“Yeah? And how far does that go? How long until you want everything a mate gets?”
He closes his eyes for a couple of heartbeats as his fingers curl into fists. “Now. I want everything now. I don’t want this clawing madness in my veins. But you did not choose me.”
“And you did not choose me. I did not cause this.”
“No.” He turns away, exposing his scarred back to me. There are so many. Some are thicker than others. All must have been painful when made.
I scrub fast, not knowing why I feel as though he has wounded me. Why my body is responding to him as though I want to be touched by him? Bridget had asked what was going on, as if she couldn’t believe that I had chosen him and fucked him. I had shrugged and told her that we’d gotten to know each other on the walk.
We had.
But it felt wrong to lie to her.
I hold the disintegrating roots in my hand. To wash my hair, I need to wet it and that means going under water. My teeth chatter and my toes are numb. I can’t stall any longer.
“Can you help me wet my hair?”
“Am I allowed to look, or must I keep my eyes closed?”
I glance at my body. “Why would you want to look?”
“Because I find you appealing to look at.”
I snort. “That is only because you are in rut.”
“That does not change that I like looking at you.”
“Yes, it does, because you’d feel that way about any woman you were with.”
“Do humans not like it when their mate has had a previous mate? It sounds as though your men have many and are never faithful.” He is facing away from me, not even daring to turn.
“Can we argue when I am not freezing?”
“I’m trying to understand why you are so upset that I had a mate previously, when we are not even mates.”
I glare at him. “Are you going to help me wet my hair or not?”
“May I turn?”
“Yes.” My teeth click together. I’m regretting wanting to be clean. It’s not as if anyone is going to notice or care besides me.
“If we go closer to the edge, you can sit, and I will wash your hair.”
“I can wash it. You don’t need to.”
His jaw clenches twice. “I would like to. If you will let me.”
Those few words seem to have cost him a lot to say.
I sit and he kneels behind me. He tips my head back and the cold water embraces my scalp. I open my eyes to see him watching me. If the heat in his eyes was real, and not some leftover rut from the woman he loved, I’d be happy to bathe in it forever.
He rubs the crushed roots into my hair, and his fingers press against my head. For a few moments, I’m able to imagine what he’d be like as a mate. Then the cold becomes too much, and I shiver. I don’t want a life with no hot baths. I don’t want a life with aliens either, but I need to get used to it, as there is no other option.
Sunif rinses my hair and I hope I won’t be picking pieces of plant out for the next couple of days. His touch lingers on my cheek. “You are too cold.”
I nod. When I go to stand, I stumble on numb legs. He catches me and I’m aware of the heat and the size of him. The way I am almost naked, and his dick is pressed against me. My skin might be cold, but my blood is hot as though he is doing much more than holding me.
“I am sorry I can’t offer you my first rut.”
