He got most of those injuries while protecting me from those creatures after all. I feel kind of responsible in a round-about way.
I’ll ask him again once we’ve both had rest. And if he still won’t answer, maybe I’ll talk to the Healer myself.
“Here,” he says, turning and standing. He comes closer, bringing with him a collection of things clutched in his huge hands. “I asked the other humans what it is that females need. I wanted to be prepared for when I found you.”
I peer into the cradle of his palms and see a crude, wide-toothed comb, whittled from wood, a small cup made from lumpy clay, and a folded piece of soft hide.
“They told me other things as well,” Aloryk continues, sounding apologetic. “But I did not know what a ‘strong-ass maga-rita’ or a ‘big-boy thruster three thousand’ was, so…”
A snort-laugh escapes me. “Were those Chastity’s suggestions?” I’ve only spent the better half of an afternoon with her, but it sounded just like something she’d say.
Aloryk nods with a smile before a confused look crosses his face. “And then she said thatIcould be my future female’s ‘big- three-thousand-thruster-boy’ so that one did not really matter.” He shakes his head at himself and shrugs, “or something like that. I forget.”
My cheeks warm as I grin up at him before returning my attention to his gifts. “You made these?” I ask. Aloryk nods aboveme. I’ve never had someone actually make me things with their own hands before.
Picking each one up, I notice something; on the comb is a carved shape, and it appears on the cup too. Holding up the delicate soft hide, I see he has stitched on a patch there too.
“This can be used for bathing or we can make it into a covering for you,” Aloryk explains, but my eyes are still intent on the sewn-on patch shape;
A heart.
It seems so out of place here, in this primitive place. Like he’d seen a Valentine’s balloon randomly out here in the jungle and wanted to copy it. But here it is - on these gifts this alien has made for me. I lay the patch out on my palm and trace the shape with my finger. Does he even know what a heart means?
“It is your skin-etching.”
The words are deep and quiet as they rumble from above me like soft thunder.
“I dreamed of you for so many nights. And I would see this shape on your skin.” Aloryk tells me, his tail flicking at the corner of my vision. Slowly, he tips the remaining gifts into one hand and uses his free one to join me with tracing around the heart, too.
I find myself transfixed by watching his thick, calloused finger slowly dragging along the edge of the shape. Then he stops, and I hold my breath while I follow the course of that big hand as he reaches forward to gently push aside the fabric of my pajama top and reveal my tattoo.
Slowly, Aloryk resumes his heart-tracing. Only, it’s the one on my skin now, and I know if humans had skin-stars like Trixikka, then mine would all be racing to meet his touch. Every bit of energy in my body feels poised and focused on that delicate, yet maddening drag of his fingertip even though it’s as soft as a feather.
“What does it mean, this heart you gave yourself?” he asks, all his attention on his own gentle stroking of my skin.
“It-” I feel suddenly flustered. No-one’s ever asked me about this particular tattoo before. It’s such an innocuous shape, so simple, so…boring.
On the surface at least.
It was difficult to do, too, considering I inked it myself, using a mirror. I had to follow the stencil lines so perfectly in the reflected image.
“It’s just a heart,” I lie, watching as Aloryk’s gaze comes up to my face now, like he can read the untruth written across my features just as easily as if it were the headlines in a newspaper. “Well, I-” I find I can’t lie to that face. Those earnest, soulful-looking violet eyes, the tempting lips, and those softly twinkling freckles. I take a breath before continuing. “When I was younger, my mom found out that my dad was leading a double-life.” Aloryk’s brow creases ever so slightly, his skin-stars rushing there as if they were trying to soothe out the confusion. “He had me with my mom, but he also had another woman, and two children with her. The eldest - a girl - was pretty much my age, give or take a few months.” Aloryk stops tracing my tattoo now, and I feel compelled to reach for his hand and hold it. So, I do. “Dad had the kind of job where he was always away on business trips. At least, that’s what my mom thought. Turns out, he was spending most of his time two towns over, making a second little family. On the day Mom found out, she made him choose.”
I look down at where I’m clutching Aloryk’s one big hand with both of mine, feeling the heat of anger and pain that comes with recounting the memory. The swallow I take is thick and uncomfortable,
“He chose the other family,” I whisper. “He left, and he never came back. Never called. It was like Mom and I were just toys that he’d lost interest in.” Forcing myself to look up to Alorykand meet his eyes, I sniff away any attempt my body is making to try and cry. Iwill notcry for that man. “When he left it really felt like he stopped loving me that day. Like he had moved on to newer, better, smarter, prettier toys. But I’m not a toy. I have a heart and a soul, andfeelings. So I gave myself that tattoo to remind myself of that fact.”
There’s nothing but the sounds of the jungle bugs chirping and buzzing for a moment or two before Aloryk comments as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, “all that hurt and meaning for one little shape?”
I’m about to tell him that I once thought about adding to it; a dagger, some teardrops, some thorns or barbed wire. Everything I thought to add felt too cliché. But Aloryk whirls around and drops in front of another trunk before I can even get one word out. “What is your father’s name?” he asks over his shoulder.
I feel my brows knit and I shake my head. “What? Why?”
Aloryk stands, now facing me with both hands full of those pretty glowing stones. “Because I am going to the Temple to make life-stone offerings.” I’m still lost, but he continues with a frown on his very serious looking face. “If I pray to the Goddesses for them to bring your father here-”
I interrupt his angry babbling with a laugh. “You’ll what? Beat him up?”
Aloryk’s jaw sets to granite. “I do not know what it is I shall do, but no-one can just hurt my mate like that without punishment.” The words are said with a frustrated growl and my eye catches on the way the tuft of his tail curls and twitches like an enraged lion bound to the confines of his cage.
