Excerpt of Galactic Burn by Mel Teshco

The man towering over her had to be close to seven feet tall and all primitive power. His long, mocha-dark hair was also tied at the nape by a leather clasp.

For one fleeting moment that felt like an eternity, she gawked. Another alien. But oh so different from the others. Bigger, more commanding and powerful. Magnetic.

She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze from his piercing golden stare. Her eyes skittered along the bare expanse of his torso and rippling abs before she paused on a strangled gasp of air. The alien’s skin-colored pants, made of some kind of delicate, stretchy material, clung to his burgeoning cock like a lover’s caress.

She forced herself to breathe, to drag her gaze away from his cock, which was surely much bigger than any human’s.

“You came to me,” he said in English. His deep, lilting voice was oddly erotic, entrancing, and caused unwelcome shivers to pulse down her spine.

“No. Don’t be insane! Of…of course not! I’m looking for my people.” She turned her head, searching for an escape route. But running was impossible. The other aliens had surrounded them, their yellow eyes gleaming with carnal need.

“Then you’re wasting your time. All of your men are dead. And only a few hundred of your women survived.”

“What?” There was a roaring in her ears. Dizziness assailed her. Her pulse surged into a gallop. “No! That’s impossible.”

In one effortless move, he swept her into his arms, snapping out his incomprehensible language to the other men as they moved within touching distance around them. The aliens stepped back with obvious reluctance, their eyes narrowed slits as he carried her toward a large, domed building made of the same or a similar substance as his pants.

In that moment she hardly cared where he took her.

Most of the human race dead? It was inconceivable and yet, somehow she knew it was true. But why had she been spared? She swallowed. “What happened to them? To…to my people?” she asked hoarsely.

His eyes, much more golden than the other aliens, studied her face. “Nearly all your people died of the same virus that killed all our women and a good many of our men.” He shrugged. “It seems, in your race, it’s the women who have a much stronger resistance to the virus than men.”

She closed her eyes, faint with the knowledge that she was one of only a small number of human females left. She grew fainter still from the unmasked need etched into every line of his handsome face.

She should be afraid of this man, and she was, to an extent. Only, something much more powerful pulled at her senses—a fascination that overrode fear.

“The virus will have wiped your memory,” he said matter-of- factly, ducking his head a little to shoulder his way through the hanging double doors. “But once your immune system kills the virus, most of your memories will return.”

“Most?” she asked weakly.

“Yes. The ones you want to remember.”

Oh. Why did she get the uneasy feeling she wouldn’t have too many recollections she’d want to dredge up?

She only absently noted the flimsy hangings of assorted colors that seemingly parted before them as he carried her inside and which she guessed were room dividers. She was all too aware of his exotic scent, something vaguely citrus and earthy, woodsy, that sent warmth through her blood and to places she didn’t want warmed.

Her heart was pumping hard when he set her on her feet. She swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

“In your language my name is Darrius Yethala Merle. You may call me Dar.”

“Dar.” Such a simple word, and yet it made her think of something erotic. It made her think of sex. “You…speak English.”

He nodded, explaining, “It took us many years to travel to your Earth. In that time our…airwave transmitter-receivers allowed us to learn your language.”

Her mind whirled. What did he mean, exactly? That they had some kind of satellite dish to listen in to humans’ televised programs and radio shows?

“So…what…what do you want?”

His eyes smoldered, almost replicating the color of the leaping flames atop the tall wooden spikes that were their only light source. “You know what I want,” he said softly. When she shook her head, vehemently rejecting his claim, he cut in, “No need for denial. I feel your interest. And soon you will wish we had found you much, much earlier.”

“We?” she gasped.

His lips curled at one corner. “Our men still outnumber your women at least forty to one. An unfortunate occurrence since we’re fundamentally a possessive race.”

She stepped back. “So what are you saying? That you…you share women?”

His nostrils flared. “Yes.” His smile was pure seduction. “Though only the prime males of our species get to mate with Earth women.”

Even as horror filled her mind, her womb clenched with need, her pussy moistening. “That’s not going to happen. Not ever! Bad enough one of your kind, but multiple men—”

He stepped toward her. “It will happen,” he said softly, decisively. “We Carèche people are of the same likeness as human. You won’t be disappointed.”