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How Not to Date a Human
How Not to Date… Series
by Stephanie Burke

Changeling Press

eBook BIN: 05787-01855

Oh why, oh why did the condom break?

Now McCabe is stuck explaining to an unamused Spooky how an alien virus has introduced her to the world of shifters. But everything should be fine so long as she avoids her lovelorn boss and takes her new situation and the shifter support group seriously. Matters of the heart are a tricky thing, especially when you decide to date a human.

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Changeling Press

Chapter One

“Oh, God, yes.” McCabe could barely hold in the moans that were rolling from his throat. And really, why would he want to? His lover’s mouth was wet and hot on his cock despite the latex barrier that separated him from the real pleasure. But it was worth it to keep her safe.
Her fingers ran up his spread thighs, her nails scratching lightly at the sensitive flesh as his head rolled from side to side on the scattered pillows.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasped as her fingers trailed high enough to cup his balls, tugging gently at the rolling orbs within his sac. “Gonna make me come.”
Spooky, of course, was too polite to speak with her mouth full or too busy showcasing her oral expertise, but he really didn’t care which. She was going to make the top of his head explode.
He licked his lips, still tasting the spicy flavor of her, recalling how she rode his face, fucked his tongue as he held her over him. He closed his eyes and shuddered. The memory of her thighs on either side of his head, squeezing as her hands fisted in his long hair, was enough to bring him closer to his inevitable climax.
He thought of the ring still sitting in his pants’ pocket and almost cackled in glee. His plan was working, just not in the order he’d devised.
First, he was supposed to delight her with his culinary skills, which shocked most people. After all, who ever thought that a construction worker/show magician would do anything more than lift weights and practice sleight of hand? But he could cook, and the four-course meal he had produced more than proved it.
The next thing was confession. He had a doozy of a secret, bound to make any normal woman run screaming from the room. But his Spooky wasn’t normal — well, not average, at any rate.
Spooky Love was the best thing that ever happened to him. He met her when he and his crew were hired to design office space at a scientific lab called Deci Corp a little more than two years ago. His boss, knowing he held a master’s degree in engineering, felt he could bridge the gap between the layman and the academic elite when it came to explaining the cans and cannots of their plan. At one of these meetings he met Ms. Spooky Love, who had three master’s degrees and a disdain for anything or anyone not giving their all.
She had taken one look at his written proposal and wondered aloud why he wasn’t publishing. “Publish or die,” she reminded him, and he found himself telling her of his academic burnout.
“At your age?” She sounded skeptical.
“I got my bachelor’s when I was thirteen, and then it was non-stop school, pressure from my peers when I was better than them, pressure from the schools who used me like a poster child for their training techniques, and finally not being credited for my theories because my academic advisor felt I was too young to understand what my name going on a study could mean. I found myself standing on the roof of the science building with the intent to take a long walk when I was almost beaned with a brick. I mean, not a small ornamental one, but a huge frigging foundation type brick. Then I noticed how ill put together the building actually was. So I came down off the ledge, put in a safety complaint with the powers that be, and walked off campus. I was twenty-two when I discovered that I felt a lot better about using my intelligence if I could make it so no buildings would collapse on people, and that was that. I never looked back.”
Spooky thought his story was interesting enough to learn more over lunch, and then dinner, and then breakfast.
He’d thought she would complete her intellectual slumming and then move on, leaving him a little colder but grateful for the opportunity to get up close and personal with her, but within a month, shared breakfast was a common occurrence.
That she moved in with him was a miracle, and that she stayed was a blessing he never discounted.
So, almost a year later, he knew Spooky was the one woman he would spend the rest of his life loving.
And that was step three of his plan. But that kind of got sidetracked when he presented her favorite dessert. She made such erotic noises consuming the crème brûlée that he had to take advantage.
She was no more than three spoons in by the time he had her panties tossed across the room and was between her legs, eating at her shaved pussy, sucking on her clit and drinking down her juices as she came spectacularly, riding his face on the dining room floor.
The condoms were in the bedroom so he slung her over his shoulder and tossed her to the bed, ready to wrap it and fuck her senseless, when she changed the rules. She grabbed the flavored condoms and began to devour him, trying to draw his soul out through his cock.
And now, as his balls drew up under her encouraging hand, as her finger between his spread cheeks traced over his hole, he knew he would drop down on his knees and beg her to marry him, even if he wasn’t so damn in love with her.
“Spooks,” he panted, his chest heaving as he tightened a hand in her hair. “God, Spooks, baby! Gonna come — gonna come, baby!”
She increased her suction, her dark hair clinging to her forehead, and looked up at him, her golden-brown eyes glowing with pleasure.
