Alien Romance: The Space Dragon's Owned: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW) by Ashley Hunter

The socialite was willing to put her claws into any man with a pulse and money. She would probably eat him up for dinner.
    "Ren."
    An attractive black woman in her thirties appeared in the doorway to the dressing room, a clipboard in her hands. Dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and her hair up in a bun, she looked every bit the professional. She sent a warm smile Ren's way.
    "You're up next, honey."
    Ren squared her shoulders and smoothed down her dress. This was it. One way of looking stupid in front of dozens of good-looking men who were willing to pay cash to have dinner with an eligible woman. She didn't expect to get much but she was willing to do what she could to raise money for charity.
    She followed Alasia Fraser out the room.
    "How do I look?"
    "You look amazing." Alasia gave her a warm smile. "You'll dazzle them." She glanced back towards the dressing room. "I'm amazed you were talking to Anslee and she wasn't sniping your head off. She's not exactly the friendly type."
    "I noticed." Ren shrugged. "I can hold my own."
    Alasia chuckled. They turned a corner and Ren felt her legs give way. She shrieked and tried to catch herself, hitting the wall. Alasia turned and caught her before she fell to the floor.
    "Whoa there, Ren." She steadied Ren back on her feet. "Are you okay?"
    Ren wasn't okay. She knew that she wasn't. But she wasn't going to tell Alasia that. This wasn't exactly something to share. Not now. She managed a smile and a shrug.
    "I'm fine. It's just these heels."
    Alasia looked like she didn't believe her for a moment. But she stepped back and nodded towards a door Ren knew would bring her round the back of the stage.
    "Go out there and sparkle, Ren?"
    Provided she didn't fall flat on her face again.
    #

 
     
     
     
     
    "Another drink, sir?"
    Brock looked up. The waitress who had been manning his table for most of the evening was standing by his chair again. He was sure her skirt had hitched up a few more inches and there was another button undone on her blouse.
    He didn't know if he should feel embarrassed for her or laugh at her pathetic attempts at seduction. The poor girl wasn't going to get anywhere.
    "No, thanks." He fingered his scotch glass, which he had barely touched. "I'm fine with what I've got."
    "Are you sure?"
    The waitress bit her lip and leant forward, her cleavage very close to Brock's face. He turned his head away, not wanting to see down the woman's shirt.
    "I'm sure, thank you." He said icily.
    Brock kept his face turned away as he felt the waitress' demeanour change. She harrumphed, straightened up and stalked away, her heels thudding on the carpet as she stomped off. Brock shook his head and rubbed at his eyes.
    Such women didn't seem to take a hint very well and then acted as if the man was the one with the problem when it didn't go their way. While the waitress had been young and pretty - very pretty - Brock couldn't find himself to get interested enough to take her up on her offer. It felt almost boring.
    Life felt boring. It had been nearly eight months since he had last had a woman in his bed and even then, he had had to work hard to become interested. It wasn't the woman’s fault; his serpent wanted its mate and it wasn't settling for second-best. It just wanted the one person it was meant to be with.
    Brock knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not with his demeanour. He kept himself closed off from everyone so barely anyone could get past his defences. He had his reasons but he wasn't going to explain himself. Even his personal assistant Tracey - someone he considered his closest friend - didn't know the whole truth.
    With all that going on, finding his mate was going to be next to impossible.
    The woman up on the stage, a blonde beauty with a debutante-type smile and wearing a white dress that could have come straight out of a fairy tale, finally left with a spattering off applause. The man who had won her for a date, a distinguished-looking man in his forties,