Read Online Desired By The Alien by Rosette Lex - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosette Lex
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been part of her playbook, and she wanted to at least come to a proper decision before she completely took one option off the table.
Instead, she shrugged as best she could while lying on her back.
“I felt an itch,” she answered playfully, “and I needed to scratch it.”
Que rolled his eyes. “Good to know I’m an acceptable sex toy,” he drawled in response.
Vivienne reached over to pat his arm sympathetically.
“Don’t worry,” she replied soothingly. “You’re more than just acceptable as a sex toy.” That got a snort of laughter in response.
She rolled onto her side to face him.
“You mind if I stay here tonight?” The words were out before she could even process that she was saying them.
Que blinked at her in surprise, struck silent for a moment. “Sure,” he eventually answered.
“Feel free.”
Both unfamiliar with sleeping with other people, it took them a couple minutes to get settled comfortably. Soon enough, though, Que was pressed to Vivienne’s back, leaving her feeling tiny and sheltered.
Sleep came surprisingly quickly that night.
Chapter Nine
That night, Vivienne dreamed of…dancing. Not like a ballerina or a ballroom dancer, not like anything so graceful or purposeful, but like a puppet, with her limbs jerking out at erratic angles, flailing this way and that. She dreamed of a massive, bodiless hand above her, yanking her strings in all directions, like a show dog being dragged through its paces.
She dreamed of darkness. Of being thrown into a trashcan and left, but always with a little spider dangling above her, watching everything she did, even as the trashcan rattled and shook.
She dreamed of light, as the trashcan trembled and clamored until it fell over, as if the ground had been shaking beneath it, and the lid fell away, letting sunlight as bright as a supernova pour in.
She dreamed of the ground, as she dragged herself forward inch by inch towards the rim of the trashcan, the spider following her every painstaking inch of the way.
She dreamed of hooks and edges, of her puppet strings getting caught and sawed away, and as each string vanished, dragging herself along became that much easier, until the final string snapped with a musical twang and she hauled herself out into daylight.
She dreamed of…reluctance. Lingering by the trashcan, as if it was home, as if it was safe, as if she didn’t want to leave it. The spider stared at her and glared at her and watched her every move, no matter how she shooed it away, and it was always just a bit too far out of reach for her to smash it.
She dreamed of darkness, as shadows crept closer and closer to the trashcan that was familiar, until they reared up and surrounded her.
Like wolves upon a wounded elk, they threw her to the ground and savaged her, tying her puppet strings to her again, whirling her through the air, and letting her crash to the ground again in a pile of splinters and tattered threads. The spider laughed at her as she lay immobile, as the shadows began to stalk closer.
When Vivienne woke with a jolt, looking around quickly to be sure that the shadows of the room were all where they were supposed to be and they weren’t moving in ways they shouldn’t have been, she realized that it was early enough to be considered late, and she sighed in exasperation.
How was she supposed to get back to sleep?
Behind her, Que grunted at her sudden shifting.
With some muttered word salad, he slid one arm around her and pulled her back against him to still her once more, bare skin pressing to bare skin.
‘ I’m being silly ,’ Vivienne thought to herself. ‘ He won’t let anything hurt me .’
She had to pause and contemplate that thought. That it was the thought that occurred her—not ‘nightmares aren’t real’ or ‘that was a ridiculous dream’—was rather telling.
She
Instead, she shrugged as best she could while lying on her back.
“I felt an itch,” she answered playfully, “and I needed to scratch it.”
Que rolled his eyes. “Good to know I’m an acceptable sex toy,” he drawled in response.
Vivienne reached over to pat his arm sympathetically.
“Don’t worry,” she replied soothingly. “You’re more than just acceptable as a sex toy.” That got a snort of laughter in response.
She rolled onto her side to face him.
“You mind if I stay here tonight?” The words were out before she could even process that she was saying them.
Que blinked at her in surprise, struck silent for a moment. “Sure,” he eventually answered.
“Feel free.”
Both unfamiliar with sleeping with other people, it took them a couple minutes to get settled comfortably. Soon enough, though, Que was pressed to Vivienne’s back, leaving her feeling tiny and sheltered.
Sleep came surprisingly quickly that night.
Chapter Nine
That night, Vivienne dreamed of…dancing. Not like a ballerina or a ballroom dancer, not like anything so graceful or purposeful, but like a puppet, with her limbs jerking out at erratic angles, flailing this way and that. She dreamed of a massive, bodiless hand above her, yanking her strings in all directions, like a show dog being dragged through its paces.
She dreamed of darkness. Of being thrown into a trashcan and left, but always with a little spider dangling above her, watching everything she did, even as the trashcan rattled and shook.
She dreamed of light, as the trashcan trembled and clamored until it fell over, as if the ground had been shaking beneath it, and the lid fell away, letting sunlight as bright as a supernova pour in.
She dreamed of the ground, as she dragged herself forward inch by inch towards the rim of the trashcan, the spider following her every painstaking inch of the way.
She dreamed of hooks and edges, of her puppet strings getting caught and sawed away, and as each string vanished, dragging herself along became that much easier, until the final string snapped with a musical twang and she hauled herself out into daylight.
She dreamed of…reluctance. Lingering by the trashcan, as if it was home, as if it was safe, as if she didn’t want to leave it. The spider stared at her and glared at her and watched her every move, no matter how she shooed it away, and it was always just a bit too far out of reach for her to smash it.
She dreamed of darkness, as shadows crept closer and closer to the trashcan that was familiar, until they reared up and surrounded her.
Like wolves upon a wounded elk, they threw her to the ground and savaged her, tying her puppet strings to her again, whirling her through the air, and letting her crash to the ground again in a pile of splinters and tattered threads. The spider laughed at her as she lay immobile, as the shadows began to stalk closer.
When Vivienne woke with a jolt, looking around quickly to be sure that the shadows of the room were all where they were supposed to be and they weren’t moving in ways they shouldn’t have been, she realized that it was early enough to be considered late, and she sighed in exasperation.
How was she supposed to get back to sleep?
Behind her, Que grunted at her sudden shifting.
With some muttered word salad, he slid one arm around her and pulled her back against him to still her once more, bare skin pressing to bare skin.
‘ I’m being silly ,’ Vivienne thought to herself. ‘ He won’t let anything hurt me .’
She had to pause and contemplate that thought. That it was the thought that occurred her—not ‘nightmares aren’t real’ or ‘that was a ridiculous dream’—was rather telling.
She
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