Tentatively, he reaches out one clawed finger, tracing it down my cheekbone.
My breath catches. Is he going to kiss me? Do aliens kiss?
It hits me like a brick, then.
I don’t even know his name. I am such a terrible person.
“I’m Gen,” I tell him, pointing to my chest. “Genevieve. But everyone calls me Gen.” I point to him. “What’s your name?”
He grins at me, and something tells me he already knew that. Did I tell him at the welcoming ceremony? My mouth twists to the side as I try to remember. The whole thing is a blur—getting off the ship, him bizarrely feeding me, the translator being dumped in, the ship exploding…
I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying to remember, but the memories are fuzzy in the same way all my memories of the Roth invasion are—like I’m underwater and can’t make them out, can’t quite see or hear. Sometimes, though, I’ll hear loud noises and a crystal sharp memory will surface, leaving me shaken and raw, the vision of the Roth in my mind’s eye terrifying and larger than life.
And then, of course, there’s the nightmares, which I can’t ever seem to remember other than a deep-seated feeling of dread, of panic and the knowledge I’m going to die, dragging me from sleep as I choke on nothing at all.
The alien grips my chin, his fingers gentle as his eyes lock on mine.
“Gen,” he says slowly, like he’s savoring the word. He breaks into a grin.
I must be dehydrated, because I nearly swoon.
“Kanuz,” he says, removing his hand to point at himself. Satisfaction plays across his face.
“Ka-nuz?” I repeat slowly, the middle consonant somehow harsher, more guttural, than what I can say.
He laughs. “Kanuz.”
“Right,” I say, slightly breathless from his proximity. Or dehydration. Yeah. That’s it. “Kanuz.”
His fingers grip my cheeks, and he repeats his name again, eyebrows raised.
“Kanuz,” I manage, his fingers squeezing in on my mouth as I hit the second syllable. When I say it this time, he growls his approval, his strange eyes flashing as his tail swishes behind him.
Butterflies explode in my stomach, and I’m lightheaded.
“Kanuz,” I say, and he lowers his hand. “I hate asking you for help. Well, I actually hate asking anyone for help, which is a big personality flaw, to be honest.” Get control of yourself, Gen. I snort, making myself continue. “I need something to eat and drink. I’m weak.”
He makes a soothing noise, patting my cheek again, and the sexual tension disappears in the span of a heartbeat, gone so fast I’m nearly sure I’ve imagined it.
Did I want there to be tension between us?
Am I considering kissing him?
Nah. Definitely not.
Probably not.
He tugs at my hand, and I obediently follow, which is unlike me enough that I know I need some water and food ASAP. The ground is slippery underfoot, and even with my Federation issue boots, I have a hard time navigating the moss-covered stones.
“What is this place?” I ask, craning my neck to look around. Kanuz draws me tight against him, his arm around my shoulders as we go deeper into the ruin. Despite the twisted roots plunging deep into the foundation, the places where the roof’s been fractured, stones tossed to the floor, there’s an austere quality about.
Something awe-inspiring, something different. There are no windows, but huge metal sconces are set into the stone, and carvings adorn nearly every wall, so worn and weathered they’re impossible to make out. A huge dais rests at the far end of the place, and our footsteps echo against the slick stone.
There’s a solemn quietude about the place.
It reminds me of… a church.
“Is this a temple?” I ask, and Kanuz’s hand squeezes my shoulder.
“Yesssss,” he hisses, and I jerk my head towards him, shocked.
“Is my translator working? Did I just understand you?” God, I want someone to talk to, not just talk at. I am sick of our little guessing game. I want to talk to this massive alien warlord.
I want Kanuz to be my friend. I could really fucking use one. A friend.
My cheeks heat, and desire ripples through me as I give a sidelong glance to his packed-on muscles and compelling face. Okay, maybe I want more than friendship.
Fucking doesn’t seem to be a bad way to pass the time until we’re rescued or the roaring dinosaurs give up.
I scrub a hand down my face.
I must be losing what’s left of my mind.
I can’t seriously be thinking about banging the big dude.
My gaze slides to the bulge in the front of his pants, and I suck in a breath. Okay, so maybe I am seriously thinking about it. Sure, he saved me. Sure, he’s been a pretty great companion on this hellacious planet. Sure, he’s got rock-hard abs and from the looks of it, he’s packing heat in his downtown area. Sure, his face is like, really nice to look at, for a green lizard alien.
That doesn’t make it a good idea.
I’m on a diplomatic mission, for crying out loud. I can’t go around fucking the aliens because they’re hot and nice and I’m bored. What would the Federation say? Surely I’d be breaking about fifty military laws.
Not like that’s stopped me in the past.
I kick at a rock in my path. It clatters across the floor until it makes an odd plinking sound, then a splash.
Kanuz turns his head to look at me, talking away in his growly language. The heat from his body warms mine, and now that I’ve had a moment to recover from the adrenaline rush of nearly being a dino-snack, I’m all too aware of it.
The dull light glimmers off the surface of the floor next to the raised platform. Vines snake in and out of the walls, and I peer at them nervously, hoping like hell that they’re just that: vines, and not anymore fucking giant snakes. My stomach squirms at the thought of that massive thing, and my feet falter.
Kanuz peers down at me.
“There aren’t any more snakes in here, right?”
He purses his lips, shrugging one shoulder.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I tell him. “I’m not in the mood to deal with any more prehistoric snakes. I mean, I will if I have to, but I’d really rather not.”
He laughs at that, his grin lighting up his whole face, and I can’t help but grin back. For a scaly green dude, he’s got a nice smile. That or I’m losing my mind. Either or.
Maybe both!
I sigh, and he keeps smiling at me, then mutters something my translator interprets as BE NOT AFRAID! Which, while dramatically biblical, seems to be an improvement over what it’s spat out at me so far.
When he flexes his arm though, his muscles bulging, I snort, sure he’s joking, until he narrows his eyes at me, something like hesitation on his alien face.
“No, no, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I say quickly. Great, I’m being an asshole again. “Your muscles are very big.”
He flexes again, muttering something that my translator interprets as ‘not soft’ I have to bite my cheeks to keep the inane laugh inside. Instead, I reach a hand out, squeezing all that thickly muscled bicep.
My eyebrows shoot up in appreciation. I’m no slacker when it comes to gym time, but this guy puts me and any other gym bro to shame. He’s jacked.
“Wow,” I say, finally awkwardly withdrawing my hand. “That is really something.” I pat his arm, chancing a glance up at him.