My own hands had drifted, one resting on his waist, the other supporting the back of his skull. The water made it easy to move him, to draw him closer without strain. He fit perfectly into the space I made for him, as if we’d practiced it a thousand times.
He was shaking now, and I didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation, but it didn’t matter. I wanted him. I wanted him with a depth that made my vision blur and my ears ring. When I kissed him, it was careful, nothing like the wild, bruising force I’d used on other lovers in the past. I held myself back, made it gentle, just the touch of lips, as if he were a thing made of fire and I’d burn myself if I pressed too hard. I didn’t nip him with my fangs, though I knew he felt them when he stiffened and pulled back as he brushed his tongue against one, but only for a second, then he leaned in, chasing the contact, sighing into my mouth.
His taste was new and strange and utterly addictive. I kissed him again, slower, learning the shape of him, and he let me, hands sliding up to cup my face, trembling as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. When we broke apart, we were both panting, eyes wide, staring. The world had narrowed to the little space around us - the water, the stone, the breath between us.
14
ROBBIE
I touched my lips, still feeling the press of his against mine. What the hell had I just done? I’d kissed him, that’s what. Okay, sure, he’d kissed me first, but damn! Okay, I needed to not let things get weird now. We were both adults. He’d swooped in and saved my bacon, so it was natural I was crushing on his hot ass, right? And he definitely was interested in me, too, or he wouldn’t have just initiated all that with me. But now what?
Luckily, Gree-Gree seemed to know what to do next, as he hefted himself out of the pool, extending a hand out to me. I took it, happy for the assist climbing out. These guys really needed to invent pool ladders or add steps or something. He took me over to the bench in the alcove where we’d left the basket.
He prowled the length of the alcove, drying himself with quick, impatient swipes of a towel that looked more like a woven tablecloth than the terrycloth towels I was accustomed to. The water had made his fur puff out, and in the torchlight, it looked almost silver at the tips. When he turned, I saw his pupils blown wide, the blue ring around the black gone molten and sharp. His ears were pointed forward, tracking my every movement, and his tail had started up a slow, hypnotic twitch, like a snake considering a strike.
I rubbed myself dry with the other towel, careful to not jostle my bad arm, then wrapped it around myself as I tried to not stare back, but my eyes kept returning to the line of his neck, to the way the fine fur followed the roll of muscle over his shoulders, to the way every inch of him seemed made for violence but also for warmth. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop shivering. My body was stuck in the moment from earlier, where the world had narrowed down to the heat of his hands and the rumble of his chest. I wanted to say it was just the aftermath of being rescued, the endorphin dump, but I wasn’t that good at lying, even to myself.
Gree-Gree finished drying and stood over me, towel slung over his arm, pupils still pinned directly to my own. He crouched down until we were eye level. His nose twitched, and he sniffed at my neck, slow and deliberate, drawing in a lungful of air like he needed it to live, and it was in short supply. I felt every hair on my body stand up. The only thing I could think of was how animals back home did that to figure out if someone was a threat or a meal or a friend, or…well, a mate. I swallowed, my pulse thrumming, and he made a pleased chuff in the back of his throat.
Then he did it again, this time at the crown of my head, and I caught myself holding still for him, the way a cat would when another cat was trying to decide whether to lick you or bite you. I half expected him to start grooming me again, maybe actually licking me this time, but instead he took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a sound like a diesel engine downshifting.
Another of his people walked into the alcove, this one a little shorter, with deep blue-gray fur and a braided silver cord around one ear, completely naked and obviously fresh from one of the bathing pools, as he was wet. Gree-Gree’s head snapped up, and in a blink, he was standing between me and the stranger, shoulders squared, tail now lashing hard enough to thump against the stone.
The other alien stopped dead, ears flicking flat. “Grihhr.” The word was a quick, nervous cough of a greeting. He gestured to a basket with his things in.
Gree-Gree rumbled, low and handed the basket to him before pointing at the way out. The message was clear in any language: “Don’t even think about staying here.”
For a second, I just gawked at the two of them, trying to parse what had just happened. The bluish furred alien turned on his heel and vanished, presumably to go dry off and redress in another alcove.
