Holy shit. He was huge. Gorgeous. Older than I’d expected, maybe mid-thirties? He was built like a professional athlete. Not only was he probably just shy of seven feet tall, but he wasn’t one of those tall, skinny guys. He was thick. His muscles had muscles, and everything was bulging under that wickedly tight, hideously ugly, lemon yellow shirt. Worse, he had it tucked in, leaving his too large thighs and ass to fill out a pair of khakis that had gone from mundane and ordinary to illegal levels of hotness.
And was that his---
No.
No fucking way.
Oh. My. God. It was.
His cock was huge. Hard. And the way he was staring at me with those green and gold eyes, like he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and take me back to his cave? Total caveman vibe. Worse, my little bitch vagina was into it, going hot, wet and needy in seconds.
Sure, I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. Several years, to be exact. But no one ever took me from zero to orgasmic this fast. He had sandy brown hair that looked like it would be warm as melted butter between my fingers. Those eyes. Were they hazel? The intense focus made me forget why I’d come down here in the first place. Fuck me, I bet this guy could make me forget my own name.
Mr. Smith.
I’d already heard the rumors. My teaching assistant had rushed into my classroom this morning brimming with gossip about the smoking hot, last minute replacement for Mrs. Radu. I’d listened with half an ear, too worried about being separated from Brody for the first time since my sister’s memorial service on Everis.
Brody. Right. That’s why I was here, gawking at a complete stranger. Mr. Smith’s shouting was the reason three other teachers huddled in the doorway behind me.
Focus, Krystal!
I forced my attention away from the irresistible Mr. Smith and found my nephew, the love of my life, my reason for being. He was chanting with the ‘pussy’ crowd.
“Brody James, sit down and behave yourself, right now.” I scanned the rest of the classroom, making eye contact with as many children as I could, as quickly as possible. “That goes for all of you. Sit down. Now.”
I used my best, most practiced, teacher’s voice, satisfied when the children responded immediately.
Mr. Smith still stood in the center of the room, gaping at me like I’d grown a second head.
Rude. Did I have a giant coffee stain on my dress? I resisted the urge to look down at myself and check. Barely. “I’m Ms. James. I teach fourth grade. And you all were so loud, you were disrupting the other classes. Do you think that’s acceptable behavior?” I glared at the children I sensed would respond. As I’d hoped, a few “No, Ms. James,” echoed through the room.
I shouldn’t look at him.
Don’t do it…
DAMN IT! I looked. Couldn’t stop LOOKING.
No man should be that sexy. And he was a kindergarten teacher? Either he was a saint among men, or insane. My traitorous pussy didn’t much care which at the moment as long as she got to take him for a ride. Or two. Or twenty.
Down girl!
“I trust you have your class under control now, Mr. Smith?”
“Yes.” Was that his real voice? Did any man have a voice that low? That rumbly?
My breasts tingled and grew heavy. I clenched my thighs together and licked my lips, imagined what he would taste like. His lips, like the rest of him, were big. I wanted to kiss them. Wanted them locked onto my clit, sucking and kissing me down there.
Jeeez. I had to get the hell out of here. Right now, before I made an even bigger fool of myself. I didn’t trust my voice, so I took one look at Brody, made sure he knew I meant business—as in, keep his head down and stay out of trouble, and stop chanting pussy—business. When he gave me a slight nod, I turned on my two-inch, practical heels—that I now ridiculously wished were four-inch, sexy, sling-back stilettos—and walked out of the room.
Warlord Iven, Three Days Later
* * *
I crouched in the dark, the cold, wishing the wet rain was rolling off my Coalition armor instead of soaking me to the bone in these ridiculous human clothes. In my armor, I wouldn’t feel a drop. But I’d heard no word from Lady Radu and had no idea how long I would be forced to play the role of Iven Smith, kindergarten teacher. I couldn’t risk blowing my cover. Mrs. C believed I was a human CIA agent on special assignment. The last three days in the classroom, I taught the children self-defense and situational awareness techniques that could save their lives in an emergency. We played games, the children and I. War games. Hunting games. Tracking games. Hiding games. I was doing a remarkable job of acting like a human.
I could not reveal my true nature. Not yet. The humans didn’t know who or what I was. I still had a mission, a young boy to protect. I’d narrowed down the options to a young male named Connor and another in the class named Tyson. I’d spent the last three days scouting both Connor’s and Tyson’s homes. Familiarizing myself with layouts of their neighborhoods, streets, high ground and escape routes. Staying away from this house had taken every bit of discipline I’d learned in my years serving the Coalition.
I’d resisted her call as long as I could. My mate. She was here. The beast demanded we protect her, and I didn’t have the strength to argue another night. But at least if I was caught out here, I would look like a soaking wet human, not a Warlord in heavy armor. The cold was nothing. The rain? Nothing. Irrelevant.
