The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition by Kaitlyn O'Connor

solid damned week—he must
really, really like her!
    It occurred to her when
she reached the kitchen that she ought to try to think of something
nice to do for him—beyond the bed. She supposed if he was like most
men that was pretty much all he needed to make him happy—a steady
supply of pussy—and peace when he got home. Of course, even that
hadn’t seemed to make Lawrence happy, but then he also hadn’t been
particularly pleased with her cooking or cleaning efforts—or
anything else—because he was determined not to be pleased about anything she
did.
    She thought Garryk would appreciate a meal
he didn’t have to cook or fetch from a restaurant. There wasn’t
much point in cooking, though, when he’d already let her know he
would be really late if he came at all. He would’ve already eaten
by the time he arrived, she was sure.
    Maybe she’d get the chance another
time?
    Or would it set off alarm bells in his
head? Uh oh! She’s getting domestic! Danger! Danger! Run for your
life, boy!
    Shaking it off, she opened the fridge.
There were two long necked beer bottles on the top shelf.
Uneasiness slithered through her. Garryk’s father had been an
alcoholic—a mean drunk by all accounts.
    It was just two beers, for
crying out loud! She drank occasionally. Hadn’t she just lectured herself about
jumping to conclusions!
    She glanced toward the trash can,
wrestling with herself. Closing the fridge, she walked to the can
and studied the assortment of wrappers and boxes. Relieved when she
didn’t find it full of beer bottles, she went back to the fridge
and studied the contents again. Finally deciding on an omelet, she
grabbed the egg carton, only to discover it was nearly
empty.
    Ok, so Garryk had an omelet—or a lot
of eggs! She decided to settle for an egg sandwich.
    She found a single red rose lying on
her pillow. Pleasure swelled in her chest. Rushing to it, she
grabbed it up and took a deep drag of its sweet perfume and then
picked up the note.
    Sorry, baby. I ate most of
your eggs. I’ll get more. I stole this for you from your neighbor’s
garden. I can’t believe they let people keep fucking dogs around
here! The little bastard almost bit me on the ass before I could
jump back over the wall.
    Chelsey clapped a hand
over her mouth and laughed until she was breathless. “Oh Garryk!
You shouldn’t have! You really shouldn’t!” Making a mental note to tell him he
shouldn’t have been filching the neighbor’s roses to start with,
she headed into the kitchen to find a vase for it.
    Despite the note saying he expected to
work late, she tried to stay up to wait for him—and ended up
falling asleep on the couch. Garryk roused her when he came in,
working his hands beneath her. She curled her arms around his neck
when he’d lifted her.
    “ What are you doing in
here?”
    “ Waiting,” she murmured
sleepily.
    “ Poor baby—all tuckered
out.”
    She thought he was going to leave
again when he’d settled her on the mattress. Instead, he headed
into the bathroom. She dozed off to the sound of the shower and
woke again when he climbed into the bed beside her. He smelled like
her shampoo and soap. She smiled at the flowery scent and nuzzled
her face against him drowsily. Instead of starting something
interesting, he arranged her like a bed pillow, threw one arm
across her waist and a leg over hers and settled with a deep
sigh.
    Mildly piqued, she waited … and waited
… and fell asleep.
    She was still irritated when she woke
up—and confused. If he’d been out half the night screwing, though,
why come back to her place to crash? Why not stay with his bed
partner? Or head to his own place?
    As annoyed as she was, though, she
could see his face was drawn with exhaustion and guilt smote her.
She was really going to feel like a total bitch if she found out he
was just worn out from working!
    And that was the only reasonable
explanation, she realized after mulling over it a while. He had
taken a shower,