“I slipped!”
“You jump,” he corrects, furious. “Into rot.”
“I was doing science!”
“Sai-ens?” He growls the English word like it tastes bad.
He gives me a little shake, which is both terrifying and weirdly hot.
The adrenaline is crashing through my system now, mixing with the weird fumes and the fever I’ve been ignoring. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I should pull away. He’s mad. And we’re covered in red slime.
But I don’t pull away.
I look at him.
Reallylook at him.
The way his fangs are bared. The way his pupils have gone supernova, swallowing the red iris. The way his chest heaves against mine.
He smells like sunshine and fury, cutting right through the stench of the rot.
“You caught me,” I whisper.
His growl tapers off. He doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens, pulling my hips flush against his.
“You…safe,” he rumbles. “Always.” The vibration goes straight through my chest.
The air between us suddenly feels heavier than the humidity.
My fever spikes. Or maybe it’s not the fever.
“Sarven,” I breathe.
I lift a shaking hand and touch his jaw. His skin is scalding hot.
He freezes.
Then he leans into my touch. Just a fraction.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I see the thought form in his eyes. I see the exact moment he stops thinking about the poison and starts thinking about this.
“Mih-kay-lah,” he groans.
It’s a broken sound. A desperate sound.
I make a questionable decision.
I lean up.
He leans down.
His breath washes over my lips, hot and tasting of spices.
Do it,my brain screams. Kiss the alien. Who cares about the slime. Do it.
His nose brushes mine. His grip on my thigh shifts, fingers digging in enough that I realize he’s sheathed his claws.
