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

Bayne’s naked hip grazes mine with every step as we slowly walk the hallways to my cabin. When I slide my arm around his waist to steady him, I realize how tall he is.

My arm, rather than circling his waist, is beneath it. His skin is hot, warmer than a human’s. I’m trying not to stare, but I catch glimpses of him from my peripheral vision. He’s tall and tan and perfectly built. His shoulders are wide, his waist narrow, and his hip bones are visible beneath his skin.

It’s not his hip bones, though, that fascinate me. It’s his cock that has captured my attention. It’s bobbing at his hips, semi-hard and huge, jutting from an inviting thatch of brown hair.

Forcing my attention away, I try to find something in the hallway that’s half as interesting. Fat chance. I look up to notice we’re at our destination.

“Here we are.” I palm the entry plate and help him onto the bed.

“Piss,” he says, pointedly looking at the bathroom door.

I help him there and leave him at the doorway.

“Gods.” I hear a few minutes later. “It’s been annums, perhaps a decade.”

He must have gotten a good look at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t know how, can you turn the shower on?” he calls.

My mind is still reeling from this new turn of events. At first, I was consumed with escaping the arena and evading the authorities in case they came to confiscate the male. Then I was fearful as I watched the medbot remove the hardware lodged near his delicate spinal nerves. I never allowed the impact of what happened to actually hit me.

I slip into the bathroom and turn on the shower, then return to plop on the bed. My mind spins until he returns to the room. During the entire time I should have been deciding what to do about the humanoid who’s expecting to share my bed, all I could think about was what he might be doing to his cock in the shower, or what I might do to that cock when he returns.

The huntsman! The huntsman from this morning bore a shocking resemblance to Bayne.

How could I have dreamed of Bayne this morning? My mind searches for answers, but I haven’t a clue. What I do know is that this Earth girl is on a spaceship a million miles from home. And I know there are dozens, perhaps hundreds of alien species out there whose appearance and powers are things I couldn’t have dreamed of.

What I do know is that all the knowledge I possess doesn’t fill a thimble. What I do know is that as sure as I’m sitting here, I dreamed about Bayne this morning. And I wanted him. And I orgasmed thinking about him.

The bathroom door opens and Bayne’s wide shoulders practically fill the doorway. He’s nude. He hasn’t even slung a towel around his hips. I guess I shouldn't make too much of that, he hasn’t worn clothes for a decade by his reckoning.

“Want a nap? You’ve been through a lot,” I say as I leap off the bed toward the far wall, keeping the bed between Bayne and me.

“Bed. Yes.”

He slides between the sheets and gazes at me in silent invitation. There’s something about the way he swivels his head that’s vaguely canine. I imagine I’ll notice a lot of things like that as I get to know him.

“I don’t remember much,” he says as he pats the mattress, beckoning me. “But I remember some things. I know you petted me all the time. Your touch was soft and gentle. Things in shifted form get fuzzy when I return as Bayne. But I . . . remember this morning.”

This morning. This morning’s little masturbation session. He watched. As I recall, when I was done pleasuring myself his nose was inches from mine. Great. He remembers that.

Chapter Three

Bayne

I ache. Deep in my bones. The ache is warm and tight and unrelenting. Nothing feels right. My teeth don’t seem to fit in my mouth correctly, my fingers feel too long, and all the vivid colors hurt my eyes.

My thoughts are swirling. I vaguely remember people I think were my parents, but my childhood is like a swirling black hole with more questions than answers.

There were so many years in my canine form. By the male’s face who looked at me in the mirror, it’s been more than a decade. I remember the spiked collar I wore on my neck and the smell of metal that was never far from my nose.

There were fights. I remember those. Perhaps I’m remembering all of them, because there were many. So many. If what I remember is only a portion, I fought a lot. So much blood. Thankfully most of it was my opponents’. I can taste the metallic tang in my mouth. I remember some respite, some moments or days in two-legged form, but so much time was spent on all-fours.

You’re back! My inner dog says with joy and excitement. So much pain. Fight. Kill. Pain. He is practically howling. Then Willa came. She saved us. She stroked us and hugged us. 

It’s been so long since I could talk to my inner beast I am practically vibrating with joy.

Yes. We’re finally free.

This bed is blissfully soft, especially compared to sleeping on the cold stone of cells and cages for the duration of my captivity.

And then there’s Willa. Willa of soft hands and softer voice. After so many years in my shifted form, I couldn’t think properly, couldn’t understand many of her words, but I knew her. I knew she wouldn't hurt me. I felt her caring, her concern.

I know the scent of her arousal. It was strong on her this morning. I remember that. There