Yeah, that’d do it, the voice muttered, apparently in reaction to his thoughts about the wreck that had damaged his knee. I fixed it. I can also shield your skin from the inside or outside if necessary. I’m not a freeloader.

I can pull my weight and then some.

It also talked a lot.

Catching that thought, the squatter hurried to declare, I’ll be quiet as a mouse, and fell silent.

Grateful for the opportunity to digest what had happened, Riley scooted up the bed and leaned against the headboard. He didn’t particularly like his options. Even if the alien let him try—which was doubtful—he couldn’t tell anybody about his situation, because he had no idea which authorities to approach or whether the creature would show up on X-rays or in blood tests. Chances were he wouldn’t get to find out, because he’d be declared crazy and locked up before he’d finished his tale. Of course, he might actually be insane—he was hearing voices, it wasn’t all that improbable that he’d simply snapped—but Riley had never been prone to flights of fancy, there was no history of mental illness in his family, and the Misha situation, while painful, was hardly the toughest spot he’d ever been in and thus unlikely to be the thing to push him over the edge. All things considered, he’d rather believe in aliens than contemplate the idea that his mind had fractured.

There was nobody he could turn to either way. He had no close friends who’d listen to this kind of story and believe him. What was left of his family was scattered to the four winds, and he had no desire to contact them. He doubted they would’ve helped him anyway. Not one of them had dealt well with the revelation that Riley was gay. He’d be lucky if they even picked up the phone. Misha… Riley gritted his teeth.

Misha wasn’t an option anymore.

Riley couldn’t evict the creature on his own, and he wasn’t sure he would’ve done it if he could’ve, because even though it had jumped on

board uninvited, it hadn’t done so out of malice. He understood survival instinct. He knew what it was like to be desperate enough to do shit you wouldn’t normally do. It said a lot about his alien squatter that it was trying to win him over instead of simply hurting him until he submitted. Also, yes, Riley did remember all those awesome orgasms and he was honest enough with himself to admit that fantastic sex made a persuasive argument. It wasn’t because he was lonely. He wasn’t. He’d been happy on his own before he’d met Misha and he’d be over Misha soon enough. He wasn’t seriously contemplating granting sanctuary to an alien because it would give him somebody to talk to, because that would’ve been pathetic. Right.

“This is gonna be short-term?” he said, biting his lip and wondering if he was about to make the mistake of his life.