun.”

  “Marcun? That’s a cool name. Unusual. I like it.” You’re talking too much. “I own a bakery, called Mad Batter. It’s a few blocks over, maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  No reaction. Silly Eden, of course he hadn’t heard of it. He’d only moved into the building a few days ago.

  “Umm anyway, I thought that since we’re neighbors, I’d bake you some goodies to welcome you to the building.”

  Finally, she’d managed to remember that she was here for a reason. She needed to stick to the script instead of going off on a tangent, even if that tangent was incredibly hot and delicious.

  “You wish to welcome me to this building?” He looked at her incredulously.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I know this place isn’t the Ritz, but it’s a roof over our heads, right?”

  She wondered how he’d ended up here. He didn’t look like a pimp or a drug dealer. Eddie, the drug dealer across the hall always looked ill and hungover. This guy didn’t smell like booze or weed. He didn’t look sleazy or like a criminal.

  Oh yeah, and how do you expect a pimp or a criminal to look, Eden?

  Not like this guy, anyway.

  “The Ritz?” He looked confused.

  “The hotel chain? Somehow, I get the feeling you’re not from around here, are you?”

  For a moment he looked alarmed. Was that an accent she’d detected? Was English his second language? It would explain why he kept calling her female. And maybe that’s why he was here. Perhaps he was an illegal immigrant. Even though his English was really good, she was probably speaking too fast for him to understand her clearly.

  “Are you not supposed to be here?”

  His eyes widened and she figured she’d hit things on the head.

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I won’t tell anyone that you’re an alien.”

  “An alien?” His voice sounded strangled with panic. Yep, she’d definitely got it right. Poor guy looked like he’d just swallowed something rotten.

  She reached out and patted his arm soothingly. Funny, now that she knew his secret she felt much more at ease around him. “Don’t look so panicked. Honestly, I’m not going to tell the authorities that you’re here illegally. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “My secret?”

  “There are several other illegal aliens in this building as well, you know.”

  His eyes widened. “You have seen them?”

  “Yes, of course. You really shouldn’t worry, we all know about them but people around here keep to their own business. So no one will bother you.”

  Marcun stared down at the small female, lost for words. How did she know? He thought he had done well at pretending to be a human. But apparently, she had seen through his act immediately. He had thought his grasp of their language perfect. The translator chip was obviously failing. And how had she managed to spot Tecan and Sacaren? They had never mentioned seeing her, but they were the only aliens he had encountered in the five days he had been on Earth.

  What should he do?

  She stretched, trying to peer around him into his apartment. Her approaching him was not something he had factored in. He had never imagined that she would figure out who he was. Had her mate somehow gotten a message to her? No, that didn’t make sense. If that was the case, she would be running away from him. She wouldn’t be knocking on his door.

  “This apartment comes furnished, right?” she asked. “How much did Joe charge you?”

  “Five hundred,” he answered absent-mindedly while going over the options in his head. What should his next move be? She knew what he was. Probably knew what Sacaren and Tecan were.

  He narrowed his gaze as he studied her. She was so tiny. The top of her head didn’t even reach midway up his chest. And those eyes. He’d felt the impact of her stare as soon as he’d opened his door. Like two blue jewels staring up at him. Almost translucent, they were so light. He had felt them like a punch to his stomach. It had taken him longer than he would ever admit to recover from the impact of her stare.

  He still did not understand why she was here or why she had bought him … what did she call them? Brownies? He peered down at the items on the plate, sniffing experimentally. His stomach chose that moment to rumble, reminding him that he had not eaten for a while.

  “Five hundred a month? That bastard.” She scowled. “He’s ripping you off.”

  “Ripping me off?”

  He pondered that statement. “He did not try to rip anything from me.”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean he’s charging you too much. He’s taking advantage of the fact that you won’t complain because you won’t want to draw attention to yourself and he’s demanding too much money.”

  “The owner of the building has asked for too many cre…ah, cash?”

