Alien in the Family

“Noted. Mom, our wedding plans aren’t really the issue of the hour. Okay, I mean, they are, but we have bigger issues.”

“Like Jeff being a member of the royal family? Which means we have an entire contingent of exiled royalty here, which bloodline you happen to be marrying into. Your father’s thrilled, by the way.”

I managed not to share that, so far as I could tell, he was the only one. “Other issues.” I was reaching, but I wanted off the wedding and royal family conversation train.

“Like Reynolds being in charge,” Martini muttered.

I leaped on that one. “Yeah, Mom, why did you put Chuckie in charge of Centaurion?”

She barked a laugh. “Because I want the only C.I.A. big shot I can trust in charge. It helps that he’s brilliant, understands you intimately, and also understands the A-Cs perfectly.”

I wondered if Martini could pick up emotions through the phone, and I also wondered what my mother’s were at this time. My parents loved Martini and felt he was a good match for me. But Mom had shoved me at Christopher and apparently was still holding a torch for the idea of me and Chuckie as a couple. It wasn’t really like her to keep on once my decision had been firmly made. I got the impression Mom really wanted me to be positive I wanted to marry Martini because she was worried about more than whether I’d really picked the guy who was right for the long haul.

Of course, Chuckie’s family were humans who adored me. Though Martini’s parents seemed to sort of like or at least tolerate me. Now. Chuckie’s family also weren’t invading from another planet to pass judgment on me. Maybe Mom had a point. Maybe the invading aliens had a point—I wasn’t exactly Princess Diana material. I did my best to think about flowers so I didn’t give Martini any emotional signals.

“Okay, fine. What are we supposed to do, though?”

“Do? Figure out what’s coming and how to stop it while listening to Charles and not getting yourselves killed.” Mom didn’t add the “duh” in there, but it was clear that she’d just exercised impressive self-restraint.

“Duly noted. We have to listen to Chuckie?” I wasn’t the one who had problems listening to Chuckie, of course, but I felt I had to represent Martini’s interests here.

“Yes. Unless you resign and all the A-Cs leave the planet. Let me mention that I don’t think that’s a viable option for anyone, nor is it the option I, personally, think anyone should exercise.”

“Good to know. Any other words of wisdom?”

“Please God find a decent wedding dress soon, so the rest of us can figure out what we’re going to be wearing.”

“Thanks for focusing on the big picture, Mom.”

“Any time, kitten. Love you and love to Jeff.”

“Love you, too, Mom, and same to Dad.” We hung up, and I felt exhausted again. “Normally talking to my mother doesn’t make me want to sleep for a week.”

“Your body’s responding to stress,” Martini said, as he stood us up, still holding me, in one fluid motion. A-Cs were super strong as well as super fast. He carried me into the bedroom. “You want to talk about the situation, plan the wedding, or go to bed?”

I didn’t have to give this one much consideration. “Bed.”

Martini chuckled. “I meant to sleep.” Martini’s other super skills were empathic and bedroom. He said lust was an easy emotion to pick up, particularly mine. Then again, it was an easy guess, because I was always lusting after him.

“Oh, so did I. You know . . . after.”

Martini gri

CHAPTER 7

AFTER AN IMPRESSIVE SEXUAL DISPLAY for a normal human, but what was bedroom business as usual for Martini, we fell asleep. I woke up hours later, his arms tight around me. I nuzzled into his chest, and he gave a sleepy growl.

I estimated we’d fallen asleep an hour or so after dawn. It was still daylight—the internal lighting was on full. But I had no guess as to what time it really might be.

Before either one of us was fully awake, a voice came through the intercom. “Commanders Martini and Katt, Supreme Commander Reynolds requests your presence at a briefing.”

“Supreme Commander?” Martini sounded wide awake. “Gladys, what the hell?”

“He knows you well. Mister Reynolds said that would probably wake you. And to tell you he’s kidding, about the title, not the briefing.”

“Hilarious guy. Remind me to punch him when we get to the briefing. Fine, Gladys, please tell Mister Power Mad we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“An hour,” I shouted. “At least an hour.”

“I’ll pass that along, Commander Katt.”

“Thanks, Gladys.” The com went dead.

“You know, I hated Reynolds enough before I found out he was interested in marrying you. This is going to be sheer hell, having to take orders from him.”

“He’s just got an interesting sense of humor.” I sat up and stretched.

“Mmmm, do that some more.” Martini stroked my breasts.

“Oh . . . Jeff . . . we have to . . . get dressed . . .” My voice trailed off as he moved his mouth to help his hands with the work of sending me to orgasm heaven.

In light of our upcoming briefing session, he used the speedy approach. I was yowling like a cat in heat, my standard reaction, within a minute and climaxing within the usual two. Martini looked extremely pleased with himself as he got out of bed, picked me up, and headed us into the shower.

I was always in the Happy Place if we were showering together. Somehow, we managed to fit in another couple of screaming orgasms before we cleaned up and got out. Royal family be damned—they were not going to prevent me from showering with Martini on an at least once-daily basis, certainly not without a huge fight from me.

I decided not to put on the Armani fatigues today. I chose a pair of jeans, my Converse, and, in light of the impending state of emergency, the Aerosmith shirt I’d worn during Operation Fugly. I figured a little nostalgia couldn’t hurt.

Martini was in, of course, the standard Armani issue. In the year we’d been together I’d gotten him into something else only a few times. He’d been willing to be casual during the day when we’d gone to Cabo—of course, most of the days in Cabo we’d been in swimsuits or naked in our private cabana. But at night he’d adapted the suit to wherever we were going.

Otherwise, I’d gotten him into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt exactly twice since then. I’d almost given up—A-Cs really loved their formality and their Armani. I’d resorted to haunting the Armani website to see if there might be anything in upcoming collections Martini would consent to wear. As of yet, no luck, but I’d certainly learned more about fashion trends and gotten some great ideas for my wedding dress, which was, as my mother had so nicely pointed out, as of yet, neither picked out nor ordered. We were six weeks away from our wedding, but I wasn’t worried. I was panicked. But something, like horrible space visitors, always kept popping up.

We left the Lair and got into the elevator. The one incident with Christopher in here had pretty much been wiped out of my clear memory by Martini’s ravaging me in it shortly afterward. I normally loved being in an elevator with him—it was always a toss-up as to whether he’d stop it and we’d see how often I could climax, or he’d at least ravage my mouth to the point where a climax was a strong possibility.

We went with the latter today. I hated having to be someplace on time, it took away so many potential orgasms.

We reached the launch area, which was the top of the Science Center. There were the usual perso