Yeah, she had control of him, and she knew it.
She groaned as she shoved a finger in his ass, striking his prostate as she swallowed him down balls deep.
He was lost. He threw back his head and gave in to the urge to thrust deep and let go. He cried out as his hips thrust forward, his muscles tightened, and his nerves began a pleasurable burn.
He groaned as his cock spasmed, shooting his seed into the tight condom, the only sounds in the room his rough panting and her steady swallowing –
Swallowing? Fuck, no! The condom broke!
“Spooky!” he gasped, his post-orgasmic lethargy leaving him as he sat up and stared down at his lover.
“What?” she purred, looking like the cat that had run down, caught, and then ate the damn canary.
“The condom –”
“Not bad, Masterson.” She chuckled, licking her lips. “Kind of like strawberries with a hint of lemon and a sweet aftertaste. Is this what you’ve been depriving me of all this past year? Now that I got it straight from the source, I’m going to want to do this again and again.”
Then all hell broke loose.
* * *
“I don’t know what’s so dangerous, McCabe,” Spooky grumbled. Talk about being taken from the heights of ecstasy to the basement of stupidity. “You’re clean, I’m clean, I saw the doctor’s report. I know you have some germ phobia –”
“I do not have a phobia,” McCabe argued as he continued to drag her down a dark alley. It was the middle of the night, and she was still horny. The taste of his semen — she licked her lips as she thought of the light, strawberry fizz of his jizz and the delicious, vanilla-bean finish. She wanted more, and as soon as they were through with this latest bout of madness…
“And stop doing that.”
“What?” She looked up at his glittering green eyes and fought the urge to smirk. McCabe was one fine specimen of manhood, and she all but owned his ass. From the top of his silky black hair that fell in waves to below his well-formed shoulders, to the toenails that he strangely kept manicured black, McCabe was the hottest thing she had ever seen. Add to that the well maintained muscular form, the soft bass voice, and the fact he thought that she was perfect, she could overlook a little rupophobia.
“Stop licking your lips like — like –”
“Like I just tasted something that I’m going to get more of as soon as I get you laid out flat?”
He whimpered. She arched an eyebrow and giggled when he blushed. “Honestly, McCabe. Most men would flip out over the fact that their lovers wanted to suck them until their balls caved in.”
“Spooky!” His embarrassed wail coupled with his unusual blush were her first clues that something wasn’t quite right. She was never this vulgar outside the bedroom. And come to think of it, she was feeling unusually hot. Usually she was chilly at night, even in the middle of a steamy summer in Baltimore.
“Okay, we have to hurry.” His concerned voice cut into her introspection and again he gripped her by the hand, all but galloping her toward a light at the end of the odd little causeway in the heart of the city.
“McCabe,” she protested. They stopped in front of a steel door with one of those sliding windows where someone was always demanding “password” in movies before they were let into an underground club or something.
She opened her mouth to question him once more when he raised a fist and slammed it into the metal door three times. The view window slid back silently, and a pair of golden eyes peered out.
Spooky jumped back, her hands going to her chest as if to hold her suddenly racing heart in her chest. “McCabe?” she asked as the eyes peered closely at her.
The golden set of eyes widened briefly before a soft voice called out, “Masterson? Is that you?”
“Kara,” he stepped up to Spooky’s side, looking grim as he nodded.
“Masterson, no.” The woman behind the door sounded shocked, her eyes going wide a second before the door slammed open.
Spooky felt McCabe’s broad hand at her back urging her through the strange door and into God-knows-what. She looked up into his face and noted that, though his green eyes looked clouded over in sadness, there was no fear.
“What have you gotten me into?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Hurry up,” the voice urged. “Don’t stand there all night looking stupid.”
“Stupid?” Spooky stepped forward into the gloom of the place. She stepped up to the woman, Kara, and glared.
“Don’t look at me like that, fresh meat.” Kara snorted. “I’m not the one who fucked you into this predicament.”
Spooky’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the small blonde chick standing before her. Just who did she think she was?
“Excuse me?” Her voice rose with her temper.
“You would do better to excuse him.”
The female was too short for such a huge attitude. She barely came up to Spooky’s nipples. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a rough ponytail, her pale skin was tanned deeply, and those odd, golden eyes peered up at her, looking amused by her ire.
Before she could say anything else, McCabe again pressed his hand to her lower back.
“Kara,” he explained. “She doesn’t know.”
“Well, fuck.” Kara shook her head as she gestured them forward. “Why didn’t you say so, Masterson?” She looked over at Spooky, examining her before shaking her head slowly. “Welcome to the club.”
“Club?” Spooky asked, flabbergasted by the sudden change in her tone, the growing pity there.
“Yeah, the What have I fucked myself into club.”
Spooky looked around the dark vestibule and shuddered. She looked up at her lover, her eyes narrowing as the pieces started to fall together. “What did you give me, McCabe?” she asked, before her eyes went wide in fear. “Please tell me it’s not AIDS –”
“No,” McCabe denied harshly. “You saw my blood tests, Spooky. We got them done at the same time. You saw my results.”
“Spooky?” Kara interrupted. “Nice name for what you got now.”
