Tammy
Like a bad penny, he kept coming back.
The horn blared again outside, each blast like a nail being hammered directly into my temple.
Derek. Three honks, pause, repeat. His signature move.
I’d once found it endearing, back when I thought his impatience was passion rather than entitlement.
Now it felt like the audio equivalent of a dog marking its territory.
I watched Cyro’s tentacles writhe with protective rage, the iridescent sheen beneath his human disguise intensifying as his emotions ran high.
If tentacles could speak, his would be screaming obscenities.
“I know you want to help, but just stay in here,” I told Cyro, my voice steadier than my hands. “I’ll go see what that asshole wants.”
“This male has caused you distress.” Cyro’s voice carried that slight echo quality it always did when he was upset, his human facade slipping.
A ripple of pastel colors flashed across his neck—the otherworldly equivalent of flushing with anger.
“His presence is unwelcome. Let me remove him from your territory.”
I held up my hand, palm out. “No. I’ve been handling Derek Morgan long before you crash-landed in my horse trough. I need to do this myself.”
Cyro’s metallic-sheened eyes narrowed, but he nodded once, a jerky motion that telegraphed his reluctance. His tentacles retracted beneath his skin. The double lenses in his eyes flicked over once, betraying his agitation.
The horn sounded again, more insistent. Of course. God forbid Derek wait like a normal person.
I straightened my shoulders and marched toward the door, pausing only to check my reflection in the small entryway mirror. My red hair was a tangled mess, my eyes still puffy from crying. Perfect. Let him see what he’d done.
The screen door slammed behind me with a satisfying bang as I stepped onto the porch.
The late afternoon sun hit me straight in the eyes, momentarily blinding me.
When my vision cleared, I saw Derek’s oversized truck idling in my driveway, its glossy black finish gleaming like an oil spill against the dusty backdrop of my ranch.
The truck was new. Of course it was. Derek measured his success in horsepower and chrome detailing.
As I appeared, the driver’s door swung open and out stepped my ex-fiancé, his movements calculated for maximum impact.
Derek always entered a room—or in this case, a yard—like he was being filmed for a cologne commercial.
Pressed jeans that probably cost more than my monthly feed bill.
Crisp button-down with just enough buttons undone to be inappropriate for anything but a nightclub.
Leather boots that had never seen an actual day’s work.
His smile widened when he spotted me, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. A predator’s smile. It never reached his eyes.
“There she is,” he called out, spreading his arms wide like we were in some twisted reunion show. “The stubborn little filly herself.”
I didn’t move from the porch. Height advantage. Never give it up when dealing with snakes. “What do you want, Derek?”
He approached with that swagger that used to make my heart skip.
Now it made my stomach clench. “Can’t a man check in on his favorite neighbor?
” His eyes roamed over me, assessing. “Though you’re looking a little rough around the edges these days, darlin’.
Running this place into the ground taking its toll? ”
“Cut the crap.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”
Derek’s smile tightened at the corners. He never did like when I didn’t play along with his games.
“Word travels fast in a small town. Heard you got a call from Farmers & Merchants today.” He tsked, shaking his head like I was a child who’d made a mess.
“Foreclosure’s such an ugly business. All those papers, all those lawyers. Not to mention the humiliation.”
My blood turned to ice water in my veins. How the hell did he know about the bank call already? It had been less than an hour.
“Your concern is touching,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue. “But I’ll manage.”
“Will you?” He was at the bottom of the porch steps now, looking up at me with what someone who didn’t know better might mistake for genuine concern.
“Because from where I’m standing, you need about sixty thousand dollars by next Friday, or you’ll be loading those two worthless horses into a trailer and looking for a studio apartment in town. ”
My hands clenched into fists so tight I felt my nails bite into my palms. Worthless horses. As if Mystery and Sassafras were just inventory, not living, breathing creatures I’d poured my heart and savings into. As if the foal they might now produce wasn’t my last, best hope.
“I’ve got options,” I lied.
“Do you?” Derek climbed the first step, then the second. Too close now. Close enough that I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and money. “Because I’ve got sixty-five thousand dollars in options just waiting for you.”
My mouth went dry. Sixty-five thousand. More than enough to save the ranch.
Hell, I’d be set for a year. I could pay for the artificial insemination.
I had to think practically. The aliens weren’t staying forever.
Just because Mystery and Sassafras were finally coupled didn’t mean anything yet.
It’s not like the broodmare was pregnant.
“And what would that money cost me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
His smile spread wider, more genuine now that he sensed weakness.
“Just dinner. A conversation about our future. That gorgeous little body of yours back where it belongs—in my bed.” He reached out, his fingertips grazing my cheek before I could jerk away.
“You can keep playing cowgirl if that’s what gets you off.
But we both know you need a man to handle the business end of things. ”
Pride and panic waged war in my chest. I needed that money. The ranch needed that money. Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d sacrificed—it would all be gone in a week without it. I could endure one night with Derek if it meant saving Sunflower Hills.
No. No, I couldn’t. Because it wouldn’t be just one night. It never was with Derek. He’d use the money to collar me as surely as if he’d wrapped a leash around my neck.
“The desperation looks cute on you,” Derek said, climbing the final step so we were face to face.
“Not as cute as you looked in that little black dress at the cattlemen’s gala last year, but it’s got its own charm.
” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear.
“Just say the word, and all your problems disappear. All you have to do is admit you can’t do this without me. ”
A tenuous cord inside me snapped. I’d rather burn the ranch to the ground myself than give Derek the satisfaction of rescuing me.
I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his sixty-five thousand dollars when his expression changed.
His eyes widened, then narrowed to slits as he focused on an object over my shoulder.
I turned, finding Cyro in his perfect human disguise, striding silently down the front steps. His movements were too fluid to be human, but only someone looking for oddities would notice.
