“You do not need to thank me for that.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I could not have done anything else.”
“You could have,” I insist. “You could have gone on without me.”
He tilts his chin, his dark hair falling around his shoulders. Staring at me, he licks the tip of one fang, and a little shudder runs through me.
“Once, I considered this. Not to leave you, but to go find help. I got as far as the entrance of the cave before I realized it was a terrible plan. No. I would not leave you, not even to get help.”
Right, then.
“Now, you must rest and heal, so that we can make our way to Edrobaz and meet up with the rest of your crew.”
Worry surges through me, and I try to sit up, but he presses me back down.
“Do you think they’re okay? My crew?” As soon as the questions leave my mouth, I feel stupid. How would he know? They’re all capable, trained soldiers and officers, just like me. They have to be okay.
“I think that if they are anything like you, my fierce mate, my wife, then they are thriving.”
I give a hoarse laugh at that, smiling up at him. He says it completely sincerely though, and the affection I have for him, the gratitude, grows warmer. Bigger, like a bright star.
A happy chirrup sounds, and the zoleh scampers inside the cave, bounding over to me and curling up on my lap.
“She has not left your side. I think you have a companion for life.”
“Are they pets? Do Suevans often keep them?”
“No.” His head shakes emphatically. “The zoleh do not care much for our species, though I do not know why. Winning one’s favor is exceedingly good luck.”
I run a hand over the alien animal’s soft fur. “It reminds me a little of a cat. They’re temperamental pets we have on Earth. Except… they only have two eyes, and one tail.”
“The zoleh are likely much more efficient predators than your Earth cats.”
I snort. “Probably, considering they have to live on this planet.”
Small hurt flickers across his face, but it’s there and gone before I have a chance to pin it down.
“You need sleep,” he reprimands.
I turn on my side, wincing as pain shoots through my ribs. The zoleh readjusts, getting comfy all over again. “I don’t want to sleep. Apparently, that’s all I’ve been doing for the last four days straight.”
Amused, his mouth quirks up. “Then eat some more.”
“I can do that.”
I reach for the bowl, but he beats me to it. Pressing the spoon against my lips, he feeds me himself, smiling as he does so.
“And tell me more about this crew of yours.”
I raise an eyebrow, swallowing the bitter herbal broth. There’s a piece of tender meat, too, and I chew it carefully. Exhaustion tugs at me, but my mind is awake. How close did I get to death?
My eyes shutter, and fear jolts through me.
I almost died, and this alien, my alien husband, saved me. There’s no doubt in my mind.
“Ni-Kee?” he says, his hand circling my wrist, squeezing gently.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. I’m nearly overcome with emotion, but I want to do as he asked. I want to tell him about the incredible women that shared this mission with me. I want to know if Earth’s going to get our interplanetary defense system. I want…
I look up into his diamond-pupiled eyes, and I know what I want.
But it scares me.
It scares me.
So I shove it down, and start talking. “Gen is my second-in-command. Genevieve is her full name—”
He interrupts, trying to pronounce the word and failing miserably. A grin dances across his face. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s French.” I’m laughing at the look on his face, and then we both grow quiet, smiling at each other.
“Tell me about this Gen.”
“She’s our weapons specialist, and one of the best I’ve ever seen in hand-to-hand.”
“Which one was she?” He points to his head, and I realize he’s asking about her hair color. Of course.
“She’s the blonde one. Muscled. Really pretty. The prettiest of all of us.”
“Blonde?” He squints, pronouncing the word slowly, and I realize it must not translate, because the Suevans all have long blue-black hair.
“Golden? Yellow?” I try. “But she’s the most beautiful of us all, so she’s fairly easy to pick out.”
“No.” He purses his lip, incredulity written across his brow. “This Gen cannot be the most beautiful one, because that human is lying in front of me.”
I snort, but I’m brought up short by his sincerity. It’s stupid, but I’m strangely flattered, and that little warm ball of affection grows hotter.
“Yellow hair?” he repeats, his eyes growing distant. “Fair of face… yes. I remember this Gen. You say she is fierce, too?”
“Not just fierce,” I tell him. “Gen can be downright mean. She doesn’t put up with nonsense, not from anyone. She’s a great first officer, and she’s even better in a pinch.” I sit up on my elbows. “And she’s going to murder me when she sees me.”
“I will protect you,” Draz says earnestly. “But I hope she does not try.”
“It’s a figure of speech.” I pause, licking my lips, and Draz takes that as an open invitation to shovel more soup into my mouth.
At least, I hope it’s a figure of speech.
“Who did she, erm...” My mind still doesn’t want to admit to it, but I soldier on. “Marry?”
“She is married to our prince, Kanuz.”
I choke on the broth he’s dutifully shoving in my mouth.
“Prince?”
“Yes. He insisted on having a mate, too, and he cannot be denied.”
“Oh my God. Gen and your prince. Is she going to kill him?” This time, I’m not being figurative. I’m worried about an intergalactic incident. I’m worried my second-in-command will literally chop the huevos off the Suevan prince if he so much as looks at her the wrong way.
“He may be a prince, but he trained with all of us. The warlords that were chosen to wed the humans, that is. He is used to getting his way.” A slight grin pulls his full lips up in a smile, softening his blunt features.
“I remember him saying that he would pick the most beautiful of the humans, but I got to you first,” Draz continues, a smug smile on his lips.
I remember it then, striding down the ship’s ramp, the gargantuan Suevan delegation approaching us, and the way Draz’s eyes held me, pinning me in place. The way he immediately claimed me, the way his muscled shoulders rippled, the menacing scar across his eye.
On impulse, I reach a hand up, tracing the marred flesh with two fingers.
Draz stills under my touch, then groans, pressing his cheek into my hand. His skin isn’t as hard here, which is likely why he has such a gruesome scar. His eyes close, and there’s such longing etched across his face that I suck in a breath.
My hand falls away. Draz’s eyes open, and for a moment, we simply stare at one another.
“Sleep now,” he says. “Tomorrow you can tell me of the rest of your crew, and I will tell you of my warlords. And tomorrow we will work on regaining your strength.”
“And a bath,” I tell him.
“I will help you bathe,” he says solemnly. “I will not have you drown because you are ill, so do not think to be shy about your body. I swear I will not touch you. Not until you ask me to, my wife.”
“Okay,” I agree.
He blinks at me as though he expected more arguing.
Frankly, I’m too tired to argue, and I close my eyes. Draz’s face swims in my mind’s eye, along with his broad shoulders and muscled chest.
I may be sick and weak, but the thought of asking him to touch me is becoming more and more appealing.