“So not helping, Kara,” McCabe snapped, and Spooky moved a little closer to him. “No, babe,” McCabe attempted to explain again. “It’s not deadly –”
“What did you give me?” Spooky growled, jerking away from her lover, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his face.
“I was trying to tell you tonight –”
“What is it, Masterson?” She reached up and fisted the front of his shirt, jerking him down to her eye level. Fear was an emotion she was beginning to feel in great quantities. Panic was staring to creep up in there too. “So help me God –”
“Well, as amusing as this is,” Kara interjected, shooting McCabe an apologetic look, “we need to get inside.” She stepped forward into the dank darkness of the room, and Spooky heard another door slide open.
She followed at McCabe’s urging and stepped through the darkness and dank — into air-conditioned comfort.
Spooky blinked as she stared at the brightly lit office space, so different from the small area they had previously occupied. It was like something out of a James Bond movie, she thought, looking at the bright yellow file cabinets and the buzzing banks of computers.
McCabe urged her forward again, and they both stopped at a huge glass receptionist’s desk where brightly colored orchids grew.
“Number, please?”
Spooky jerked her attention away from the furniture and took a look at the lady behind the desk. She was — there was something very odd about her. She had glowing amber eyes and… Amber eyes?
“Well?” she asked, tucking an errant strand of hair into a tightly placed bun. “You do have a number?”
“Um –”
“Seven twenty-three alpha seven,” McCabe responded softly. “Emergency protocol –”
“What the fuck is going on?” Spooky snapped, running her hands up and down arms that were crossed defensively. “Somebody had better tell me something pronto or it’s going to get really ugly in here.” She glared at her boyfriend — soon to be ex-boyfriend.
“She’s new?” the lady asked, tsking as she began to gather forms.
“Moments ago.” McCabe sighed, reaching out for Spooky with shaking hands.
“You should use protection –”
“It broke,” he cut in. “And I didn’t know until –” He blushed. “Until it was too late.”
“Oh, dear,” the woman tutted again. “And that was a fresh batch. Best I put out a warning to the manufacturer and a recall order.”
“What is going on? Somebody tell me something!” Spooky demanded. “I’m about to get violent up in here!” and finally they both turned to look at her.
“I was trying to tell you earlier,” McCabe began, “but we kind of got distracted –”
“Tell me what? You don’t have any STI’s, McCabe. You are right. We got those checked at the same time. Now please…” She felt her eyes filling with tears. “What is happening to me?”
“I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head in shame. “I was tying to find a way to tell you and to protect you. But — I have –”
“You are scaring her worse,” the woman interjected kindly. “Just spit it out, love.”
“Am I going to die?” Spooky asked, her heat trying to escape her chest up her throat. With effort, she swallowed it back down and tried to contain her suddenly shaking body.
“I have SR-7.”
“House cleaner?” Puzzlement took control.
“That’s DDR,” he corrected softly, reaching out and taking both her hands in his. “What I have is more serious, and I believe I just passed it on to you.”
“Wait.” She pulled one hand from his and waved it in front of her. “I’m a research scientist. I have never heard of SR-7.”
“It’s — it’s the shape-shifting disease.”
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “The– Wait, what?”
“Shape shifting –”
“That’s what I thought you said.” She frowned, her anxiety fleeing like her sanity as she glared at McCabe and the strange lady. “Really?”
“Really.” The woman offered her a booklet.
So You Have Been Infected with Shifting?” She read off the title and then turned a disbelieving gaze onto McCabe and the woman. “Okay. I’m outta here.”
She turned to go, but suddenly the woman was standing in front of her. “But you can’t.”
Spooky blinked to clear her eyes because it was as if the woman had teleported right in front of her. No one could move that fast. “Can’t?” she asked, anger building.
“Not yet. You need a number,” the woman insisted.
“I get pulled out of bed after the most amazing oral experience in my life for this crap?” She spun around and slammed her fist against McCabe’s chest. “If you wanted to break up with me –”
“Never,” he promised, gripping her fist with both hands, lifting it to his mouth and pressing soft kisses against her knuckles. “I love you, Spooky. I never want to be without you. That is what this evening was about.”
“He’s really not lying,” the woman interjected and Spooky glared at her.
“And you’re in on this elaborate hoax with him –” She broke off as the woman let her hair down… only there was no hair. Several antenna-like appendages sprang out of the bun and began to wave wildly around her head.
Spooky turned to look up at McCabe and almost screamed as he waved — waved a third hand at her.
In fact, her knees went a little weak and she suddenly found it very difficult to speak.
“This is what I wanted to tell you.” He sighed and, as she watched, his third hand seemed to sink into his back. “This is what I felt you had the right to know.”
“You’re an alien?” she asked, and then turned to look at the woman. “You are all aliens?”
“I’m Zordanovis.” The woman offered a smile as she pulled the antennae on top of her head back into their bun. “He’s merely human — infected, but human nevertheless.”
“I need to sit down.” Spooky gasped, and she was lifted into McCabe’s arms, cradled against his chest.
“At least she’s not vomiting,” the alien offered as she smiled at McCabe. “Less clean up that way.”
The world began to spin and Spooky happily went along for the ride.

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