Gree-Gree turned back to me, and his eyes were wilder than before. He knelt again, crowding into my personal space, rubbing his cheeks against me, and I realized that he was scent-marking me. Not just checking if I was okay or even if I’d be a good lay - he was making a goddamn declaration. I didn’t know the customs here, but I’d watched enough nature documentaries to get the gist. My heart slammed in my chest, and for a second, I wondered if I was in danger, or if I’d just signed up for some kind of permanent arrangement without knowing it.
But then he reached out and cupped the back of my head, gently, thumb rubbing along the base of my skull. It felt so good I could’ve melted through the bench. He made a noise, softer now, and leaned in to press his forehead against mine, just for a beat, before pulling back.
I let out a shaky laugh. “You realize I have no idea what’s actually going on, right?”
He cocked his head, like he was trying to make sense of my words, so I said, “Rah-bee,” and tapped my own chest, then pointed at him. “Gree-Gree?” I guess I wanted to see if he’d respond to the gesture and understand I was asking about more than simply our names, or if I’d just embarrassed myself in front of a seven-foot tiger man.
He made the rumbly noise again, and this time I was pretty sure it was a laugh.
There was an awkward moment while I tried to figure out if I was supposed to say or do something else, but then he took the towel from me, taking a large shirt from the basket and dropping it over my head. I carefully slipped my arms into the armholes and laughed. I looked like I was wearing a dress. Gree-Gree seemed to really like it, though, his fingers now grazing my jaw, his tail curled around my ankle, a heavy, comforting weight as he purred.
And that was when it hit me: he wasn’t just protecting me from others. He was claiming me. Like, for real. I should’ve been freaked out, but instead my stomach did a slow somersault and I realized, with a mortifying clarity, that I didn’t want him to stop.
He did, though, but only to pull on his clothes. A faint noise from behind us made him glance around, ears pricking. He stood, keeping a hand on my shoulder, and when another of his people passed by, what was most likely a kid given the size of him, he shifted to block the line of sight between us, his body a warm, impenetrable wall. Even after the kid was gone, he kept the contact, his palm heavy and reassuring.
I stood there, pulse racing, watching him and trying to piece together what it all meant. He was bigger, stronger, and - let’s face it - a hell of a lot more equipped to handle whatever this planet threw at us. I bet he’d even give our kidnappers a run for their money if any of them survived and showed up. I should have felt trapped, maybe even scared, given that once more, I had an alien taking agency over me, but I didn’t. I felt safe.
I ran a finger along the fabric of the shirt, feeling how soft and thick it was, how it smelled faintly of him even through the lingering sulfur. I looked up at him and found him already watching me, pupils huge and lips parted just enough to show a glint of fang.
He crouched down, inches from my face, and I saw the exact moment when he decided something. He leaned in, nosed at my cheek, and then he licked the side of my face. Not a cat bath, not rough or wet, just a gentle flicking rasp of the tongue, like punctuation at the end of a sentence.
My breath caught, and I laughed, half delirious. “You licked me so I’m yours, huh?”
He made the rumble again and set his chin on top of my head, arms bracketing me in on both sides. It was possessive, yes, but not suffocating. I leaned into him, letting myself just exist in the moment. Whatever was happening here, it was out of my hands, out of my depth. And for the first time since the car crash, since waking up on the floor of that ship, since realizing I was never going home, I didn’t feel helpless. I just felt…wanted. It was wonderful. I took a shaky breath, and the world tilted a little. Was this how crushes felt for people who weren’t absolute disasters at relationships? It was both terrifying and incredible, like standing at the edge of a high dive and knowing you were about to jump, whether you wanted to or not.
He pulled away, and his tail loosened just a little, more a caress than a restraint. I could still feel where it had touched me, the phantom pressure of his fur brushing against my bare skin.
“Rah-bee,” he said, taking my hand in his while stuffing the cloth, soap, and towels into the basket. He picked it up and led me back out. We walked the path back to his home, and I couldn’t help myself - I kept sneaking looks up at him, wondering what was going to happen once we were there. The answer turned out to be pretty mundane.
