She turned bright red and her smile faded a bit as she turned away from me and found some busy work behind the counter.
I’d pushed her far enough for one day, I supposed. My beast growled in disagreement as I moved to sit down in a seat in the corner, far from both her and the door. I turned my chair so I could pretend not to notice as her glance wandered to me over and over. My beast fought me, hard, but I was not an animal. Not yet. I didn’t want her afraid.
I wanted her hungry. Hot. Ready for my touch and my cock.
That first day, she’d offered me a hand-held food cone filled with vanilla ice cream. The next day, chocolate. Each day I visited, she gave me a new flavor. After weeks of visiting, I hadn’t tried all the possibilities. I didn’t give a shit about them. All I cared about was seeing her smile at my arrival, the brush of our fingers as she passed me the dessert which was meant to offer cooling relief from the hot Florida air.
I wouldn’t cool. Not until she was mine. Until I sank into her, filled her with my seed. Claimed her.
I was content. For now. We talked; each day I learned more about her. An only child, she had lived in Florida her entire life. Her parents were dead, although she didn’t share details of their demise. The ice cream store was not hers, she was the manager. Her dream was to own her own store, rather than work for another, although I learned she did not have the wealth to follow that passion.
This made her vulnerable. Working for another. Dependent on that human’s attitude or whim. I did not like knowing my female was at the mercy of another for survival.
No. I would win her. Claim her. I would take care of her.
If she’d have me.
But not here. We could not mate and live on Earth. The human government would not allow such a union. She would need to be willing to leave Earth behind forever. Her life. Her neighbor’s orange cat, whose photo was taped to the wall behind the register. I had discovered the creature was called Pumpkin—named after an Earth vegetable of the same color.
The fact that a scratching, hissing creature that killed small mammals and birds would be her favorite pet gave me hope that she could learn to love my beast as well.
If not for Gabriela—I loved knowing her name and rolled it around in my mind—I had no reason to return to Atlan. A few cousins were all the family I had. The promise of wealth and riches, estates awarded to a Warlord who had been lucky enough to survive both the Hive and his Mating Fever. I would be wealthy, if I returned home. I could care for her on Atlan, make her happy. Give her a palace and fine clothes, servants to clean the dishes, rather than see her hands rough and reddened from such hard work. I wanted to give her enough money to pursue
