Page 14 of Alien’s Retrieved Mate

"I told you about my student loans, Kel. I told you about the time I accidentally set my microwave on fire making ramen. I told you — oh my god." She pressed her hands to her face. "I told you about my MOM."

"I—"

"I called you Glow Stick to your FACE."

Her emotions through the bond were a chaotic storm: embarrassment and anger, and underneath it something I identified as hurt. She had been vulnerable. She had thought she was speaking to someone who couldn't understand, and she had been honest in a way she might not have been otherwise.

I had taken that honesty without her consent.

"I apologize," I said. "I should have informed you immediately."

"Yeah. You should have." She crossed her arms. Her jaw was tight. Then she exhaled, the tension draining from her shoulders. "Okay. Okay, we're going to table the betrayal of trust for now because I have about nine hundred questions and they've been piling up for two days."

"I will answer what I can."

"Great. First question." She pointed at my forearms. "What's with the glowing?"

"It is a biological response. Common to my species."

"A biological response to WHAT?"

I held her gaze. She held mine. The jungle hummed around us. My markings pulsed.

"Various stimuli," I said.

She narrowed her eyes. Her disbelief hit me like a physical pressure.

"Uh huh," she said, in a tone that made it clear she was not remotely satisfied with that answer. "Various stimuli. Right."

She turned and started walking again. Then stopped. Turned back.

"Eighteen days?"

"Approximately."

"Eighteen days of walking through an alien jungle."

"Yes."

"With no coffee."

"I do not know what coffee is."

"It's the only thing standing between me and complete civilizational collapse, and the fact that this entire planet doesn't have any might actually be the worst part of being abducted by aliens."

She turned again and resumed walking. Ahead of me this time, which was incorrect. I needed to lead to identify threats. I caught up in three strides and moved in front of her.

"I lead."

"Oh, now you want to talk. Three hours of golden silence and NOW you're chatty."

She was not going to let this go. I could feel it.

Seventeen days, twenty-one hours remaining.

8

TAYLOR