Page 20 of Alien Charming

“Sometimes I wonder what my mother would think of me now,” she whispered. “If she’d be disappointed.”

He shook his head. “From what little you’ve told me of her, I think she’d be proud of your strength.”

Her throat tightened. “I miss her so much, even after all these years. She used to tell me stories about magical creatures in these woods. She’d braid flowers into my hair and teach me the names of every plant we found.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away quickly.

“When she died, it was like all the color drained from my world. Aunt Margaret packed away her things the very next day. Said it wouldn’t do to ‘dwell.’ But I still have her journal of plant drawings hidden under a loose floorboard in my room.”

He put a big hand gently on her shoulder, and the warmth of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Grief isn’t something to be packed away,” he said softly. “My people believe our loved ones live on in the stories we tell about them.”

She leaned into his touch, drawing comfort from his steadiness.

“What was her name?” he asked.

“Catherine.” The name felt strange on her tongue after so many years of disuse.

He inclined his head. “May Catherine’s spirit fly free and watch over you.”

The words brought an unexpected lump to her throat. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to speak of her mother aloud, let alone share memories with another. Another tear trickled down her cheek before she could catch it. The mention of her mother’s name had unlocked something inside her, a well of grief she normally kept tightly sealed.

He gave a low growl, the sound vibrating through the night air, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The sudden embrace startled her—not from fear, but from the unfamiliarity of being held. How long had it been since someone had comforted her?

His body was warm, almost feverishly so, and solid as the ancient trees surrounding them. She stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of being enveloped by his big body. His scent filled her senses—wild and earthy and unexpectedly comforting.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, embarrassed by her tears.

His arms tightened slightly, one big hand coming to rest at the back of her head. “Don’t apologize for honoring her memory,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through her, and she let herself relax into his embrace.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear anchored her, calming the storm of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm her. His hand moved in gentle circles on her back, the gesture so tender from someone so physically imposing that fresh tears welled in her eyes.

In his arms, the weight she carried every day—her aunt’s criticism, the village’s judgment, her own doubts—seemed lighter somehow. She breathed deeply, letting herself accept the comfort he offered.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words inadequate for the gift he’d given her—the simple act of being seen, of being held when she needed it most.

She looked up at him, a tentative smile on her face, and found him watching her. His eyes were warm and compassionate, the golden depths reflecting the scattered moonlight filtering through the trees. The tenderness in his gaze made her breath catch.

But as they looked at each other, something shifted. The warmth in his eyes didn’t fade—it intensified, transforming into something else entirely. Something hungry. His pupils dilated slightly, the golden irises seeming to glow more brightly in the darkness.

Her hands, still resting against his chest, felt the sudden acceleration of his heart beneath her palms, and she swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they stood, of how her body fit against his. A warm, unfamiliar sensation unfurled low in her belly, spreading outwards until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive.

His big hands still held her gently, but she sensed the restraint in them now, the careful control he maintained. One of his thumbs brushed against the small of her back, a touch so light it might have been accidental, yet it sent a shiver racing up her spine.

The night sounds of the forest faded to a distant hum as her focus narrowed to just this moment, just this male holding her as if she were something precious. Her lips parted slightly as she drew in a shaky breath, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there with an intensity that made her feel both vulnerable and powerful at once.

When he’d kissed her before it had been so unexpected that she hadn’t had time to do anything except respond. But now, in the intimate darkness of the forest, she found herself wanting his kiss, longing to experience that intimacy again. She tipped her chin up, an invitation and a plea all at once. His eyes flicked back to hers, searching, seeking permission, and she gave a tiny nod.

He hesitated a second longer, then lowered his head, his breath warm against her lips as he paused, a hair’s breadth away. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she clutched his tunic, holdingonto him like an anchor in the maelstrom of sensation swirling around her.

When his lips finally touched hers, it was a whisper of a kiss, gentle and undemanding. She leaned into him, wanting more, needing to deepen the connection sparking between them. He growled softly, his hands tightening on her waist as he slanted his mouth over hers, the kiss transforming into something more urgent.

She parted her lips to draw breath and his tongue slipped into her mouth, startling her. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, her knees threatening to buckle at the unexpected intimacy. But he held her firmly, one big hand splayed against her lower back, supporting her as he explored her mouth with a slow, deliberate thoroughness that stole her breath.

Her inexperience didn’t matter—she could follow his lead, trusting him as she surrendered to his kiss. When he broke away at last, they were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against hers as if he couldn’t bear to separate from her completely. Her lips felt swollen, her skin flushed and sensitive. She didn’t know what this meant, what they were to each other, but at that moment she didn’t care.

CHAPTER 10

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