Sweet Alien Savage (Zerconian Warriors Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

that gorgeous? So goddamn masculine?
    He was the most stunning male Mila had ever met. His stride full of confidence, his stance assured, his men silent and watchful behind him. Koran. Even his name was masculine and strong. Like him.
    Over seven feet tall, thick with muscles, and with a hard, rugged face, Koran had a dark, dangerous look. A wicked scar ran down his neck. With regeneration chambers able to heal most things, scars were now a rare sight.
    It made Koran appear menacing. Lethal.
    But it was her reaction to him that was the biggest shock. Arousal slammed through her body like a jolt of lightning, filling her from the inside out. Her legs were jelly, her heart racing, palms sweating. She had never felt such an instant sexual attraction to someone before.
    And then he’d turned to her and said hello. And what had she done? Had she managed to be charming? Had she pretended to be smart and assured? Had she even just attempted to be welcoming and polite?
    Nope, she hadn’t managed any of those things.
    Instead, she’d stood there like a dummy and stared at him. Now he probably thought she was a bit simple.
    Mila could kick herself. If she’d managed to pull her head out of her ass, she might have touched him, felt his skin against hers as they shook hands. It might have been her only chance to touch him. She’d noticed the way he’d focused on Aline. The same way all men watched Aline. As though she was filet of steak and he was stuck on a broccoli diet.
    Personally, Mila liked broccoli. But not many people would go for broccoli over steak. Especially not a manly man like Koran. Even his voice was masculine. Deep and husky. He hadn’t smiled, which was probably just as well. If he smiled, she might well have self-combusted.
    “Mila!”
    She looked up, blinking at Aline’s hiss. “Yes?”
    Glancing around, she spotted Koran and his men across the room, gathered around the table of food.
    “Get them all out of here. I want to have a private meeting with Commander Al’a.”
    “How?” Mila asked.
    “I don’t know.” Aline glared at her in irritation. “Just get rid of them all.”
    How the hell was she going to do that?
    Gathering up her courage, she moved towards the group of warriors. She’d figured that such large men would need a lot of sustenance, so she’d arranged with the kitchen staff to prepare what she considered a feast.
    Eyes widening, she noticed most of the food had already been demolished and they’d only been here a few minutes.
    Mila cleared her throat.
    Nothing.
    They continued to chat in Zerconian. Mila was good with most languages, but Zerconian wasn’t one of them.
    “Um, excuse me?”
    Crap. Nothing. She needed some way to grab their attention. Mila glanced at the plates of food and grabbed one that held pieces of fried nonka bird and a dip made from a tomato-like fruit grown here on Zazarn. Maybe she could lure them away with a plate of food.
    The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, right? Not that she wanted to win the heart of any of these guys.
    Grabbing the plate, she turned, stumbling over a large foot.
    Oh shit. Not now.
    Mila held onto the plate in desperation as she frantically tried to regain her balance.
    Everything moved in slow motion as she fell against one of the Zerconians, spilling the plate of food down his back. Horrified, she took a step back, watching as the red dip dripped down the back of the wide-shouldered warrior.
    He turned, swinging his arm out and catching her in the shoulder. She flew backward.
    Oomph! She landed against another male and they slammed to the ground. She fell on her side, her head rested against something warm and hard.
    At the sound of a snarl, she glanced up to find Koran glaring down at her. What the hell? Why was he angry?
    Shifting herself with a groan, she turned her head to see what she’d landed on. Horror froze her tongue as she realized her face was only inches above the crotch of a blond-haired Zerconian.
    Red