Page 25 of Milked for the Holidays

Without another thought, I scoop her up into my arms, not willing to force her to walk another step. Holding her close, I look over at the other cows. They all look exhausted and scared.

“You may lie down. You don’t have to keep standing. The hay is soft, designed for your delicate skin. Rest now, because you will have little chance when you get to the farm.”

The Highland cow is the first to respond. Sinking down into the hay, she shuffles about, making a small nest for herself. It’s adorable, really. I can’t help the smile tilting my lips. She certainly will be a great match for my right-hand man.

Running my lips over the top of Jessica’s head, I take her out of the pen and lock the gate behind me. Antroli strides over, his lips set into a thin line. This can’t be good news.

“Jakroon wants the Highland. He’s offering far more than we paid for her.”

I shift Jessica higher in my arms, ignoring her squeal of discomfort. I’ll have to milk her soon.

“He should have bid on her when he had the chance. She’s ours now. Or rather, she’s yours. Don’t let him bully you into giving her up.”

Antroli’s expression clears as happiness lights up his face. “Oh, thank the Celestials. I was worried you’d make me give her to them.”

“We discussed it. We have the money. She’s yours. I fully expect recompense from your income. Now go take care of your cow. Just have the workers here get the others settled into the transport.”

Clutching my cow closer to my chest, I weave my way through the crowd of Ranchers looking over their new stock. Jakroon glares at me as we go past, but it doesn’t cause any concern. We won our herd fair and square. In the eyes of the law, he has no claim.

Jessica, however, shudders in my arms as she takes in his stern appearance. “Easy now,” I croon. “He will not touch you. You are mine, and no one will take you away from me.”

CHAPTER 11

JESSICA

I huddle deeper into Vrokjan’s chest, my heart pounding as I sneak glances over at the other alien. It doesn’t matter that my Rancher whispers to me in soothing tones, it does nothing to quell the terror flowing through my limbs. The other alien glares at me, his dark blue eyes boring deep into my soul.

There’s such hatred and anger there, and I have no idea why. He’s unfamiliar to me. Certainly not the guy who jabbed at my ass with that cattle prod on steroids.

Closing my eyes, I force my breathing to even. I have no clue what these guys are capable of, but I don’t want the mean one to hear just how hard my pulse is pounding. I turn my face into Vrokjan’s chest and drink in his scent.

It’s calming, somehow, allowing me to go limp in his arms. There’s something oddly familiar about his scent. It reminds me of home, of late nights out with my mom while we looked up at the stars.

How many times did we visit my grandparents and just look up at the night sky, wondering just what was beyond our vision? If I had known then that we weren’t just alone, but that intelligent beings wanted to harvest us, I’d say you were crazy.

I was so innocent then, naïve. And yet, when I smell Vrokjan, it’s as if I’m transported back to that place and time, where there’s no meaning beyond dipping my toes in a creek and coming home in time for dinner. How I wish I could go back there.

His strong, steady gait nearly lulls me to sleep. For the first time since being wheeled out into the hallway, I feel safe, comforted, and protected. The only thing keeping me from drifting off is the constant ache in my breasts.

What Enook did earlier took the edge off, but now, the pain is back. Whines claw at my throat as I twist and turn in his arms, desperate to find comfort. Exhaustion beats at me, but I find no relief.

“Shhh, my pretty little cow,” he murmurs, shifting me in his arms. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about it.”

Unfortunately, all I can do is worry as the pain steadily grows worse. Clutching at his suit, I grip it tightly in my fists, hoping to mitigate the pain. After a few moments, he sets my feet on the ground and pulls out an odd device.

It looks similar to a phone, but it’s paper-thin and nearly see-through. Wires and things I don’t have words for crisscross, sending lights racing across the back. So much about this world I still don’t know.

“Yeah,” he barks into the contraption. “I have her now. Meet me at the milking barn.”

There’s an urgency to this voice, an odd tone that sets me on edge. He looks me over, his lips turning down into a frown. Reaching out, he runs the pad of his finger across my nipple, sending shards of both pleasure and pain ricocheting through me.

I nearly collapse under the onslaught, but Vrokjan catches me, standing me back up. “Why are you so weak,” he murmurs, kneeling to study my legs.

The way he touches me is clinical, perfunctory, but it doesn’t stop the flare of arousal as his fingers skim my inner thighs, coming so achingly close to where I need him the most. He pinches and massages, moving my joints as he studies me. The stupid gag stifles my moans of relief as he digs his thumbs into my ass.

Panting, nearly out of breath, Nagán races up toward us, a satchel dangling at his side. “What seems to be the problem?”

“You tell me,” Vrokjan barks out, turning me toward the mean doctor.