Before I come to a conclusion, the female returns, the refreshed bowl of water in her hands. Her curiosity is printed openly all over her face. She seems particularly fascinated by my silvery skin, occasionally darting glimpses of admiration.
She rolls the blanket down to my hips, exposing my upper body to the air. I watch her, following her every move. She pauses, staring at my exposed body in silence.
I realize that her eyes are filled with admiration. I swell with pride as she admires my body, my Cryzor strength and power. There’s awe in her eyes, an apparent approval that sends an unfamiliar shift down my spine. The look she gives is compassionate, awed, and curious. But most importantly, there’s no loathing or disgust, only intrigue.
The sound of wind rustling through the tree outside, along with her soft voice, lulls me into a relaxed state. My muscles go lax as the female washes my stomach and chest.
My senses are tantalized by a new enticing scent that rises above the aroma of the floral, soapy water. It’s intoxicating in a way I can’t quite describe – sweet and musky, warm with an alluring hint of spice. With a start, I realize that the scent is rising from the female’s skin, permeating the air around her, teasing and tormenting my heightened senses. It compels me, making me want to draw closer – to press my nose against her skin to find the source of the scent. A primal need, foreign but incredibly potent strikes, urging me to take this female in my arms.
I grit my teeth and push away the urge to reach out and touch her. I force myself to complete stillness as she bathes my chest and stomach. There’s an efficiency to her touch, but also an unexpected tenderness that catches me off guard. It feels… foreign, that surprising softness. Yet, there’s an inexplicable sense of familiarity in it too, echoing something buried deep within me – far from the roar of battle and conquest, something more primitive and ancient.
A flurry of forgotten memories surface within my mind, like brittle leaves twirling up from the ground on the wings of abreeze. My mind pulls up the memories of my progenitor – a female of the Cryzor race.
My mother was nothing like this human female. Her form was far more dangerous – hardened, sharp… she was a warrior. But something about this female’s caress makes me think of her. My mother’s touch was never this tender, this soft, but it was caring in its own way – a sort of fierce, affectionate ruggedness.
Images of her are vague, softened by time and the brutal conditioning of my warrior training pod. I hadn’t thought of the female who birthed me in years. Once I had been placed in my pod, I focused wholly on training and surviving. I had never seen her again.
I remain silent and still, focusing entirely on the woman’s touch as it trails over my skin. It gnaws at me in a way I can’t grasp. So subtle yet profound at the same time. This female’s tenderness weaves through the threads of distant memories – ties of a past unremembered until this moment, in her gentle, soft hands. Overwhelmed by the complexity of these unfamiliar feelings, I let my eyes slide fully shut, surrendering to the unexpected sensations these touches stir within me.
Suddenly, the female’s movements falter, and she makes a noise – a slight, wounded sound, like an animal in distress. I look down to find her gaze locked onto my chest, her brows furrowed, lips slightly agape in horror. Somewhere, amidst her shock and sadness, a spark of defiant anger flickers in her eyes. I watch as she traces the edge of a scar with her finger.
I swallow hard, claws extending from my fingertips without explicit command. I can easily withstand pain, fear, and anger but her horror and sorrow make me want to fight – to defend her from whatever is causing her distress. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice my claws and I force them to retract. But the question spirals in my mind: Is it the scar that unsettles her or what it represents? Is her delicate nature bothered by mydisfigurements or is she upset at what I’ve been through? I shake away this useless pathway of thought. It matters not. I just need to heal and escape – it does not matter what this female thinks of me or what I’ve endured.
The female murmurs a few quiet words I wish I could understand before returning to her ministrations.
She runs the cloth up my neck, sending small rivulets of warm water trailing into the hollow at the base of my throat. With my eyes now closed, every touch is amplified to my senses. It is almost a torture. I wonder what the look on the female’s face is as she gently runs the cloth along the ridge of my brow. I have to work to keep my body pliant and lax when my muscles want to become as tense and taunt as inflated solar sails.
A frisson of electricity erupts where her fingers meet my skin, the sensation sending a powerful jolt through my system. I mentally steel myself as her fingertips brush a scar marring my jaw, an old mark left from a sparring match with one of my pod-mates. The sensation of her touch is foreign and overwhelming, a stark contrast to the harsh realities I’ve faced.
I can’t parse the feelings I’m experiencing, so I decide to ignore them for now. I can analyze them later when I’m not overwhelmed with sensation.
As she finishes washing my face, I crack my eyes open to continue to watch her. The sunlight makes her pale skin glow in the dim room. She’s entrancing, this human woman, with her strange, meticulous care for a being she ought to fear.
Humans truly are an enigma.
Finally, the female finishes my bath and gently wraps me in the thick covering. With the care that she has shown me this day, I know that I will return her gesture and make sure not to injure her when I escape. She has earned my favor.
CHAPTER 18
Lily
After cleaning up after bathing Stormy, I collapse into an overstuffed chair nearby, keeping a watchful eye on my patient. He looks so much better than the gruesome blood-covered zombie lookalike that dragged himself out of the ship’s wreckage. For some unknown reason, that sight of Stormy clean and resting peacefully eases some of the tension in my shoulders, allowing me to truly feel the weight of the past day’s events. I’ve been running on adrenalin and am feeling my lack of sleep. I grit my teeth against the pull of sleep and force myself to stay awake. I need to monitor him just in case his condition changes.
However, my eyelids start drooping against my will as fatigue sets in. Stormy has remained stable for hours, and I can’t ignore my body’s plea for rest anymore. I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute.
That is the last coherent thought I can remember before I tumble into darkness, despite my intention otherwise – theexhaustion of the past day finally drags me down in a relentless wave.
I’m unsure how much time passes before a hissing noise jolts me awake. My eyes snap open in alarm, immediately focusing on the sight before me. And, of course, it’s just Mango causing his own brand of trouble.
There he is, his fluffy golden form perched confidently on the alien’s chest, unabashedly getting acquainted with our guest – who is awake. Holy shit! I sit up in shock, watching Mango arch his back and hiss right into Stormy’s face. I freeze, my muscles locking in shock and terror as the room seems to constrict around me. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs as I watch the alien’s white eyes glow brightly in the dim cabin light. A harsh growl resonates from his throat, escalating into a fearsome snarl as he bares his teeth at Mango. Oh my god, the alien’s going to eat my cat.
And, of course, Mango, that fearless idiot, is hissing back. My cat, who has all three of his brain cells plus his sense of preservation off on a cigarette break, is sitting on the massive chest of his ‘enemy’ hissing in his face.
I’m out of the chair and across the room before I can think. I scoop Mango off Stormy’s chest and rush him out of the room, tossing him into the bedroom and closing the door in his belligerent face before he can charge right back into danger.
I return to the living room, sudden silence hanging heavy in the air. My so-called ‘patient’ is exactly where I left him. Laid out on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket I’d tucked around him, trying his best to appear unconscious. He looks almost innocent like this, despite being the size of a Viking warrior on steroids. I think he’s trying to appear weak and vulnerable which would be hysterical if I wasn’t so frightened.
I stare down at his still, peaceful face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was still passed out, but I know what I saw.
