Strangeways Audiobook

Chapter One

Cliché as it was, I set a cigarette to my lips and struck a match. The quick scent of sulfur, that beautiful moment of burnt wood… that first inhale singed the back of my throat. Nicotine-laced smoke swirling through my lungs. Dark air. Dark thoughts. Out of practice, aware that my actions were foolish, the taste of tobacco was no longer one of pleasure as it had been while clubbing in my twenties.

The cheap menthol tasted flat, dirty even.

It tasted exactly how I felt.

The crumpled pack had been going stale in my nightstand drawer for over a year. Couldn’t tell you why I’d never chucked it. Maybe I liked the accessibility to a frivolous, expensive pleasure. Maybe I was just lazy in the small spaces where I could afford to be.

I suppose it was providence—there I was, sitting at the end of my sex-mussed bed, sucking on a cancer stick… because.

“Explain to me why your back is to me and a cigarette is in your mouth.” Such a soft voice: velvet on the ears—almost a physical sensation to hear.

I exhaled, monotone, and watched the sorry puff of smoke add to the already unpleasant smells lingering in the dingy square of my room. “It’s a human post-coitus ritual.”

“No, it is not.” I heard him shift behind me, as if he contemplated edging closer before changing his mind. “It is a formula used in your media to visually style the end of good sex. Should I interpret this act as a sign you were pleased with how I fucked you? I would prefer to be told in other ways that do not cause harm to your body.”

Sucking smoke into my mouth, swirling it with a tired tongue, I puffed my cheeks and let it free. A fake inhale. A mutiny.

Which, in its small and stupid way, felt necessary.

But he meant well. He must have.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell if the ‘new species’ were using earthling cues properly. Was he sincere? Did that dusting of hurt in his vocalizations mean anything? Or was he using the manipulations earth men so loved to pepper through their words to garner praise?

How did one even describe sex with these… men? “I enjoyed it.”

“You don’t smoke.” The softest rabbit fur, the most lovely of spine tingles. “This is not a habit that is healthy, nor is your current action offering you a sense of joy in this moment.”

How the fuck would he know if I smoked or not? Not that it was any of his business…

One last drag. A real, proper inhale. I let burnt air roll around inside me, all the while holding back a building cough. Dropping the cigarette into a cloudy glass of water that had been left for days on my dresser, I exhaled the plume. Watching it shift from strong gray mass into tendrils that twisted into nothing.

The darkened air dissipated almost as quickly as my comfort with this situation.

Cutting a shy glance over my shoulder, I forced a pleasant smile. The same one pasted on my face day after grinding day at work. It failed almost as soon as it was born.

One look at him…

Sprawled, utterly naked, propped on an abundance of cheap, mismatched pillows, he waited.

Sure, I was naked too, and he had a great view of the seated top of my plump ass and tapered back, but I was ordinary. Regular.

Normal.

This man… lounged, utterly unreserved, blatant in his sexuality. Brazen.

Where some kook had come up with the term ‘little green men’ to describe his race I’d never understand.

There was nothing little about any of them—not height, not build, not, um, their parts—that warranted the diminutive term. The specimen taking up the entirety of my bed was pure muscle, yet lacked the bulk one might imagine came with such strength. There was leanness, definition, in shoulders that were too broad for a human and waist too narrow. Over all that strength was silvery skin, though it did favor green. And just like us humans with our freckles and personal features, there were random defining marks that set him apart from the others of his kind.

Phi had stripes.

Those markings had caught my eye from the first moment I saw him reading a menu at one of my tables. Few and far between, angled to highlight his bone structure, those stripes reminded me more of sexy 1970’s David Bowie than any of Earth’s exotic animals. The most striking, my favorite mark, was a line bisecting his face straight down the center. Down his throat, and now that I’d seen him au naturale, led to the treasure between his thighs.

“Emily.” God, the way he spoke my name was a caress.

He was chiding me for my reticence, for my failure to meet his gaze… and I’d always been a sucker for guilt trips. Up went brown eyes, my attention all his. “Yeah?”

His toes—well, they were similar to toes—brushed my thigh. “Come here. Human women are to be attended to after they have been mated. It is mentally unhealthy for you to draw away.”

It wasn’t intentional, but I smirked. Phi had a knack for making me do that. “Is that what you’ve been told?”

Like running water, his tone could be so smooth. Placid, welcoming, urging. “We’ve observed your species for many years.”

Shifting onto a hip, I lost my train of thought, a new one smashing in so hard my eyes clenched, my mouth went into a line. I grew tense.

Incredulous, I asked, “You observed humans fucking?”

“How else were we to assure we satisfied? Human females are far more frightening than the males. You must be conditioned to find us enjoyable, or we might be overpowered.” As if utilizing a practiced expression, he winked. Hand to God, the alien winked.

And heaven help me, I giggled. I even put a hand over my lips like some sad flirt at a club.

But amusement faded in an odd and unmerciful way. I grew uneasy with the way he stared.

...

Engulfed by the man breathing at my ear, cradled, being treated more sweetly than any living human had ever treated me, my alarm deflated.

I even offered a conciliatory nod when he reasonably explained, “Your film industry has conditioned you to think extraterrestrials only seek out Earth to invade, steal your resources, and commit genocide.”

“Not true.” His words should not have been amusing, but I smirked as if he’d struck the perfect chord. “The alien species in the original Star Trek were all go-go dancing sluts for Kirk.”

“I enjoy the fact that you are humorous.” Phi smoothed his fingers over my sex-tangled curls, tugging playfully to watch a spiral bounce back, and in a way that gave inexplicable pleasure. Then I was enfolded again. Brushing my ear, his lips parted to impart more sweet words. “It was fortuitous that I found you first, Emily.”

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