Relief flooded through me. I’d told him to stay inside, but in that moment, I couldn’t remember why. Safety in numbers seemed like a much better plan when facing Derek Morgan.
Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Vantor was approaching from the direction of the stables, his imposing superhero-esque form seeming bigger than ever. From the opposite direction, near the equipment shed, Kalith emerged, his carved features set in determination.
My alien cavalry had arrived, summoned by some unspoken alarm system that I suspected had everything to do with the distress pheromones they claimed humans emitted. For once, I was grateful for their alien super-senses.
Derek hadn’t noticed the other two yet. His attention was fixed solely on Cyro, sizing him up like a bull encountering a rival for the first time. I turned back to face my ex, a new confidence straightening my spine.
“Actually, Derek,” I said, “I think you should leave. Now.”
Derek’s jaw tightened as Cyro positioned himself beside me.
He’d never liked competition. In the past, if a man so much as smiled at me across a bar, I’d spend the whole night listening to whispered accusations about my supposed flirting.
Now here was Cyro—tall, otherworldly handsome despite his human disguise—standing close enough that our shoulders touched.
I felt the subtle shift in temperature that always came when he was agitated, his alien body heat rising to meet the challenge.
For one horrifying moment, I thought my inner Omega was going to riot, sending me into a violent heat right then and there.
I had to swallow hard, concentrating with all my might to calm down, so I wouldn’t absolutely lose it.
All I needed was for Derek to see me get soaked with slick.
Asshole would probably think it was because of him.
I couldn’t stop the blush crawling up my cheeks, no matter how much I tried to regulate my breathing. I felt my face catch fire as Cyro shifted just a fraction, pressing more firmly into me. Oh, Jupiter help me, I was two seconds away from jumping Cyro’s bones in front of Derek!
I could practically feel the lava rising off Cyro, his Alpha cologne pouring out in heady waves.
He was right there, his presence grounding me, yet also igniting searing need I desperately tried to shove out of my mind.
Arms. Legs. Tentacles. His ability to shapeshift into…
anything. The possibilities clouded my good sense.
Even with Derek’s smug face right in front of me, I wanted to forget the chaos and dive into whatever potent mix of alien chemistry Cyro and I were brewing.
If Kalith and Vantor showed up, I’d be a lost cause.
But leave it to Derek to kill my mood with one sentence.
“You still blush like crazy for me, Tammy.” His gaze had darkened, not with anger, but with odious desire.
One time, I’d thought he was the most attractive man on Earth.
Now, looking at the sheen across his brow, the mottled tan from the fake tanner he insisted ‘evened out the sun’s work’, and the teeth he had whitened yet again—seeing as how they are jarringly, unnaturally white—I only felt revulsion. Not a single ounce of attraction.
He leaned forward, causing Cyro to automatically wrap one human arm around me, tugging me into his side.
The sight of that only made Derek pause momentarily in his advance.
He pressed onward, running his calloused finger down my bare arm.
I shivered, and not with desire. This man was repulsive.
He’d always been, but now I was sane enough to see it.
“Admit it, baby. You can’t live without me.
Drop this crazy act, stop pretending these guys mean three shits to you, and come home.
I’ll have the bank paid in a matter of hours.
Hell, we can even keep this place if you don’t want to sell it.
It can be your pet project. With my help, you can’t fail. ”
Even though my need for Cyro still existed as smoldering embers in my tightened belly, my hatred for Derek was enough to overpower it and clear my head.
“No,” I said simply. I didn’t offer further explanation. He didn’t deserve it.
But… I knew better than to think Derek would accept a one-word answer. Even if it was a complete, firm sentence.
“You know you don’t mean that, Tam-Tam.” He brushed one finger down my cheek now.
I flinched away, Cyro’s arm wrapping further around me.
Almost… too far. God, I hoped he hadn’t forgotten to keep his tentacles looking human.
I risked a glance down, breathing a shallow sigh of relief to see the very large male hand pressed against my abdomen.
“No,” I said again, with all the conviction I could muster, but Derek didn’t flinch.
His arrogance flowed over me like a filthy oil slick, and as that jaw of his tightened, I could only feel my resolve hardening further.
“I won’t be bought. Not by you. Not now.
Not ever. I never should have been with you in the first place, Derek. You. Don’t. Deserve me.”
“Come on, Tammy,” he grinned, the kind of smile that promised manipulation and danger.
The kind that didn’t reach his cold, calculating eyes.
Because to Derek, I wasn’t a person. I was his object.
I still was, despite cutting the cord months ago.
“This is about the reality of your situation.” The way he leaned in close—too close—made me want to recoil, but I stood my ground.
I wished Cyro would loosen his hold so I could back away. Even the smell of Derek’s breath was making me nauseous.
But Cyro didn’t let me back away. He made me stand my ground. He also reached out one muscled, thick arm and pressed one giant palm against Derek’s chest. Cyro’s beefy fingers splayed out, enveloping one pectoral muscle and beyond.
Derek glanced down in surprise. His brow furrowed. His lip curled.
“Get your damn hand off me,” he snarled.
“Step back from Tammy,” Cyro said clearly, without aggression.
“She’s my girl,” Derek spat, “I’ll get as close as I fucking want.”
“You can try.” Was all the response Cyro offered as he stared Derek down.
Maybe I imagined it, but I saw real fear flash through Derek’s haughty eyes.
Then, for one horrifying moment, I thought my ex was going to get into a punching match with my alien.
Maybe if it was Vantor, I’d not be worried.
But Cyro was the quintessential pocket square, pencil toting nerd.
His human guise might be a tall glass of water with muscles for days, but I wasn’t sure that would translate in a fight.
Crap.