Page 39 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

“He was your mate.”

“Ex,” I said again, emphasizing the very important modifier. “As in not anymore, never again, and he can rot in hell.”

“Rot in hell,” Kalith seemed to gurgle on a laugh. “I do not know this hell, but if rotting in it is a bad thing, I will use that phrase.” He turned to Vantor, face stretching with what I think was a grin. “Rot in hell, Vantor.”

Vantor ignored him, changing the subject back to more important matters. “You said you do not know the items we require.”

“Right, no idea. Absolute blank. Too bad you don’t need a banana. I’ve got a couple of those in the house, overripe and ready for bread.” I didn’t even know what I was saying, rambling nonsense.

“Then we must disguise ourselves while we search.” Vantor spoke slowly, a bubbling current beneath his words. “We are exposed with zero tactical advantage in these forms.”

“Does that mean you can… look like something else?” I quirked an eyebrow, wondering if they were more similar to Earth octopi and squid than I’d guessed.

As if to answer, Kalith raised two tentacles, wrapped them around one another, and suddenly, as if by magic, they looked like a human arm. Not just any human arm. My human arm.

“That’s—” I swallowed deeply— “Freaky as all get out.”

I watched as he did the same with two lower tentacles, suddenly lifting one pants-clad leg into the air. Just like mine, right down to the boots.

Freaky. Totally freaky. I kept trying to convince myself that what I was seeing was disturbing. Yet there was a part of me—a part that overrode sanity—that said, “if they can shapeshift like this… then maybe my Omega isn’t totally crazy.”

“Can you change back,” I frowned, “It’s freaking me out seeing my arm and leg on your body.”

Kalith glanced down at his newly shaped appendages, gave them both shakes, and they went back to four normal tentacles.

“Thank you,” I breathed out.

We all stood there awkwardly for several heartbeats, no one seeming to know what the next move should be.

“Let’s go into the house,” I heard myself finally saying, even though I’d earlier told them to stay clear of my home. “It’ll be more comfortable in there.”

My voice sounded strange to my own ears—breathier than normal, slightly higher pitched. The same way I'd sounded around Derek when we first met, when his Alpha pheromones had turned me into a giggly, submissive mess. The comparison made me cringe inwardly. I was not that person anymore. I refused to be.

"Something's got your engine running hot," Kalith noted, his smaller tentacle reaching up to trace suckers down his own body. It was… way too similar to a guy rubbing himself.

“Uh-uh,” I held up a hand, palm outward. “Stop. You just agreed to stop saying shit like that out loud, remember?”

Kalith’s coloring paled, and he went perfectly still.

“Now, we can't stay in here all day, so follow me to the house. I have work to do, horses to feed, and you... you need to figure out your—” I struggled for the right word— “disguises.”

Saying nothing else, I finally moved away from the wall. The absence of it felt wrong, like I’d lost the only thing truly steadying me. But I reached deep inside and gathered the fortitude to walk forward, past them, and out of the stables. They followed. I didn’t have to look. Their bodies slipped across the ground in damp whooshes.

Halfway to the house, one of them spoke, possibly Kalith again. I wasn’t totally familiar with their voices yet. "Repair may be impossible without the materials I listed. We could be stranded on your world indefinitely."

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I staggered to a stop. Indefinitely. These creatures weren't just a temporary problem to hide for a few hours or days. They were here to stay. On my property. Eating my food. Using my resources. Filling my space with their intoxicating scent that made me want to⁠—

I cut that thought off before it could fully form, and I whirled around.

"Indefinitely," I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Well, that's just perfect. The bank wants to take my ranch, I’ve got supply invoices out the ass, a looming vet bill, and now three alien squatters. The universe really has a sick sense of humor."

My hands trembled visibly now, adrenaline and arousal and fear all mixing together into a cocktail of confusion that made it hard to think straight and spiked my sweet Omega scent with acid. Thank goodness that I was outside now, the fresh air helping to dilute all our combined scents, or I’d go mad.

"You are in financial distress?" Vantor asked, his skin patterns shifting to something that seemed almost concerned. The other two followed suit, colors rolling in and out as if carried on invisible tides, alien Alpha colognes suddenly heady with spice.

"That's putting it mildly," I muttered, running a shaking hand through my hair. "But that's not your problem. The only thing you guys need to focus on is getting your flying saucer, UFO… or whatever working again."

The tension was palpable—a living thing stretched between us, pulled taut by conflicting instincts and impossible circumstances. The aliens' tentacles moved in restless patterns, occasionally reaching toward me before withdrawing, as if they too were fighting against instincts they didn't fully understand.