Free Her Alien Savior by Elle Thorne Page A

have wings. You don’t—” She pushed his stool, trying to swivel it, pretending to look for wings.
    But his face, it changed. It went from sexy and sweet to—
    Aloof.
    Forbidding.
    Like he was someone different altogether.
    She drew back. Something was wrong. He jerked away, returned his seat to facing her. “Don’t be silly.”
    “Jeez. It’s a joke. Aren’t you overreacting a little?” She reached for her drink. It was empty. She hunted for the bartender, but he was gone, before he got her a refill. How convenient.
    “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am your wingless guardian angel. Don’t you think you should let me take care of you if I am?”
    “Um, no. You’re still a stranger, guardian angel or not.”
    Spinning. The seat felt like it was spinning. Or maybe it was the room. Whatever it was, the flavor of Kahlua and cream flowed in her throat. But very definitely from the opposite direction. White Russians did not taste as good coming back up. She swallowed the liquid down.
    No. No. No. It was the wrong thing to do. Now it was worse. Her stomach heaved. A glance up confirmed Finn was watching her, concern on his face. She turned away from him. If she didn’t she’d—
    God, too late. Just as she turned away, six White Russians projectile-erupted from her mouth. Out of her peripheral vision she caught his jump backward, his barstool flipped, clipping hers. Evidently clipping it just right.
    Marissa tumbled to the floor, vomit cascading around her. She slipped on the nasty, grimy, chunky floor and landed right on her ass.
     

Chapter 18
     
    Finn
     
    In seconds, Marissa, the human firebrand was vomiting a white-ish concoction in his direction and he made a swift flip out of her way. Finn didn’t count on his barstool tipping, or knocking hers over. He sure didn’t count on her falling down and her own vomit pelting her.
    She sat on the floor, this forlorn, former firebrand, lost, covered in her own vomit, miserable. Pitiful.
    Now what? Fueled by alcohol, and embarrassment, what would her temper lead her to do? He paused, waiting for her reaction. The other thing he hadn’t counted on—
    A flood of tears burst from her eyes, while her face maintained no emotions at all. This woman was beyond confusing. He leaned in, hoping she’d accept his help. Help? Help her what? What could he do? The only way to get this woman help would be to throw her in a bathtub. Preferably one filled with cold water to shock that alcohol’s effects out of her body and bring her to her senses. What could he say that would make it better? Nothing. So he put his hand out to help her up.
    She stared at his hand like it was a cobra.
    What was wrong with her? “Let me help you.”
    “I’m beyond help.” The snot that dribbled from her nose merged with the tears.
    He was happy she was too drunk—hopefully too drunk—to remember the sight she was. Yes, hopefully tomorrow morning she wouldn’t have any inkling of this performance.
    And why did that matter anyway? In a short time, she’d become a part of the mission to help his people.
    What would they do to her? Or to any of the women? What exactly happened once they were in Asazi custody? He should have asked. Why? Why would he have asked? It wasn’t his business. His assignment was to bring them in. he wasn’t a scientist. But now, suddenly, this woman made him want to know. To know that she’d be okay. To know that she wouldn’t come to harm. To know she’d still be that human spitfire, not a corpse. Or even an incubator.
    What was wrong with him? Why did he care? Was it the human genomes in his body that made him ask—care? Or was it the fact he’d taken on a human appearance? What was going on? He leaned back, fought to keep his confusion, and concern, from showing on his face.
    “Hey bud.” The bartender was back and tugging on Finn’s sleeve. “She’s a nice lady, and a good tipper and all that.” His face grew concerned as he looked down at Marissa. “But