Page 65 of Tempted By the Alien Warrior

Once my hair is thoroughly soaked, he dips the lamia leaf into the water and begins rubbing it between his palms. A rich, woodsy cinnamon scent rises into the air as the leaf softens, producing a slick, translucent lather that glistens across the broad expanse of his hands.

Then his fingers are in my hair, massaging the cleanser into my scalp in slow, deliberate circles. The rhythmic motion is so soothing, a small whimper slips from my throat before I can catch it.

“God, that feels amazing.”

“Good.” His voice is little more than a rumble against my back as he continues, working through the strands with focused tenderness.

The scent of the lamia leaf is stronger now, wrapping around us like incense. When he’s finished, he rinses my hair with slow sweeps of his hands, using cupped water to wash the lather away.

Then he dips the leaf in water again. He rubs his big palms together until they shine with the thick lather, and he starts to wash me. His hands glide over my shoulders, down my arms, hisrough palms smoothing over my skin. He’s quiet as he works, like this moment is too sacred for words.

His hands skim over my chest, lingering just long enough to make me tremble. But this isn’t about lust. There’s a gentle reverence in his touch that somehow leaves me feeling even more exposed than when his cock was buried inside me.

Still, heat flickers under my skin where his fingers pass. By the time his hands reach my hips, I’m swaying slightly, caught between a warm haze of comfort and the low, steady burn in my chest.

Vrok leans down and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder.

I lean back into him, letting myself savor the moment, even if I don’t know what comes next. Right now, with Vrok’s hands on me and his hot breath against me, none of that matters.

19

Vrok

Emily releases a sigh.Her body is loose and relaxed in my arms as I stroke my hands over her wet skin.

I should feel satisfied. I should feel complete. Instead, there’s an ache lodged deep in my chest, and I don’t know what to do about it.

She’s human, and she hasn’t promised me forever. But Goddesses help me, I want it anyway. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not for her. But I do, and no matter how hard I fight it, the need keeps building inside me. This pull to stay close to her. To belong to her.

I tighten my hold, just a little, and press my forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Her scent fills my lungs, settling deep inside me like a brand I’ll never get rid of.

This should have been enough. Taking her in my arms and claiming her again should have been enough to last me a lifetime as an outcast.

I tell myself I’ll let her go when the time comes. That I’ll be strong enough to walk away. But then she shifts, soft andtrusting, and turns her face toward me. Her eyes meet mine. They’re heavy-lidded and unguarded, and I feel the ground slip beneath me. I won’t be able to walk away. I already know that. One night with her will never be enough.

She blinks up at me, the bioluminescent algae casts a flickering glow across her delicate features. “You’re staring,” she murmurs. Her voice is thick with exhaustion and just a hint of teasing.

“I like looking at you.” The words slip free before I even realize I’ve spoken. But they’re true. I could spend a whole lifetime gazing at her and never grow tired of the view.

A flicker of emotion crosses her face—uncertainty, maybe even disbelief—but fades away quickly, and a wide smile stretches across her lips. That smile. I would fight battles for that smile. Climb mountains, swim across oceans, bleed if I had to. Just to be the reason it exists.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to move. “Come. You need to rest.”

Emily hums in agreement, and as I step out of the water, I keep her tucked against my chest. A small shiver runs through her, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses closer, resting her cheek against my skin.

Her trust in me, given so easily, shouldn’t feel like a victory, but it does. The tension I’ve carried for so long loosens beneath the quiet weight of her body curled in my arms, and in its place, a strange and unfamiliar feeling begins to rise.

It’s a light, buoyant feeling. Not the kind that comes after surviving a fight. This is different. It’s softer.

Is this happiness?

I don’t know. I barely remember what happiness felt like. Maybe when I was a young kitling, racing through the trees with the other young males, before my father changed and began to teach me not to run unless I was chasing an opponent.

But now, with Emily curled so trustingly in my arms, that forgotten feeling stirs again. It’s small and cautious, like a seedling poking out of the ground at the beginning of the hot season, uncertain if it will survive.

And it terrifies me. Because I know how fragile it is, and how easily it can vanish. Because I know I don’t deserve it. And yet, I want it.

I let myself savor it. Just for this moment. While she’s warm in my arms and the world is silent and still.

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