She fell.
Her stomach dropped and before she had time to think this is going to hurt, she collided with something warm and solid.
Strong hands caught her, one arm banding around her waist, the other beneath her thighs. Her hands grabbed for purchase and found bare skin over muscle. Wait… bare skin? She looked up and nearly stopped breathing.
Goraath stared down at her, those amber eyes with their strange horizontal pupils locked on her face. He’d caught her mid-fall like she weighed nothing. Held her against his chest with no apparent effort. And he wasn’t wearing a shirt again. Her palm was pressed flat against his chest. She felt the heat of him, and the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. Her other hand had fisted in his hair where it fell over his shoulder, thick and surprisingly soft between her fingers.
They froze. Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. His arm around her waist tightened a little, pulling her closer, and she felt the moment his gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks. Lower too, pooling in her stomach in a way that made her skin feel too tight.
His scent surrounded her… that earthy, warm smell and this close she could see the golden flecks in his amber eyes. Could see the way his pupils dilated as he looked at her.
He set her on her feet and stepped back. The cold air rushed in where his warmth had been. Her legs wobbling, she grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself.
“You should be more careful.” His voice was rougher than she’d heard it before.
“You startled me,” she said, breathless and shaky. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He turned away, jaw tight, and walked toward the kitchen without another word. She stood there, heart racing, skin still tingling where he’d touched her. Where she’d touched him.
Stop it. Stop thinking about it.
She climbed back onto the chair, carefully this time, and finished tying off the garland. Her hands shook enough that it took three tries. When she’d secured the knot and climbed down, he’d returned. Dressed now, thank god. He stood near the kitchen doorway, a canteen in one hand, his expression unreadable as he stared at the garland.
“Decorating.” She gestured. “You said I could do what I want.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. Hard. Flat.
“It’s just fabric.” Her words were defensive. “I’ll take it down when I leave.”
“The krulaati youngling need treatment.” He moved past her. “I’ll be working outside most of the day.”
Not an objection to the garland. Not approval either. Just... nothing. She looked at her handiwork. It looked sad. Limp brown and grey fabric hanging against dark stone. But it was there. A tiny piece of defiance against the emptiness. A reminder that she was still Juni Sutton, who loved Christmas and refused to let go of joy even when everything hurt.
He reappeared from the kitchen, a canteen in hand. He glanced at the garland again and she waited for him to say something. To tell her to take it down or that it looked ridiculous, or that she was being childish. He just walked to the door.
“We need supplies from town.” He didn’t look at her. “We’ll leave in an hour. Be ready.”
The transport’s cabin was too small.
Goraath kept his hands locked on the controls and his eyes on the rough terrain ahead. Fifty kilometers to the colony center. An hour’s drive through mountain passes and valley roads that would test the transport’s suspension.
An hour trapped in an enclosed space with her.
Juni sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in one of his spare thermal jackets because the mate program hadn’t sent her with proper cold-weather gear. The jacket swallowed her frame… sleeves hanging past her hands, shoulders drooping where they should be broad. She’d rolled the cuffs up three times and they still covered half her palms.
Too small. Everything about her was too small.
His jaw tightened. He should have prepared better and bought proper cold-weather gear before she arrived. But he’d told himself she’d be gone in six weeks, so why bother?
But that was no excuse. She was still here for six weeks. He couldn’t let her freeze in that time.
The transport hit a rut and bounced hard and she grabbed for the handle again.
“Sorry,” he rumbled. “Road’s bad through here.”
“It’s okay.”
Her voice was quiet. She’d been quiet since they’d left the ranch. There were none of the dozens of questions he’d dreaded. No humming and no attempts at conversation.
