She smiled at that and thought about the impossibility of it all: an alien warrior living in secret on Earth, hiding from humans, eating whatever "palatable creatures" he could find. The logistics alone were a nightmare. Where would he stay? How would they explain him? What happened when someone inevitably saw an eight-foot predator stalking through the shadows?
But she also thought about waking up like this. His body curved around hers, his presence a constant warmth in the back of her mind. Having him there when the nightmares came, when the world felt too heavy, when she needed someone whounderstood what it meant to be built for violence and trying to be more.
"Okay," she said.
He went very still. "Okay?"
"Stay. On Earth. With me." She turned in his arms, looked up at his scarred, alien face. "We'll figure out the rest."
Through the bond, she felt his response; a surge of emotion so intense it stole her breath. Joy and relief and a fierce, burning protectiveness that wrapped around her like armor.
He pressed his forehead to hers, his skin fever-warm against her own.
"Yes," he said, the word a low growl beneath the English. "We will figure out the rest."
CHAPTER 28
She was glad it was her.
The words hit him like a blow to the chest.
He had spent decades expecting nothing but duty and violence and eventual deterioration. And now she lay in his arms, looking at him with eyes that held no fear, and said she was glad.
He had needed this. Neededher. Without her, he would have fallen.
He did not have words for what that meant. His language did not contain them. The translator disc could not bridge the gap between what he felt and what he could express.
So he kissed her instead.
Not like before. Not the desperate, claiming hunger that had consumed them in the clearing. This was slower and gentler. A conversation conducted in touch rather than words.
She responded in kind. Her hands came up to frame his face, fingers tracing the ridges of his brow, the line of his jaw, the scars that mapped his history. Each touch sent warmth cascading through the bond: her curiosity, her tenderness, her desire building slowly beneath the surface.
"Let me," she said against his mouth. "I want to?—"
She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to. Through the bond, he felt what she wanted, and the knowing of it made his entire body go taut with anticipation.
She pushed against his chest, and he let her roll him onto his back. The jungle floor was soft beneath him, loam and leaves, and she rose above him like a vision from the fevered imaginings he had never allowed himself to have. Morning light caught in her hair, limned her body in gold, and he could not look away.
"Stay still," she said. There was command in her voice.
Every instinct screamed to flip her beneath him, to pin her, to claim. The predator in his bones did not surrender. Did not yield. Did not allow itself to be vulnerable.
He stayed still. Because she had asked him to. Because he wanted to give her this—his submission, his trust, the parts of himself he had never offered anyone.
She explored him. Her hands moved over his chest, his shoulders, the dermal plating that covered his torso. She traced the seams where armor met skin, found the places where sensation concentrated, learned the geography of his body with methodical attention. Through the bond, he felt her fascination. Not revulsion at what he was. Genuine curiosity. Genuine appreciation.
No one had ever touched him like this. No one had everwantedto.
Her mouth followed her hands. She pressed kisses to his chest, his throat, the ridge of his collarbone. Her tongue traced a scar that ran from his shoulder to his sternum, and the sensation made him shudder. His claws extended involuntarily, gouging furrows in the earth beneath him as he fought the urge to grab her, to roll her beneath him, to take.
He stayed still. For her. Only for her.
"You're beautiful," she murmured against his skin. "Do you know that? All these scars, all this—" Her hand spread flat over his chest. "You're beautiful."
The words did not translate. Beauty was not a concept the Kha'Ruun applied to themselves. They were tools and weapons, function given form.
But she looked at him like he was more than that. Like he was worth more than his capacity for destruction.
