Page 15 of Cursed Alien

“What is this place?” she asked, gesturing around the ballroom. “It’s not like any Vultor dwelling I’ve heard about. They usually prefer smaller spaces hidden amongst the trees.”

“Mine,” he growled, the word coming out harsh and guttural.

“Yes, I gathered that part.” She rolled her eyes. “But why so… elaborate? It’s like a human palace from ancient Earth.”

Another memory flickered—the architect again, showing him designs based on historical human structures. He had been fascinated by them, and had insisted on incorporating elements that the other Vultor considered wasteful.

“Show… power,” he managed, the words feeling strange in his mouth.

She nodded slowly. “You wanted to impress people.”

He growled, not liking how accurately she’d assessed him.

Another memory surfaced—standing alone in this very room after all the guests had departed, staring out at the night sky, feeling… what? Not satisfaction. Not happiness. Something else. Something hollow.

“You surround yourself with beauty but remain empty inside,”that same voice had said from the doorway.“All this grandeur cannot fill the void where your heart should be.”

“Leave me,”he had commanded, not turning to face his friend.“I tire of your moralizing.”

“The elders say the curse finds those who?—”

“Enough! I will hear no more of curses and prophecies. Go, before I forget our friendship entirely.”

Footsteps retreating. Then silence. Always, in the end, silence.

The memory faded, leaving him disoriented. The beast whined, confused by the emotions the male experienced. Regret. Shame. Loneliness.

“Are you all right?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

He backed away instinctively.

“Yes,” he lied. Then, “No.”

She stopped, respecting his retreat.

“Let’s focus on what we can fix,” she suggested gently. “The power core first. I’ll need to understand how it works before I start making repairs.”

The practicality of her approach steadied him. This, at least, was simple. A problem to be solved, not a past to be unraveled.

The memory returned, stronger this time.

“The curse of the unmated…”His advisor’s voice echoed in his mind, warning him of something he’d refused to hear.

What curse? The thought slipped away, leaving only frustration in its wake. He growled again, louder this time.

She sighed and put her hands on her hips again.

“Listen, if we’re going to make this work, you need to use your words. Growling isn’t communication.” She took a step toward him, fearless now. “What do you want from me, exactly? You said fix the tech, but which systems? What’s the priority?”

He stared at her, caught between beast and rationality. What did he want? The beast knew—it wanted her here, in his territory, her scent mingling with his. But the emerging Vultor wanted…

“Light,” he rumbled. “Heat.”

She nodded. “Basics first. That makes sense. The power distribution system needs work before we can get to anything fancy.” She glanced around the ballroom again. “Though I’d love to see this place lit up properly.”

An image flashed in his mind—the ballroom ablaze with light, music playing, the floor filled with dancers. Himself standing apart, watching, always apart.

She was still talking, making plans, listing the tools and equipment she’d need. Her confidence soothed something in him. She wasn’t cowering or fleeing. She was… helping.

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