Page 37 of Married to the Alien Mountain Man

“I still wouldn’t drop you,” he replied without hesitation. “I’d take the brunt of the fall on my knees if I had to. But you would never touch the ground.”

This big, green son of a gun. I actually believed him.

“Why are you carrying me?” I whispered. Already, the fight was oozing out of me like blood from a wound. Oaken’s body heat seeped through the blanket, warming me, coaxing me to melt into his solidity.

“Because I can tell that you are tired. Maybe even sore.”

“How the hell can you tell that?” My pride had been injured over and over again tonight, but at the very least, I could honestly say I hadn’t once complained about my sore legs or my feet while we’d walked.

So how could he possibly have noticed?

“Because you started slowing down. And your gait changed,” he said simply, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.

“My gait? What about your gait?” I countered. “You’re the one with a broken foot!”

“It is not broken anymore.”

“You know what I mean…”

Man, this felt good.Toogood. My treacherous neck gave out, my head tipping to the side to lean against his chest. His skin was hot beneath my cheek. I felt the pounding of his heart, and found it to be a strangely comforting rhythm. Fighting a yawn, I tried one more time – though maybe not as hard as I should have – to convince him to put me down.

“I can walk on my own, Oaken,” I protested drowsily.

“I know,” he murmured against my hair. And then, in the last moments before I fell asleep, he softly added, “But you don’t have to. Not while you’ve got me.”

16

OAKEN

Holding Jaya while she slept so soundly in my arms brought me more pleasure than I ever could have anticipated. I felt that I carried something very special. Something sacred. I cradled her close, savouring the feel of her warm breaths beneath my throat, the slight weight of her against my body, her heady human fragrance.

Between Jaya no longer slowing me down, and the fact that I was enjoying myself so immensely, the way home went much more quickly than the first part of our trip had. In what felt like no time at all, I had reached my property, and was carefully bringing my sleeping wife through the door.

Now came the question of where I would put her.

But really, there was no question at all. Of course, I would put my sleeping wife in my bed.

The real question was, where would I sleep, once she was in my bed?

Grimacing, I decided I would tackle that issue later. Avoiding the floorboards I knew squeaked loudly, I brought Jaya into my bedroom.

Selfishly, I did not put her down right away. I lingered at the side of the bed for a moment, memorizing the way she felt in my arms. And memorizing the way she looked, with her lovely face resting so comfortably against my chest.

Eventually, though, and not without a significant amount of regret, I did put her down, easing her slender frame onto the mattress. I was not sure I could get her positioned beneath my quilt without waking her. So instead, I spread the leather bedroll blanket I’d already given her over the entirety of her body. Luckily, this blanket was sized for a Zabrian, and therefore there would be no part of her left out in the cold

I considered what to do about her boots. Taking off any other items of clothing while she slept seemed entirely out of the question. Even the mere thought of it made me feel like I had come down with some sort of fever.

But taking off her boots would be alright. Wouldn’t it?

I knew I certainly did not enjoy sleeping in my boots after a long day. I doubted Jaya would enjoy it, either. And as far as I could tell, humans did not hold any special modesty towards their feet. I’d seen Magnolia’s bare feet, both inside her home and mine, several times.

And I was her husband, wasn’t I? At least for the next fourteen days. Surely, a husband would be allowed to remove his tired wife’s boots for her.

I would do it, I decided. But I would be quick about it, so that Jaya didn’t wake up and think that I was doing something perverted to her in her sleep.

Using my tail, I held the blanket away from Jaya’s feet and undid the boots’ laces. I slipped off her right boot, but as I was just taking off her left, movement caught my eye, and I thought that maybe I had already failed, and that my wife was waking up.

But it was not Jaya. It was the strange little ship bot that seemed to live inside the pocket of Jaya’s trousers. Its shiny ball of a body was propelled on eight metal spindles, and it moved with surprising quickness down Jaya’s leg, coming to rest on the mattress by her ankle.

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