Page 52 of I'm Not Your Pet

Long enough his lunch break was surely over. And when he’d finally peeled himself off me—literally—he’d herded me back into our bedroom with big gentle hands, his eyes still wide, food forgotten entirely.

The big guy still lookedterrified—of what, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m so sorry,”I said again in my own language—even though I knew he couldn’t understand. The moment we were safe inside our room again, he stopped shaking quite so much. “I’m so sorry, Roark. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful. I’m sorry.” He’d hugged me close again, his tendrilstickling along my body—less invasive this time—but no less enthusiastic.

Roark’s voice was hoarse as he murmured against my hair in his strange gravelly language. The words sounded like reassurances. And that…fuck. That hurt even more. To know that I was the one that scared him, and here he was, trying to comfort me. When he’d pulled back to look me in the eye, his spots were pink again.

His eyes were soft.

They said,I’m sorry.

They said,forgive me.

They said,I’m not perfect.

“Thank you,” Roark said in words I could understand.

He cradled my face in his massive hands. Comforting and warm, they covered my ears, blocking out the rest of the world so that all I knew was the fathomless baby blue of his gaze. His eyes reminded me of summer days back home, of clear skies, and the oceans I’d never visit.

When he shut them, I missed his eyes immediately. That loss, however, was easily forgotten when Roark began rubbing our noses together. Rubbery and soft, his surface tickled mine. Back and forth, back and forth.

Then he hugged me close again.

For a long.

Long.

Time.

I had never been more relieved in all my life that someone had accepted my apology.

I’d thought that would be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Because after we’d both settled, Roark didn’t take me out again. He didn’t take me to the control room like he had the firstday he’d brought me outside. He didn’t take me to the cafeteria for lunch. And he certainly didn’t take me anywhere new.

And I didn’t ask. Because we both needed a break, I thought. And I understood that as steady as he was, even Roark needed recovery time after panicking the way he had. We didn’t go hungry, but neither of us spoke the rest of the day. Not at lunch—when Roark buzzed someone using his tablet to bring us food like they had the first days I’d been on board—and not later, when he’d returned for dinner with plates balanced on his limbs.

That night was when the nightmares started with a vengeance. Like I’d triggered something in him. He was shaky and sweaty, droplets forming on his surface in beads—his chest shuddering with fear. When I petted his head fin to soothe him, he jerked awake, and that same faraway look remained in his gaze.

Humming softly, I gathered his head in my lap, trying to undo the damage I’d done—and failing.

Roark’s eyes, when they cleared, searched for mine. It was only when our gazes met that he relaxed. Still quaking, he reached up with one hand and stroked over my cheek.

“Huu-goh safe,” he said in my language. Words I hadn’t known he recognized. Maybe he’d learned them from Ushuu when we’d gone to lunch with him? I wasn’t sure. “Roark no hurt Huu-goh,” Roark reassured, his first, real, solid sentence. “Roark sorry.”

I shook my head, because he didn’t need to be.

Later, I’d get excited about how many words he’d apparently been picking up. But for now…for now…I focused on him.

“No,Hugois sorry,” I said right back, squeezing his head close, my fingers bumping his teeth. They pricked, and I was lucky as hell that none sliced me. “Hugo hurt Roark.”

I doubted he knew the word “scared,” so “hurt” was close enough.

Roark huffed back at me, spots shifting colors too fast to track, before they settled on solid, calming blue. “No,” he said simply. “No,” he repeated stronger, caressing my cheek. “Roark okay.”

I nodded.

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