  “Yes.” She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. “That asshole takes every opportunity he can to rip someone off. And he’s not the owner. He just gets to live here for free by acting as a super. He’s supposed to fix stuff when it breaks but he never does. I’ve had a leaking faucet in my bathroom since I moved in here. He’s done nothing about it.”

  “He is supposed to take care of you and has not?” What sort of male was he?

  “Not take care of me personally, but the building. But he’s gone too far now. Don’t you worry, I’ll get your money back for you.”

  She reached out and patted his arm and he finally realized that she was going to speak to the male on his behalf.

  She was trying to take care of him? Did she not realize that things should work the opposite way? He was stronger. Faster. Smarter. And he did not need her to take care of him. The idea was almost laughable.

  “Have you had any problems finding jobs that pay under the table?”

  Why would they need to pay under the table? He shook his head, perhaps it was some weird human ritual.

  “No, you haven’t? That’s good. Oh.” She gave him a strange look and her cheeks turned red again. He was not so certain that she wasn’t ill. She certainly seemed hot and clammy. “You’re not making money by … um … selling yourself?”

  “Selling myself?”

  For Gods’ sake, Eden. Why did you go and ask him that?

  Ah, maybe because she’d come over here to ask him to keep it down. That’s why she’d made the brownies after all. His stomach made a grumbling sound. She felt a surge of sympathy. Why had he come here? Was he on his own? Did he have family? Were they back in his home country? Maybe he was here to make money to send back to his family, his wife.

  But no. If he had a wife then surely he wouldn’t be sleeping around. Or was she just being horribly naïve?

  “What do you mean, selling myself?”

  “Um…nothing, never mind.” Distraction. She needed a distraction. Or to leave and never talk to him again. That would be smart.

  “Would you like to come to dinner?” she blurted out. And that was not what she meant to say.

  “What?”

  “Not as a date or anything,” she added hastily. “You probably have a girlfriend and all.”

  “I do not.”

  “Oh well, it’s just…you know…you’re obviously down on your luck and I made too much dinner as usual. You’d really be helping me out. Stop me from eating too much.”

  Eden. Stop. Talking.

  “Of course, you don’t have to. Just ignore me. You probably have other plans. Things to do. People to see. Um, hope you enjoy the brownies.”

  He looked sk
eptically down at them. “What do you do with it?”

  “You’ve never had brownies?” she asked in shock. “You eat them.”

  His face went blank. Good one, Eden. You probably just insulted the poor guy. She reached out and patted his hand. “Just try them. See if you like them. And if you ever need a job then come and see me at the bakery. I’m sure we can work out something. Something better than what you’ve been doing.”

  Leave, Eden. Now.

  “What have I been doing?”

  “You know…” she whispered, looking around as though someone was going to magically appear and save her from having this embarrassing conversation.

  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. Oh my God, his biceps had to be larger than her thighs. And considering the size of her thighs, that was really saying something.

  She forced herself to start breathing again. Although passing out might actually be a relief right now.

  “I do not believe I do.”

  “Surely you’ve noticed how thin the walls are and how you can hear every little thing between our apartments.”

  His eyes widened. “That is how you know what I am? You heard?”

  Lord, just create a hole and swallow her up. Please. Put her out of her misery.

  “Yes,” she managed to get out. “Yes, I can hear everything. I have to admit I was starting to wonder if you were a pimp, but you know, now I know what’s really going on…well, I get that everyone has to make a living, but, um, like I said, if you want something different come see me. If you don’t then could you could keep it down? I’d really appreciate it as I start work early and it’s hard to get to sleep with all the…the…oh God I have to go now.”

  She spun away and practically raced back to her place. She closed the door then leaned back against it with a groan. Placing her hands over her face, she slid to the floor with a thump.

  Idiot. Idiot.

  If she could have embarrassed herself any more then she wasn’t certain how.

  Maybe moving in with her mother wasn’t the worst idea in the world. At least until the hunk next door moved away.