by Michele Oberlander
Genetic slave traders had finally found us, found Earth, and the richest commodity sought in the universe – pure human DNA. I knew I was safe. They wouldn't take me because I'm not human. Oh sure, I look it, but as they say, looks are deceiving. I love that Earth saying. Whoever authored that axiom could never have foreseen how far reaching and accurate its truth could be.
I'm still in danger, however, because I represent a threat – or at least I would if the slavers knew I was here. And they wouldn't until it was too late – for them.
"Hey, Denny," whispered the man lying by my side in forest detritus. "What do you make of that?"
I slid my eyes over to my partner, Special Agent Arnold Clark. Arnie was one-of-a-kind and I loved him, but he would never know.
I whispered back, "It's a spaceship." I knew obvious statements ticked him off, but I did it anyway. A girl needed to get her kicks where she could.
"Knock it off, Agent Dennison. This is a Code Red situation. We need to know if these guys are friendlies or tangos."
"You mean E.T.'s or War of the Worlds?"
I lived for these moments between us. My twisted comments both amused and irritated Arnie, but they also cut the stress and helped keep our emotions in check. I was good at my job because of what I was and what it allowed me to do. But it also robbed me of the one thing I wanted above all – the secret light of my life, human Arnold Clark.
Arnie propped up his NVG's (night vision goggles) and glared at me in the dark. I could feel the weight of his gaze boring into me. Even in the middle of this new threat, his gaze didn't intimidate me. Instead it spiked the yearning inside me for his strength, his passion and his single mindedness. I've daydreamed – imagined all that intensity being directed solely at me, taking me in a shower stall, loving me on a kitchen counter or tumbling onto a bed. It left me tingling and wanting but imagination was all I had. All I would ever have because Arnold Clark was a dedicated agent. He'd never been inappropriate with me. And he was human, damn it.
Oh Lordette, he's leaning towards me. Is he going to…?
"Denny, guestimate. Why do you think they're here?"
I gulped. I realized with startling clarity my next words would change my life. Feelings of despair stabbed the length of my spine and heart like shards of icicles. I feared what I was about to lose with my answer. But answer I did.
"They're tangos, Agent Clark. H.G. Wells wasn't even close to imagining how bad aliens can get."
I saw it then – the wariness, the stillness. Yes, Arnold Clark's attention was finally on me, wholly and completely; it felt like shit.
"And you know this…how?"
His sharp tone sliced at the tether of my tears. He moved so fast, his large hands gripped my shoulders and pulled me close before I could even blink.
"Why are you so sure, Agent Dennison?” His breath scorched my ear. "Tell me."
The burn of anger mixed with panic and I shuddered from the effort to control my emotions. I knew what I had to do. I hated it, I feared it, but in the end I was Agent Xoxy Dennison of Earth's Homeland Security and…
"I'm Agent Xoxy Dennison, I.G.P.A."
Arnie's right hand lifted from my shoulder to my NVG's and pulled them roughly off of me. I practically jumped out of my skin at the vision before me.
"Oh, Lordette. Arnie…your eyes…" My voice trailed off as I stared at him. I marveled at the midnight blue glow lighting his gaze. My night vision goggles had prevented me from seeing what was right in front of my face when he'd taken off his.
"So, what's a nice agent from the Interplanetary Genetic Protection Agency doing on a little backwards planet like Earth?"
Before I could process why my heart stuttered at his words, both our attentions were snagged by a shout. Grunts and arrogant boasting from a group of genetic pirates lumbering into the clearing provided the proof I needed to do my job - my real job. Between them they carried in six unconscious females into view of the spotlights from the ship and my spine stiffened like cold tempered steel.
"That." My voice was low and firm. I was proud that it didn't betray the tremors of hope that yet danced over my body despite the gravity of the situation. That lasted until Arnie took hold of my chin, angled my head the way he wanted it and mashed his firm lips onto my startled but very willing mouth.
"This kiss,' Arnie's husky voice caressed me, "is the first of many, Xoxy. Take that as a promise and a guarantee from Enforcer Agent Arnussum Clark, I.G.P.A."
"Holy Lord and Lordette! You're really not human?"
He slammed a warm hand over my mouth and chuckled with dark promise in my eager ear.
"Right. My DNA is humanoid like yours, unwanted by genetic pirates but very compatible to you."
I tried to fight my attraction, but Enforcer Agent Clark wasn't done with me.
"And the smell of your desire has been driving me nuts for months. Initially I thought you were human and untouchable." He leaned in and nipped my bottom lip in gentle admonishment. "You were very convincing as a human."
I shivered, giddy with relief and anticipation. And he was still Arnie.
"Well, you know what they say, 'looks are deceiving.'" I smartly patted his smooth cheek.
Arnussen Clark smiled a shit-eating grin, pulled out his I.G.P.A. regulation blaster from the hidden holster behind his back and jerked his head motioning his intent.
I pulled my own blaster from a similar holder and smiled back. Arnie was definitely one-of-a-kind. Mine.
About the author: Michele is a wife, a mother, a part time office manager in a legal office, and an aspiring author. She became hooked on blogging two years ago when she contacted a favorite romance author. Inspired into creating her own blog, she has never looked back. She's a voracious reader of romances and that passion led her to become a reviewer for LASR. Many stories and heroes swirl in her head but finds learning the writing craft as adventurous as any daring-do experienced by her characters. Writing is akin to taking risks: the roller coaster ups and downs, the eureka moments when something works, and the need for chocolate when things go bump; all in the pursuit of a dream. And through it all, she feels it's worth it. For what is writing if not having fun with your dreams and sharing it with others?