WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series Alana Khan (i like reading TXT) 📖

in on hovers, provided advanced arms to a neighboring tribe, and incited them to destroy us so the five of them could swoop in and get what they came for—rare fighting stock.

I need to remember who my enemies are—and find them.

In the meantime, I’ve lost so much. Don’t I deserve a female? Don’t I deserve the comfort of soft arms? Don’t I deserve to sheathe myself in her warm channel and find pleasure there?

Don’t I deserve to connect on a deep level with one other being in this galaxy? A female who showed me her compassion many times, albeit only to my canine.

Yes, replies WarDog, take her, mate her, bite her, make her ours.

My decision of a few hoaras ago still stands. Patience, I admonish my enthusiastic beast. I’m going to pursue the female who has invaded my dreams and consumed every waking thought since I was freed from the prison of my canine form. I have to gain her trust and hopefully her affections will follow. I hear a chuff of agreement at this plan.

Willa

When I arrive at the dining room, most of the furniture is pushed against the walls. A small spread of party food, as well as ruby-colored punch, is on one of the long tables. I see Bayne talking to Stryker along the back wall. He’s in profile, perhaps so he can see everyone who enters.

He doesn't look directly at me, but I know he saw me enter. The corners of my lips lift in a tiny smile because his ear flicked toward me, then he stood a little taller and threw his shoulders back when he sensed my presence.

One thing is certain, that male is handsome. His broad chest is naked except for the black leather sash stretching from one shoulder to the opposite side of his waist. It’s sexier than if he was completely bare because it calls attention to every muscle and ripple.

If anything, he’s stronger and more muscular than the first time I saw him in his humanoid form. He’s wearing a black leather kilt like many of the males on board. It doesn’t reach his knees, and accentuates his strong calves.

At first, I thought the pelt on his shoulders was a little Cro-Magnon, but over the last month, watching him at meals and stalking through the halls, I’ve come to think it accentuates his masculinity, and also his differences.

I’m in space. It’s full of aliens. This isn’t an Earth male. He’s part canine. I appreciate everything about him that underscores our diversity.

I mingle, doing my best to be upbeat and happy, all the while keeping an eye on Bayne. As soon as his conversation with Stryker comes to an end, I’m going to approach him. Carpe Diem! I’m going to seize the day.

“Can you believe it’s only been a few lunars since we were in that cell on the slave ship together?” Ar’Tok asks. He was a quiet male when we met. Now he’s found love and come out of his shell. There’s a broad smile on his face—certainly something I never imagined that day we were in an epic space battle and ultimately rescued by the gladiators on this ship.

“I think we’ve all done a lot of growing since then,” I say with a smile. I’m so engrossed in our conversation as we recount all the changes we’ve experienced, that I take my eye off Bayne for a moment. When I glance toward the back of the room, I don’t see him. I hope he hasn't retreated to his cabin.

“Willa, would you like some punch?” It’s Bayne. He slipped up on me quietly and is at my elbow, offering me a glass.

“Yes. Thanks.” I believe these are the first words we’ve exchanged since I kicked him out of my cabin. My fingers actually tremble as I accept the glass. He’s bigger than I remember, or maybe it’s because he’s so close. Heat radiates off him. I feel pulled to him as if he’s a planet with his own gravity.

I take a sip and realize the fruity red punch packs a kick. Normally not a drinker, I decide tonight would be a good time to treat myself to a glass—or two.

My mind swirls with thoughts and questions. I want to say so many things. What I do, however, is bite my bottom lip with my teeth and feel excitement eddy through my body. Then we both talk at once. I didn’t hear what he said.

“Awkward,” I admit, then look into those golden eyes for the first time tonight. Maybe I’m crazy, but I think I understand every thought racing through his brain. No, that’s not right. But I think I know his feelings. The emotion pouring out of the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen is affection. He’s lobbing it at me, propelling at me all the caring and concern I can handle.

Our awkward conversation gets worse before it gets better. I ask him how he’s been and he tells me “fine.” He asks me what I’ve been doing and I have nothing to report. What is there to say? I’ve been helping the other women do the things they’re good at because I have no strengths of my own? Or should I admit I’ve spent a great deal of time regretting kicking him out of my cabin?

It doesn’t help that people are watching us. I’m sure we’ve been the talk of our little ship. He was my constant companion from the day we boarded the Fool’s Errand until the day he shifted. Thankfully someone turns on some music, but the awkwardness continues, only now it’s louder.

He grabs my hand in his huge, warm one. It’s like someone plugged me into an electrical current. Something sparks between us. Lust. My gaze flies to his and locks there. I couldn't pull away if I wanted to.

“Come with me?”